


Finding A Safe Haven

by AcidGreenFlames



Series: It's a Mage Kind of World [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dusttale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell Gold (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Alternate Universe -Mages, Domestic Fluff, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, New Relationship, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, soul consumption, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 49
Words: 478,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: Nightmare isn’t used to asking for help, it’s not like he’s ever received it when he had asked; but his crew is hurting and dying, and when backed into a corner he’ll do whatever it takes.Sans and his mages haven’t really signed up for this crap, until they do.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Nightmare Sans/G!Sans/Original Charachter, Papyrus/Original Undertale Character(s), Sans (Undertale)/Original Character(s), Swapfell (Gold) Sans/Original Character
Series: It's a Mage Kind of World [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1467457
Comments: 808
Kudos: 264





	1. No Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Lovelies! 
> 
> Welcome to the start of the second arc! I hope you all enjoy the direction I'm taking this series, I've been planning this part since The Ninety Forth Time and I am SO excited to have actually gotten here. 
> 
> As always, I will post warnings specific to each chapter in the notes in the beginning but take a moment to read the tags. 
> 
> Anyone looking for an AO3 invite, I've got a couple if anyone is in need. 
> 
> Cheers friends! 
> 
> WARNINGS: Implied dubcon, very brief and vague. Broken bones, infection, illness, sickness blood/marrow.

Stumbling down the cold stone hall that had shadows dancing over the stone work in the dying light, pain burned through Edge’s left side, heavy and hot; it caused his vision to swim and nausea to build at the back of his throat. He could still taste bile between his razor-sharp teeth from the last time he had vomited, spoiled magic caught in his fangs from the damage he had taken when _something_ struck him hard enough to break a bone in his skull, sending him barrelling into a near crippling migraine and what was likely a concussion. 

Black spots danced across his already fuzzy vision, distorting his sight further and any small gasp of pain was swallowed back through sheer force of will alone. His everything hurt, everything burned until sickness swallowed him and there was nothing but pain.

Still, he held it together and pushed it down into a small box where he harbored all his hurt and pretended it didn’t exist, because he had to. Because there was no one else who could, too many of his own had been hurt, too many of his own lay dying for him to fall apart now. It didn’t matter how hurt he was, how damaged his body was, the others needed him. His brother needed him stable, aware, able to fight when the time came. 

It didn’t matter that the left side of his rib cage had been crushed, that the magic that holds him together is thin and watery, barely holding up with every painful little breath. Under his armor his magic burns like wildfire, desperate to put him back together but lacking the energy to do it.

It doesn’t matter that his left knee is ruined, shattered and sheer determination is keeping him on his feet despite how his leg trembles, his body begging him to rest. His skull throbs in time with the pounding of his soul, the fresh new crack at his left temple almost touches the fangs along the left side of his maxilla, and he’s sure it isn’t helping the migraine ripping at him like claws in flesh. He can’t seem to get his heavily scared left socket to light its eye light, but he had a hard-enough time with that on the best of days.

Yet, it doesn’t _matter_. _~~He doesn’t matter.~~_

Despite the damage done to his body, the way he felt weak and sick, and in pain, Edge didn’t complain. Even when his name had been The Great and Terrible Papyrus, he wouldn’t have complained. Not in a time like this.

Not when the others were so much _worse._

He can’t bare to look into the sick ward at times, only when its his turn to watch over the injured who have taken refuge in this dark, cold castle where even Edge had been surprised to find family. The sick ward that smelt like rotting magic and fear-sweat, where his own brother lay beaten and sick ~~and probably dying~~ , very injured, and knows he can’t complain. That, despite his own burning agony, he’s one of the lucky ones, one of the _least_ injured. 

Edge’s breaths come in hard, exhausted little pants as he came into the wide, scarcely decorated room of cobblestone, leaning heavily onto one of the pillars when he needed to rest; his broken ribs _throbbing_ , his vison swimming as he glares hotly at the only door he can see. Sodium yellow light, ugly and dim, halo the closed door, and Edge cringes, hating everything and everyone in that very moment. Curses every choice that brought him here briefly, curses agreeing to Nightmare’s fucking offer, curses everything when the pain makes his breathing hitch.

_~~He and Red are going to fucking die here.~~_

Even from where he barely stands, he can smell the pain and marrow from the sick ward, can taste the fear that everyone is trying to bury and failing at the back of his tongue, and even that seems to hurt somehow. Edge shivers when he feels a cold wash from behind, an oppressive and heavy aura, and his dim, red eye light glance down to Nightmare as he slows to stop next to him; he’s frowning at the door as well, azure eye light hazy with pain, and if Edge was honest with himself, he’s surprised the self-proclaimed King is still on his feet.

The thing that attacked them, _whatever_ it had been, had been cruel, and aimed to maim them in the worse way, digging into their psyche to find their greatest hurts and fears. It attacked Nightmare with light magic, weaponizing it in a way Edge had never dared dream possible, making him bleed, reminding him that despite being powerful, Nightmare was still of magic, that parts of him where vulnerable. A cruel lesson but an effective one.

It hurt him, tore at his body and battered his mind and ego, attempting to break what was left of the deity of negativity in a way that even his own brother didn’t attempt, used light magic cruelly. It left sharp, dangerous shards that impaled his body, sunk deep into the dark magic, draining him of his power.

His tentacles dropped to the floor, coiled weakly around his slumping form, his eye barley lit with his own exhaustion as he glared hotly into the room. Pain rolls from his frame in hot, thick waves, the magic of his body ripple with agony, watery with sickness.

He sways, catching himself with a tentacle, a motion that Edge doesn’t draw attention to. They all know they’re fucked, no need to needlessly bruise egos before they get there.

“We need help.” Edge’s voice sounds like he gargled with glass on a good day, now its thin and reedy with pain.

Nightmare snorts, and Edge can see that he’s barely on his own feet. He’s still _Sans_ enough that Edge can see it. Fuck, he’s barely on his own.

“No one is going to help us.” Nightmare’s voice is soft and raspy, like leaves blowing over the pavement, “No one in their right fucking mind will help us.”

Edge sighs inwardly, and he knows it’s the truth. No one would help them. They’re the _bad guys_ after all. The Doom and Gloom crew, the dark end of the balance, the predators and scavenges of the multiverse ecosystem. Murderers, and monsters and demons. Just as important to maintain the balance, the health of the multiverse, but that didn’t mean that people had to like them.

It didn’t mean that certain members of their crew didn’t _enjoy_ what they did. Fuck, he’d had to learn how to like it just to survive with what shreds of his sanity he had left. 

Inside the sick ward the rest of their crew is laying in varying degrees of injury and illness, creeping ever closer to death and all the medicine they have is going to keeping them alive. The pain pharmaceuticals ran out two days ago, leaving them with nothing but Ripper’s narcotics to take the edge off their pain.

Edge had stashed his share to be doled out to his brother, choosing to swallow his own agony if it meant that Red could sleep just a little longer in peace. 

It hadn’t lasted near long enough, and they were running out.

Edge sighs out loud, and his dim eye light glowing like a dying star, “Sin needs a break.” He rumbles and pushes past his own agony, braces himself to step into the sick ward. He pushes off the pillar, his shattered knee trembles under his weight, but he endures and pushes on to the small room. The smell of sickness and sweat is bitter, and the smell of antiseptic is sharp in a horrible, gut turning mixture that makes Edge feel worse just by the smell of it alone. Fear and pain are thicker here, reminding Edge of Underfell’s dungeon, Muffet’s parlor or the King’s bed, none of those options bring back pleasant memories, and he’s again relieved that Red is unconscious. He doesn’t need those particularly dark memories to resurface when he’s already hurt and sick.

He swallows it back, and limps to his brother in the sick ward.

Sans, _Red,_ is laying curled brokenly in a ball on his sick bed, trembling as a fever rips through him. He hasn’t been conscious in a day, and whether that is due to the fever or the drugs, Edge isn’t sure, doesn’t want to be sure. He thinks, distantly, bitterly, that his brother won’t wake again.

_~~And if his brother dusts, Edge’ll be right behind him. He can’t. He just can’t. Not even for the kid…Not his brother.~~ _

Mercy, the cheerful, spunky little Frisk from his world, mops the cold sweat from Red’s skull and her face pulls into one of determined fear, “Sit down.” She snaps at him, and her usual waspish tone brings the smallest smile to his bruised face.

Edge does as he’s told, Red’s bed dipping under his weight as he sits, and brushes at his brother’s face with claw tipped fingers, “How is he?”

Mercy frowns up at him, and bless her determined little soul, she believes they’re going to live, “He’s getting sicker. But he’s going to be okay.”

Edge doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise, he doesn’t want her to see the truth just yet and dash her hopes. He doesn’t want to see her little face crumple into grief when she realizes she’s losing her family.

Instead, Edge gives her a pained smile and pats her little head with his massive hand and razor claws. He glances around the room and his smile turns bitter.

Despite how safe Nightmare’s made his pillaged universe, how well protected, something still got them. Something from the void, something quick and strong, stronger than Nightmare himself. Something that could wield magic like them, something that could hurt them. 

In the far corner, Sugar, a Papyrus from a horrible universe, a starving universe, is tending to the orphaned Sanses and his brother. Sugar is huge, bigger than Edge himself, but has a timidness that is adored by the children of all ages in their crew, _protected_ by the warriors and killers. Had he had any aggression in a single bone in his body, he would have given Edge a run for his money in sheer power. As it was, Sugar wasn’t a fighter. The little brother to all, the one Nightmare _never_ took on raids.

He’s nursing a battered skull, both his sockets bruised dark enough to give them a ringed look; beyond that, he’s unharmed, but afraid.

Sugar sits near Gore’s bed, comically massive and scrunched up next to his brother, his teeth shattered and broken in his mouth, his eyes small and afraid. His massive hands wring nervously between his bend knees, while he watched his older brother struggle to breath.

The hole in Gore’s head seemed larger when he was ill, his ribs pulverised, and he struggled to breath, making wet, pained gasps. Both arms shattered from the tips of his phalange to his scapula, unusable and mangled. His sockets clenched shut, teeth gritted as he trembles, his sweat soaked head nestled into Ripper’s lap. The thing had torn him apart like a fucking poltergeist, lifting him into the air and stuck with invisible claws and strikes to break him.

Ripper didn’t look any better leaning against he wall that his bed had been pushed up against, the stone harsh at his spine; he’s limp like a puppet whose strings have been cut, and the dark tar like tears that streamed down his face made his already pale bones stark. The weirdly annoying but bubbly little twerp was frighteningly quiet, and his warped soul warbled in pain, his spine splintered at his middle as if someone had grabbed a hold of him and crushed until the bone gave.

Edge isn’t sure how he can sit up straight, probably fought through the agony just so Gore had something to cuddle while he died, and he’s sure Ripper will be crippled if he does survive. Edge frowns, feels his soul sing in pain at the sight; Ripper might be off plumb, but he _is_ a good right-hand man, sharp but cares about their people. Nightmare had picked well when he plucked him out of his dying universe.

A shame in of itself, that he was probably going to die with the rest of them. 

Crow, the last of Nightmare’s original guard, was sitting at the edge of the bed beside them both, unusually unharmed after the attack, but Edge knew better then to think he was alright. Crow’s head is down, his left eye pulsing softly in purple and red as he tried to control his LV before it controlled him; he rocked back and forth as he muttered to himself, shaking his head no, answering something that wasn’t there or at least something they couldn’t see.

Crow may not have been hurt, but right now what ever was left upstairs was burning down. Edge sighed again; they had been working so hard to bring him back around, to stabilize him, even a little. 

It didn’t matter, he supposed. He was certain they were all going to die of illness anyways, and once Ripper and Gore were gone, Crow wouldn’t be long behind them. What a shameful fucking way to go.

A rattling cough brought his attention to Coffee; the tall, thin Papyrus from some shitty Swapfell universe. He was always unusually quiet for a Papyrus, near non-verbal, usually allowing his older brother to deal with the threats of their world unless the Queen needed her Judge.

Now, he’s as sick as the others and brought up thick gobs of yellow magic, his long sleeve t-shirt hiding the damage to his arms, hiding how broken and bent they were and the magic writing of his shirt said _sick guy_. 

Wine was no better, with one of his legs bent the wrong way and no one trusted their hands to be steady enough to set it. His pulverized chest heaved with pained little pants through his too tight uniform, and yet that stubborn bastard manages to stay up right so that Hope, his soft little Chara, could sleep tucked against him. Even then, Hope didn’t so much as sleep, as she did pass out. Terrified and afraid of what had happened and if it was going to happen again.

Sin sits by their bed with a sucker in his mouth, dim gold eye lights watch the trio with a deep frown, rolling the candy over his summoned tongue and looks like he’s not taking an ounce of pleasure from it. He looks tired, just as exhausted as the rest of them despite his only injury his shattered right arm. A heavy leather jacket hides his injury, but he cradles the arm against his ribs; out of all of them, he’s one of the few who can stay up to sit with the ill and comfort Sugar.

Sin is likely the one to sit by his death bed and offer what comfort he could while Edge succumbs to sickness and infection; after all, what are friends for if you can’t sit with them while they die.

Sin is tall for a Sans, a by-product of being a legitimate son of Gaster; a crack in his skull runs down into his right eye from the top of his skull, while the crack under his left eye almost touches his teeth. His jacket is clotted with blood and marrow that mostly isn’t his, and Edge takes comfort in the fact that he isn’t as injured.

At least someone can take care of the kids when the rest of them die.

“I’d kill for a smoke.” Sin’s voice is wishful and soft, and he gives Mercy a cheeky grin when she shoots him a dirty look. It’s because of her that he’s not half a pack deep, her anger at him for smoking around sick skeletons is impressive enough that it’s curbed the habit from him for now. 

The last of their fucked up little crew is leaning against the wall, dark orange eye-lights follow Nightmare as he comes into the sick room; Glass’s face is carefully blank and cold, the horrible light glinting off his gold eye-teeth like fangs in the mouth of a beast, and out of them all, he’s the one who would likely kill for the rest of them. 

Along with the razor sharp gold fangs, his mouth is filled with sharpened, shark like teeth that he’s used to bite through more then one monster’s throat, with a wet, gurgling laugh; his right eye is heavily scared, mimicking Edge’s own trio of scars over his left, and there’s a flash of a gold, like a small rounded button at Glass’s right jaw hinge.

He doesn’t talk about it much, but from what Edge has managed to put together, the Queen of his world had gotten sick of his mouth and took it away for a number of months by kicking in his jaw, leaving it half hinged and painful. It had been by her _mercy_ that she’d allowed a healer to repair his jaw, the right hinge so horribly damaged that metal had to be used to complete the repairs.

You wouldn’t know to look at it now, but Edge wasn’t stupid enough to know that it still bothered him, the hinge sensitive and ached when the weather was bad. 

Like Coffee, Glass is a Papyrus from some kind of hellscape world that was a dark little Swapfell, but an impressively worse one then Coffee came from. Coffee, at least, still has his brother and escaped with some semi balance of sanity left.

Glass had not been so lucky.

Taller then Edge himself, nearing Sugar’s impressive six feet, eleven inches, and Edge’s crimson high heeled boots the only thing giving him the advantage of height. It was often a point of contention between them, something Glass took to holding over Edge’s head _~~heh~~_ on the best of days and it seemed so trivial in the face of their new reality. The heavily scared skeleton was standing horribly still, his dark eye lights glancing over the broken remains of all they had.

Edge sighs, sad and broke; they’re a big group he knows, killers, all of them. Monsters, soldiers, whatever you wanted to call them, and it hadn’t been near enough to save them. Somewhere there’s a joke here, Edge is sure of it, and if Red wasn’t dying, he’d find it. 

Red made a gurgling, wet noise that drew Edge’s dark eyes to his brother, he felt his soul twist. After all they’d been through, all they had _suffered_ this was how it was going to end for them. Edge wants to laugh bitterly at the ridiculous of it all; all the death and killing, and sickness is going to get them in the end.

“We need help.” Sugar’s voice is small and afraid, mimicking Edge’s words if only a smaller, softer version.

Nightmare sighs, pressing a tentacle to Wine’s skull. It’s hot, and the fever is only beginning to build, “No one will help us.” He says again, and it’s true. Any healthy universe that would have the healing items that could even begin to attempt to help them, wouldn’t help them.

No one was going to help them. No one would want to, and no one was coming for them.

“Then we need ta _make_ sum one help us.” Glass’s Hotland accent is heavy with his anger.

Edge snorts, his voice is hauntingly bitter, “And how are we supposed to force someone to help us.” 

Glass sneers, pushing himself off the wall, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark orange bomber hiding his clawed hand. His mouth pulls into a bitter, twisted smile that is all sharp teeth and cruelty; the crack under his right eye pulls painfully as it cuts through his upper cheek bone, “We force ‘em.”

“ _How!”_ Edge sneers, his eyes flashing with the last of his magic that he can’t afford to spare on anger, and it makes Sugar cringe with fear and whimper in distress. They try not to fight in front of him, but fuses are too short and tempers too hot, “None of us can stand never mind fight.” He presses himself to his feet, his knee shuttering under his weight as he swings his arm around the room with anger, “Please, tell me, how the fuck are we going to force anyone to heal us. Please, tell me. I’m all ears.”

Glass’s eye lights darken in anger and his teeth part to argue back, or even to strike out with a brutal punch when the smallest voice breaks through the tension, “You don’t have ears.”

It draws a put-upon sigh from Edge, and it cools Glass’s anger a little. His bitter smile becomes something a little softer when he turns to look at Hope’s little face, her eyes barely open from where she’s tucked into Wine’s side; Wine hasn’t woken in the last few hours, and Edge doubt’s he’ll wake again.

Still, she manages to smile at them, and when Glass turns back to Edge, most of his anger is gone, “We take ah healer. There has ta be one in ah weak universe. Unguarded. There has ta be.” There’s an almost desperate tone, a plea that helps nudge Edge away from an LV induced fury. It’s hard to remember that if they all die, Glass is just as lost. They are all he has.

“I found a universe.” Nightmare sighs wearily, a hand pressing to his side as if he were in pain and Edge wonders if he realizes he’s doing it, “A strong universe, strong walls, some where near the mid point of the multiverse. It’s healthy.” The kind of place they wouldn’t bother striking at, no they scavenge at weak and dying worlds before they help it implode. No point in risking one of their own taking on a healthy world that could hurt them.

“It’s got mages,” and they all cringe, “That means healers.”

Glass turned to Nightmare, sockets widening, “Boss, ya want ta go ta war with mages?”

He shakes his head no, swaying again, catching himself before he falls, “No. Just need to borrow a healer, nothing more. We aren’t in the position to go to war with mages.” That may have been the understatement of the century, but as it was Edge lets it go. 

Nightmare’s breath stutters as he winces in pain, the light magic buried in his body burning at him, but he shoves down the swell of agony and nausea, blinking away the spots in his vision. Glass, Sin and Edge say nothing, but it makes Edge frown deeply, taking a half step towards him as if to catch him if he stumbles. 

He’s waved off, and Edge steps back, frowning deeply, lost in his own self hatred at his own failures, a dim crimson eye light glances to his dying brother and his soul aches. Sin and Glass won’t be enough if they meet any resistance. Sin doesn’t have the sheer power to offer a real fight if they meet with hostile mages, he’s a better assassin and Glass has the strength but lacks the strategy to use it effectively.

Nightmare is compromised, the light shards are draining him faster then even just positive energy and if they don’t pull them all out, he’s going to die. Already the magic that holds him together is watery and thin. Rippling like water as he struggles to hold himself together. 

They need a healer, and they need someone who can strategize to take one.

Edge heaves a sigh and shakes his head to clear it. He knows Ripper still has some stronger narcotics hidden in his room, knows he shares those ones with Crow to help calm them down when their LV is riding them so they don’t accidently kill the kids. He knows that it’ll take the edge off his own pain. Sure, his body has been destroyed, but with enough drugs in his system he won’t feel it, and surely this isn’t nearly the worse thing he’s done.

Red needs a healer, they all need a healer and they’re going to need his help to get one.

Swallowing his pain, Edge forces his feet to move, and he nearly gags when he puts weight onto his shattered leg. Glass makes a move towards him as though to catch him if he falls, face pulled into confusion. Even Nightmare is looking at him, his head titling as though to ask what the hell he’s doing.

“I’m getting what’s left of Ripper’s drugs.” Glass’s head tips the other way, his sharp features pulling deeper into confusion. It prompts Edge to smirk bitterly, “I’d rather not feel anything that I’m about to do.”


	2. Only One Chance to Make A Good First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Lilith meet with Edge and some of his friends for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovlies, 
> 
> Welcome back to the next chapter, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. A couple of warnings this round; 
> 
> WARNING: broken bones, graphic description of violence and fighting. Injuries and blood.

Stepping out into knee deep snow, Sans packs his snowball a little tighter so that it was a near perfect sphere that would fly straight and true. His smirk is bright as he adds the last ball to the pile of nearly one hundred that he’s already made; his smile is cheerful as he dusted his hands and admires his hard work.

Behind him, his family is having a snowball fight, throwing balls of tightly packed snow at each other as hard as they can, unaware that he’s been ‘sitting out’ to create an army. They’re laughing at each other brightly, shoving snow down each others’ coats, tackling each other into the cold snow to shove each others faces into the unnatural frost that Sloan has created in the warm mid spring day after Lola had made a passing comment that a snow ball fight would have been a fun afternoon activity.

They all thought it funny when Lilith shoved snow down _his_ coat. Oh, his family had laughed. They thought it was soooo funny when he had to pull snow from between his ribs. Hardy-Har-Har.

Well, one good trick deserved another.

Sans grinned at his army of well packed snowballs, his smile slowly sharpening into something a little more mischievous, his small fangs glistening in the sun as his mouth twists in a way that he knows Lilith’s adores. It’s a smirk that he _knows_ turns her crank, and despite what he’s about to do to her, he’ll turn that grin onto her just to watch her soften and melt.

First, he needs his revenge.

His eye lights fade, and his left eye erupts into blue magic that burns like hell fire. His smirk grows sharper as he snaps his fingers and gravity magic turns the snowballs a soft blue. It’s with a soft flick of his index finger upward that has his small battalion of snowballs rocketing skyward.

They disappear into the light of the sun, the bright rays of a mid spring afternoon blinding and provide the perfect camouflage for a total assault; it helps that the faux winter wonderland that Sloan had whipped up for them all to play in sparkles brightly, helping hide his on coming attack. Sans turns on the balls of his feet, his sneakers sliding over the snow easily, his feet warm with the spells that Sloan has layered in to the material, his control hand still shimmering blue with magic and he grins at the mockery of a battle before him.

With a gentle flick of his finger, his carefully packed snowballs rain down hell onto his family; it starts slowly at first. A splat of snow at Felix’s chest, a headshot to the back of Undyne’s head, a perfect shot that left a round mound of snow to Ryder’s shoulder; it’s Lilith who catches his eyes first, her mouth twisted into a grimace and she knows he’s up to something.

Sans directs that cheeky, mischievous smirk that has his small fangs shining in the light at her, and it makes Lilith freeze, first with a bone deep _want,_ then with dawning realization. She looks skyward far too late, and Sans snerks when the snowball hits his beloved, beautiful mate square in the face. It leaves her sputtering with a mouthful of snow, flailing helplessly as she rubs it from her face with soaking wet gloves as she’s hit again in the back of the head, leaving a perfect circle of snow in her hair. 

Well, she had been the one to stuff snow down the back of his coat, so all’s fair in love and war.

The others shriek as snowballs rain down on them, soaking their hats and slipping wetly down their backs and into cloths, and Sans takes a moment to enjoy the chaos he’s created. He laughs when he hears his brother’s shriek of laughter, sees Ryder tackle him into the snow to ‘shield’ him from the onslaught of snowballs, like it’s totally not just an excuse for Ryder to stretch over his brother. No, not at all.

He laughs harder to see Felix dive for Lola, who as created a bright green shield over her head, trying to keep his much taller frame under the shield she’s created, and he _squeals_ when a snowball nails him in his right butt cheek as he tries to curl up under the shield.

Undyne has summoned a shield of spears, laying next to each other to provide cover as she laughed darkly beneath them, and Sloan has simply traced away and out of the range of fire with Frisk. So unfair.

With a grin, Sans sees his chance for escape for what it is. Joy and amusement burst through his soul, singing out happily as turns tail and runs, short cuts through the void long before the snowballs have stopped falling. A shame that he can’t stay and laugh at the rest of the Den just a little longer, but Lilith has got the snow out of her eyes, and turned that laser focus on him with a sharp grin, and it’s time to get the hell outta dodge unless _he_ wants another mouthful of snow.

Lilith is as quick as he is, piggy backing his stride through the void, although her magical trace works differently then his shortcuts, she has learned to follow his magical trail when he splits the space time continuum with her own determined magic for very short distances.

Sans steps out of the shortcut, already in a sprint just past the lake where the air is warm and the snow has melted completely, and it’s easier to run; he laughs when he hears the continued onslaught of snowballs pelting the others in Sloan’s little faux snow globe. He could have shortcutted anywhere, leapt out of the void anywhere in Ebott, but Lilith can only trace as far as she can see, and the whole _point_ is to be caught.

Sans is sprinting towards the compound, a good prank always worth the extra effort, when Lilith comes leaping out of her trace in a cloud of star dust and magic and her arms go around him tightly. She pulls him to her body to protect his as they fell sideways into the cool wet grass, mud splattering up their bodies and faces with a sharp laugh.

Lilith takes the blunt of the fall, cushioning Sans’s far more fragile magical body with her stronger physical one and rolls them so she lands on top of him; his back pinned into the wet, muddy grass and his hands caught up by his head by her strong grip, leaving him helpless. He gave his mate a cheeky grin, sharp and unafraid.

Lilith smirks down at him, snow frozen in her hair as heavy clumps around her cold reddened face, and she looks endlessly amused by his antics with a single brow raised high. He looks good like this, Lilith thinks, pinned down beneath her, a gentle blue blush rising across his nasal structure and cheeks, his grin bright and challenging. It sparks something in her chest, excitement, and arousal as heat pools in her lower belly and love in her soul. She sounds amused when she finally speaks, “That was a dirty trick.”

He gives her an over exaggerated snort, “Wonder who taught me that.” Sans’s tone is playful and inviting, tilting his chin back to offer her his throat, “Be gentle.”

Lilith snorts over him, the ice still clings stubbornly to her hair as she leans over to murmur against his throat as she noses softly at his cervical vertebrae, “You like it when I’m a little less then gentle.” Sans shivered at the truth of that, Lilith was always careful with him, even when he was begging her to be rougher. Never one to hurt him, that wasn’t something that turned either Sans or Lilith on, but just a little rough was just fine.

Sans hummed as Lilith pressed her mouth against one of his vertebrae in a gentle kiss before her lips parted to draw his vertebrae into her mouth to give it a gentle suck that sent a shiver down his spine. It turns into a full body shiver when her teeth press into the bone in a sharp nip, and Sans can’t help the moan that vibrates through his ribs as his sockets slip shut as he presses up into her body.

Her tongue laps at the bite mark that lightly bruises his bones, the warmth from her mouth teasing at the pocket of magic that sits between his vertebra and Sans sighs, relaxing into the soft earth at his back. He’s happy to ignore the cold beneath him so long has he’s got Lilith’s warm body pressing downward on him.

He’s glad that he listened to Lilith’s and Felix’s old war stories for the past year and a half he’s been on the surface; most of it breaks his heart, hates that they have so many but he knows that each story had it’s own unspoken secret. Knows that one of those little secrets is that battle mages are usually turned on by action, movement or a fight.

The snowball fight had only been the first step into his not so sneaky plan to get Lilith to come up stairs with him on one of those rare days off when everyone was home. It meant that anyone of the others could distract Frisk.

There’s a flash of triumph when Lilith mutters against his jaw, “Lets go upstairs.” 

Silly giddiness and victory fill Sans, and he arched into Lilith’s touch when her fingers slipped up his shirt to run a cold, gloved thumb along his floating rib. Huffing a little sigh, Sans grins when he goes boneless beneath her, laughs at his own pun and needs to remember to tell Lilith about that one later, “Good thing I know a shortcu…” Sans trails off suddenly as _something_ , a portal maybe, spirals open.

It’s thick and black like tar, gooey so they can’t see beyond the tare in their universe. It moves slowly in a spiralling circle like something viscous almost like gelatin that’s almost nauseating.

The softness, the giddiness is gone in an instant from both of their faces, hardened into anger and bitterness, ready for a fight. Lilith is on her feet first, still quicker than him, and pulls Sans to his, hauling him away from the spiraling mess and into position so they are back to back, ready to defend each other, while they give the dark portal their sides, making themselves smaller targets.

Grim faced, magic sparks at Lilith’s fingers as her eyes shine crimson, and her armor shimmers around her, almost solid and real, just out of reach of reality while they wait to see if this is a threat. Sans takes a breath to calm himself, settle his soul like he’s been taught and snuffs his eye lights, flexing his control hand that humms with power and magic; he hasn’t spent the last year and a half on the surface training with Lilith and the Den for him to not use what he’s learned when he needed to the most.

He wasn’t the same hurt, broken monster he was a year ago and he’d be damned if he let _anyone_ hurt his family.

The others have slowed in their playing, their fight coming to a full stop when they feel the violent magic that swirls around Lilith. It becomes quiet enough to hear a pin drop as the laughter dies out and they regroup in a small knot. Behind them, Sloan is pulling Frisk further behind her, and Sans can hear the sparking of Lola’s shields and the hum of Felix’s magic as his axes are summoned.

The buzz of Undyne’s spears is a comforting noise, and Sans can feel his brother’s magic swelling next to Ryder’s, all ready and willing to step into a fight if they need to, if this is in fact a threat.

Nothing comes through the portal, only a cool wind that makes the muddy puddles ripple under their boots, and Sans shivers when it cools the mud on his back. He feels his soul twist, feels the throb of anxiety and utter uncertainty. It’s the bitter, foul uncertainty that ripples through them all, and they know something’s wrong, “Maybe it’s that Dream fella.” Sans offers hesitantly, voice soft as if he’s afraid to attract something.

Lilith’s mouth pulls into a firm line but shakes her head no as her face becomes cold, “He just sort of appeared, said he came through an ink portal. That looks like a portal to the Nether.” It did, the swirling mass of black sludge didn’t look like anything Dream had described and didn’t look like the portal his buddy Ink had picked him up with afterwards.

Sans shifts again, the dark, bad feeling in his soul becoming heavier with the _wrongness_ of this all. There had indeed been an odd, soft little Sans, a different _him_ that had ended up in their universe by mistake nearly a year ago, injured, and tired with broken ribs, and calling himself Dream. Yet, Dream hadn’t felt like this, this dark, heavy foreboding like something bad was going to happen and it made the air around them heavy and bitter.

They had taken pity on him, that smaller version of Sans, mostly because he had asked so fucking politely about it, knocked softly, almost hesitantly, at their door; and because he wore _Sans’s_ face. Lilith didn’t have it in her to turn him away, not when it was her mate’s hopeful eyes that gazed up at her, weary and pleading with a hesitant grin, that they ended up patching his wounds and fed him.

All the while Dream had told them stories of the multiverse in a soft, pleased voice, delighted by the positivity this world had, the love he felt among the Den. He told them stories of other words, other _hims_ that were out there, living completely separate lives to his own, unaware of his own existence. Some where like him, others, not so much.

It was shocking to discover that the multiverse theory was real, unnerving that there were mirror universes to this one but his Den had taken it in stride, relating it to the likes of Marvel comic or DC to rationalize it, making it palatable. It helped them wrap their minds around the truth, linked it to something they could understand and made it easier to shake it off as another weird truth they couldn’t change.

Weirder things had certainly happened, to realize that there were other _thems_ out there, worlds were they probably didn’t even exist; worlds were magic died long before monsters surfaced, worlds were the mages were simply human. Words that the monsters never did make it to the surface.

Dream had warned them that, not all versions of Sans were good and merciful. That some had been twisted by cruelty and circumstance, and that if they ended up in their universe, best be ready to fight.

Nightmare was nearly a god, a deity of all negative emotions whose purpose was to create conflict to feast upon the negativity he created; as well as being Dream’s _little_ brother by mere moments. His little foot soldiers were loyal to a fault, their cruelty unmeasurable, and Crow, Ripper and Gore where things to be feared.

Lately, according to Dream and his ever gentle concern, he had recruited others. How, Dream didn’t know, lied to them maybe, twisted their souls perhaps, manipulated them was likely, but they were just as loyal. Just as cruel that only added to Nightmare’s already deadly task force.

Sin, a silent assassin whose kill count was now in the hundreds, Red and Glass, the muscle.

Edge, his tactician was terrifying with what he was able to put together with little time and less resources.

Wine, a sharpshooter of unimaginable skill, almost as good as his brother Coffee.

They were dangerous, cruel and to be avoided if possible. Fought if pressed, killed if your hand was forced but that would risk their anger, their vengeance.

Better to call him for his help when dealing with Nightmare’s gang and let Dream and his friends deal with it; he had said all this with a cheerfully soft voice while Lola healed his bones and Ryder made him food.

The mages, never one’s to take anything laying down, had taken the warning seriously, learned what they could about an adversary that Sans hoped they never had to encounter. They were prepared, and the moment that Dream had let them know that the _only_ way to harm Nightmare was with light magic, Sloan had made it _mandatory_ for them all to learn a little bit of light magic. Find someway to weave it into their own abilities and specialized magic.

The battle mages had found a way to weave it into their blades, Lola into her shields and Ryder may have felt sick to summon a spear like shaft of light, but he did so with the determination of a soul named after Lilith’s and Undyne had taught him to use it well.

A precaution for sure, just in case.

Just in case the unthinkable happened.

Sans took a breath to steady himself, wondering if the unthinkable was about to happen and felt his soul twist. Cold dread filled him, all the way to his toes and he wondered what kind of fight this was going to be. Wished that it didn’t need to be a fight.

Lilith took a breath at his back, and rolling her shoulders to shake them out, loosening them as she shifted her weight forward onto the balls of her feet, waiting, “Sans, fall back to the others.”

He snorts at her cold, monotone voice, forcing his limbs to become loose and almost lazy, just like he’d been taught. A none-threat if he ever did see one, no need to draw attention to himself until he needed to, “Noooope. Not a chance in the Nether Evil mage.”

Lilith snorted, gave him a little nudge at his spine, as something beyond the portal moved, shadows shifting before the portal rippled open, and the angriest, most fucking _emo_ looking skeleton Sans had ever seen marched through the swirling darkness. Briefly, Sans has to swallow back his guff of laughter at his outfit of choice and just how _extra_ it was, how it looked like he shopped solely at hot topic. When he remembered that this skeleton was deadly and dangerous enough that he had a kill count helped Sans swallow his bubbling laughter. He swallowed it back as his amusement died an early death and he turned any amusement into a grim smile.

He was smaller then Sans thought he would have been, bones thick and heavily scared, he walked confidently if not a little stiffly; Sans eye lights glanced down, suddenly frowning at the sight of the skyscraper heeled boots he was wearing, and Sans knew then that all of his height was due to those fucking boots, probably putting him closer to Lilith’s height without them. Still, bold choice.

Lilith tensed briefly at his back and they both took a step back as the skeleton marched towards them, still stiff and lacking any fluidity to his movements; his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, three big cracks in his skull running through his left socket, and his single flickering eye light burned like hell fire. He looked like a monster from a nightmare, something that would gleefully rip you apart just because he could.

His black chest plate was massive and bulky, made of heavy steel, the pauldrons at his shoulders sharp and spiked, his throat protected by a ragged, torn scarf. His spine was uncovered, flaunted out in the open and Sans knew enough to spot a trap when he saw one. No one was that fucking stupid to leave a vulnerable part of themselves exposed unless they were hoping people would aim for it. If you were expecting people to hit you there, it made it easy to protect when you gave them an obvious target.

He stormed forward in those high heeled red boots that came up to his knees, legs covered in black leather pants that were held up by a thick red belt and a skull buckle. Heavy chains clanked at his hip where they were attached to his pants, ready to be used as weapons as needed. Bright red gloves came up to his elbows, and spiked brass knuckles sat comfortably over each of his hands.

Everything about this skeleton screamed _threat,_ and hatred burned in his eyes as he marched directly at them with the kind of laser focus Sans only ever saw from battle mages or cats about to pounce.

“Sooo, this must be Edge.” Sans muttered to Lilith, gathering magic in his soul, feeling it swell with power.

Lilith hummed as her body loosened at his back, dropping out of her offensive stance to take a defensive one, one that was meant to lull enemies into a false sense of security, “Looks like.” And she nudged Sans a little further behind her.

Heaving a sigh, Sans gives the new skeleton, _Edge_ , a bitter grin as he stops a hand width away from them, fury rolling off him in thick, heavy waves. Sans frowns, small hands balling into fists as all that hatred pours from the furious skeleton to stain his beautiful, wonderful mate; Lilith pushes her shoulders back and straightens her spine in an effort to look bigger then she is, raising her chin in challenge, armor still flickering between reality and not.

A feat in of itself as Edge is so much taller than her in those boots, both he and Lilith crane their necks to look up at him. From the portal, two more skeletons slipped through the rippling, oozing tar; the first looks like Sans, had Sans gotten any of Gaster’s height and hands, and a scared mug.

_Sin_ , Sans thinks to himself, the assassin. He’s tall and thin, but not nearly the height of Edge but wearing an unkind smirk twisted with cruelty with blunt, even teeth. His black pants are far too tight, and Sans had no idea _how_ he managed pour himself into them never mind walk in them, with boots with the fur. His white t-shirt is covered in blood and marrow, and Sans feels a shiver run down his spine as he shifts at the sight. Its an uncomfortable reminder that, this version of himself was a killer.

Sin’s jacket is heavy, like it had been made for the cold of Snowdin, with a fur lined hood and bright red patches at the sleeves. Grey smoke pools from his sockets from the cigarette he’s smoking, intimidating for all the world to see, but Sans frowns when he notices Sin keeping his right arm curled almost defensively at his middle. Weird.

The other, just as tall as Edge is now, but thicker and more heavily scared as he practically saunters through the portal as if he had any fucking right. His mouth full of fangs are just as sharp as Edge’s, his canines glinting gold as his eye lights burn a dark orange. A cruel, dark smirk curls at his mouth, an odd gold button glinting at his jaw hinge.

Sans frowns when he sees the new skeleton is bare foot, and really, what the hell is with that; black pants are heavy and loose, his white shirt nearly pristine and his dark orange bomber jacket is heavy.

Sans sighs inwardly, somethings wrong here, even if it’s the assassin, the muscle, and the tactician. Edge is moving too stiffly, Sin’s arm is curled around his ribs and Glass looks a little to desperate. When Sans glances briefly up at Lilith he can see it in her eyes, that she sees it too, knows something isn’t right. Crimson eyes are glancing from one to the other, taking stock of what must be injuries and weakness to exploit if she needs to.

Edge snarls down at them, causing Lilith to puff up and sneer in response as her crimson eyes refocuses on him, and Sans knows his baby-girl enough to know when she’s revving up for a fight. They maybe hurt, but they brought the fight to the mages, and Lilith isn’t going to go easy on them just because of injuries.

“Can we help you?” the soft voice is from Lola, well behind the line that Lilith and Sans have created, her eyes like emeralds and Sans knows her well enough now to know that she’s just as ready to fight. She’s pulled Frisk further into the centre of their pack and behind her, giving Sloan the ability to attack and sling spells with both hands, and the outline of a shield is at her arm, bright green as it hums with magic.

The hell fire that makes up Edge’s eye light lift over Lilith’s head towards Lola’s soft, sweet voice, and that angry mouth pulls deeper into a snarl, “Which of you is a healer?” he sounds like he swallowed glass, his voice torn and rough.

Lola’s eyes narrow and they flash a darker, sickly green and instantly Felix and Undyne each take a sidestep from beside her to stand in front of her, their faces grim and eyes dark with anger as if daring them to make a move. Edge grins coldly and knows instantly its Lola, has found his target with surprising ease. Sans feels his hackles rise, and his smirk takes a bitter twist as the two behind Edge suddenly brighten with _something_ that Sans doesn’t have time to read.

_~~It’s not hope, Sans refuses to believe he saw that, and shoves that thought into a dark, deep box.~~ _

“Hey,” Lilith’s cold voice sneers up at him, and she snaps her long fingers up at Edge, drawing his attention back to her, “Leave.” It’s an order if Sans had ever heard one.

The angry skeleton’s mouth lifts in a scowl as the two behind him laugh, none seeing the threat that Lilith is. Seems to Sans, they didn’t do their research before strolling into _their_ universe, and he grins at the thought of it. They’re about to get their asses handed to them, they just don’t know it yet.

“Give me the healer.” Edge sneers down to her, getting into her face, getting closer to crowd her in, trying to intimidate the battle mage.

Sans’s grin sharpens as thoughts of injury and hopeful faces were wiped from his mind with that not so vailed threat; he doesn’t let any of his annoyance and anticipation show on his face, doesn’t let on to his own growing irritation at being threatened. Doesn’t let Edge see the fight that’s brewing, because, yeah that’s gonna go over real well with Lilith.

Lilith smirks up at him, it’s bitter and twisted as her face hardens and her crimson eyes darken to the shade of blood, turning to the like of bloody ice chips. Her hands ball into fists, and magic swirls heavily around her tightly curled hands into the form of her gauntlets, heavy and metal. Sans doesn’t react, doesn’t dare give her away and continued to smile with a sharp smirk up at this dark, twisted version of his brother.

“Go fuck yourself.” Lilith said coldly, discreetly stepping completely in front of Sans, doing what battle mages did, protecting the Den, protecting her mate. Edge sneered down at her, daring to get closer, trying to intimidate her.

“Move girl, or I’ll kill you.” It’s not an empty threat, and it makes Lilith’s grim smile turn sharp enough to cut, “And your soft little boy friend.”

Sans goes still at the threat, his soul doing a weird little drop at the thread directed at him, but he continues to glare darkly. Before him, Lilith’s head tilted a little, eyes narrowing as magic crackle at her fingers; it was certainly one thing to threaten her, happened on a weekly basis really, but it was a whole other ball game when Sans was threatened; Lilith didn’t take well to Sans being the target of said threats.

The smirk fell from her lips when Edge threatened Sans, her eyes flooding black with her fury as she studied him for a moment, dark eyes giving him a quick up and down. Sans grins when he feels her magic coil tightly at her core, knows she’s going to attack quick and brutally, can _feel_ it in the air around her as she flings herself over the killing edge. That terrifying point of no return, and Lilith is going to hurt someone.

The only noise she makes is a soft, _huh_ before she strikes out with her vicious right hook that catches Edge in the right side of his face with all her fury and power. There’s a horrible noise as his skull cracks, the bone right over his fangs giving way to the powerful punch from a furious battle mage.

It takes Edge to his knees like a puppet whose strings were just cut, and Sans steps back, lobbing a wave of white bones at Glass before he can start an attack at Lilith. The attack catches him off guard, makes him stumble backwards and out of the way of the wave, and Glass is tossing his own wave back at Sans with a chest deep snarl of rage.

Sans laughs as he easily sides steps the attack, doesn’t even bother to short cut and feels the air that’s displaced as the bones are whipped by, intending to impale Lilith’s body with vicious, viral intent that surely would have dusted Sans in a single hit.

Yet, his mate is already gone, leap-tracing at Sin, catching him off guard; the taller skeleton hadn’t expected her to come out of the trace like a Tasmanian devil, leaping at his skull to lock her knees around his throat and dragging him to the ground with her heavier body weight and gravity, twisting as they fell so she landed on top, all the air rushing from Sin’s body as they land heavily; using her heavier, muscular weight, Lilith pins him and rabbit punches him as quick and hard as she can in the skull, her hands protected by her gauntlets, and she leans into every strike with the weight of her body with brutal, precise attacks.

Glass screams out his anger and frustration at his miss, sharp clawed hand lifting to toss bones at Lilith as she pinned Sin; Sans steps forward, summoning a Gaster blaster as his eye erupts into blue and gold as he fires broiling hot magic at Glass. This scared version of his brother sees the attack coming, his face falling into shocked fury, and barely sides steps the attack, his own going wide to miss Lilith by a long shot.

With a bitter, over exaggerated laugh, because he can and it seems to annoy Glass, causing his attacks to grow sloppier, Sans shifts out of the way of a wave of bone attacks, barely moving before he’s easily sending his own back with a saucy grin. This time making contact and clips Glass’s shoulder with a bright blue bone, making him cringe in pain. Glass clutches at his arm with a hiss as Sans’s karma eats away at his HP; this is easier then the time Sans had fought with Madelyn, or maybe he’s just gotten better but it’s no less amusing.

From the corner of his eye lights, Sans catches a glimpse of Edge pushing himself to his feet, he’s shaky and marrow is pouring from his mouth, and Sans feels a brief pulse of nervousness as the scary skeleton struggles to his feet. Even with the home field advantage, Edge is much stronger than Sans, and he shifts his stance to square up with the taller skeleton.

Lilith is suddenly back by his side, appearing from a cloud of crimson dust and fury, easily getting between Edge and Sans as she grasps Edge’s skull with both hands as he continues to struggle, driving her knee into his face with devastating effect as hot marrow burst from his nasal structure.

She moves to do it again, and Sans grits his teeth when Edge _laughs_ , its cold and cruel, unnerving to the soul, and when he catches Lilith’s leg, Sans feels his hackles rise. fury sparking in his soul that Edge would dare touch his mate, but he shoves Lilith away as hard as he can.

Lilith takes a step back at the shove, stumbles a little and gives Sans the opening he needs to send another wave of magic towards Glass, driving him back towards the portal with sharpened bones spearing up from the ground, forcing Glass to back up.

Sans shifts his body again, catches site of Sin trying to get back up, holding his bruised and bloodied face, looking a little dazed and hurt; with a snort, Sans sends a spinning bone club that hits Sin square between the eyes with a painful _clank_.

Sans almost laughs as it drops the taller, thinner version of himself to his back with an _oghff_ , his nasal structure bleeding, skull bruised from both he and Lilith; behind him, Lilith has dropped to a knee as Edge forces himself to his feet, driving her fist into Edge’s left leg, aiming to break his knee and cripple him.

He makes a pained gurgle , and there’s a brief look of confusion and horror that melts Lilith’s cold fury when she feels his knee shift _wrong,_ the bone grinding again bone, like little shards of his knee are trying to be held together by watery, thin magic, like that knee has already been shattered, and Edge refuses to fall.

Instead, he swings down at her with vicious clawed brass knuckles at Lilith, aiming to tare her pretty face off if he can only land the punch that she easily catches, even on her own knee and a bad angle, and any confusion is gone in the span of a blink and her fury is back. She catches his uncoordinated attack at his hands, her own wrapping around his fist carefully to avoid the sharp metal and at Edge’s thin wrist and she twists his arm as she forces herself upwards to her feet. Edge is forced to move with the counterattack, even as it brings him down to his own knees with practiced ease, and Edge doesn’t make a noise when Lilith breaks his humorous without hesitation; he grimaces as the bone fractures, clawed hand digging into the soil beneath them as he swallows any show of hurt. 

Sans pauses, hesitates when he feels his soul give an odd twist. Something was wrong, not right and he knows Lilith can feel it too, she’s been going easy if this is the first bone that she’s broken and Edge was supposed to be a tactician. Nothing about this seems coordinated or thought out, it’s almost as if he’s…

A hand fists into the back of his sweater and Sans feels a dark, oppressive aura surround him, leaving him feeling hopeless and helpless and grey, taking all the fight out of him in an instant as the hand gives him a hard shake, his body suddenly limp like a rag doll. Helplessness and despair wash over him, press inward on his soul, and Sans wonders why they fought at all, what was the point?

He doesn’t flinch when the cold voice behind him stalls Lilith, draws that fury to Sans’s suddenly hopeless face and the thing behind him, “Stop, or I’ll kill him.” And a black skeletal hand wraps around Sans’s throat to force his chin back up, and the thick tentacles coiling around him shiver with agitation.

Lilith is still holding Edge’s shattered arm in her hands, black eyes glance to Felix who has positioned himself in front of Lola firmly, looking torn and angry, not sure if he should stay to protect or move to help Lilith. Lilith shakes her head no at him, telling him to stay put despite the threat without words.

Wall to wall black eyes burn back at Nightmare, unafraid and furious; they flick down to Sans, and Lilith feels her soul drop at the sudden sadness on his face, how his magic has dissipated leaving him looking hallow and broken.

He stares numbly at her, doesn’t seem to feel the tears that slip freely down his face; Lilith snarls, low and angry, knows the creature that dare touch her mate is Nightmare, knows that he’s affecting Sans like this, leaving him helpless to pain and depression, “Kill one of mine and I’ll kill one of yours.” Her voice is full of cold fury, rage of untold depth.

Nightmare grins back at her, it’s just as cold and cruel, and his dim blue eye light glances to the mages at their backs; surprised they haven’t jumped into the fray, likely assuming that the warrior mage could manage the three of them, and she had. Much to Nightmare’s disappointment and distress, she _had_ dominated the fight from the very beginning, beating on his boys like they were nothing, and her soft little Sans was no slouch either. He mocked with laughter and tossed attacks as readily as his own did, dodged with an easy air that spoke of training.

That azure eye glances to Edge with a frown, and Nightmare calls her bluff with a tut, knows enough that she loves the little Sans in his grip, and that makes her weak easy to control. He firmly ignores the weird, weak feeling that burns in his own soul like fire, “And around and around we go. I kill yours; you kill mine.” His smirk has become gooey and sharp, like shadows from a nightmare, “Go catch.”

With surprising strength, Nightmare throws Sans at the portal; Sans feels his non-existent stomach drop and twist as he flails, barreling towards the swirling darkness that surely will only mean terror and pain. This is a trap, certainly this is a trap and he feels weightless as he’s tossed, that horrible helplessness sticking to his soul when there is nothing he can do to stop this from happening.

Lilith gasps, fear spiking through even her fury that makes her soul pang and twist as her eyes track Sans briefly before she’s running after him, throwing herself into a desperate trace as fast as she can. Dark memories of a time underground, when she _missed_ his hand flood her mind, made easier by being near the dark being that was Nightmare, but she refuses to fail Sans again. Not like that, not again. She won’t let them hurt him.

Nightmare laughs as she disappears in a cloud of crimson magic, feels her desperation to catch Sans before he disappears beyond the swirling, dark portal, can feel her divine terror and heart sick soul that tells him this is not the first time this has happened, not the first time she’s lost him. Laughs at her determination to keep him safe, can nearly hear her thoughts that practically say, _like hell that’s happening again_. Nightmare watches her she comes out of the trace with a great deal of amusement as she appears behind Sans, wrapping her heavy body around his as they disappear through the portal; Sans acting like a sinking anchor and drags her with him into Nightmare’s world. 

Nightmare nods to himself, seemly satisfied even if this has been an utter disaster and he’s more exhausted then ever, the light in his body draining him quicker then he usually would be, but at least they have one of the humans. Emotions makes them easy to manipulate, and he knows he’s good at making people act against their own interests, and he’ll get his healer one way or another.

There’s shouting and threats as the human and the Sans of this world disappear into the spinning portal, but Nightmare turns and ignores it, they have what they need for now. He glances down to Edge on his knees, arm curled tightly into his body, barely upright and aware. His body has taken enough damage that even the drugs he’s pumped into his systems can’t keep the pain back, and he’s breathing in harsh little pants as he hisses between his teeth.

“Get up.” Nightmare hisses at him, and already the other humans are running at them, “We need to go.”

Somehow, even Nightmare doesn’t now how, Edge does; his freshly broken arm is released to hang at an awkward, horrible angle and his eye light is defused with drugs and agony. Yet, that’s what Edge does, doesn’t he? Endure through the worst of it, fight until he had nothing left to give.

That’s what Edge did. That endurance was what saw not only himself but Red and Mercy through Underfell.

He gives Nightmare a weak nod, and he’s limping for the portal as Sin and Glass pick themselves up, both bleeding and hurt. Nightmare sighs, what a fucking mess, and now Edge is worse off then he was before they came to this shit hole.

They disappear through the swirling dark portal, Nightmare the last one through and smirks when he feels the brush of an axe that just misses his shoulder. He laughs at the angered cry of the human with the mohawk as the portal snaps shut behind them.

-

Lilith clings to Sans as they pass through the oozy portal cringing and shivering as they pass through the dark magic, feels Sans tremble in her arms; the portal is cold, like being pushed into the lake in the winter and it leaves them just as breathless.

They slam into a stone pillar hard enough to crack the stone, and Lilith’s body jerks when she feels something pop in her spine and bone give against stone. Pain burns through her, making her nauseous and her vision swim, just before adrenaline spikes hard to numb it. They land in a heap to the cold stone floor, her body numb from the waist down, but already green healing magic is putting her spine back together.

She feels Sans squirm against her, can still feel his unrelenting sadness from Nightmare and Lilith’s arms tighten around him, caging him against her chest. Lilith flinches when they hear four sets of footsteps come into the room, their voices angry; Lilith knows she’s helpless to fight back until her spine pulls itself together, and Sans is compromised. Hurt in a way that she can’t fix quickly; she squeezes him against her a little tighter and stays quiet as the feeling comes back slowly to her legs.

“That was fucking stupid of the three of you.” The voice from Nightmare is small and raspy, like he’s having a hard time speaking, “You’re supposed to have a fucking idea. You’re supposed to know how to fight!” 

Lilith’s voice is soft while she tracks Nightmare by his voice, wriggling her toes with a grin, “Sans?”

He squeezes her forearms, pressing back into her firm body, “Here.” He whispered back, sounding a little stronger then Lilith would have guessed, feeling a swell of pride, knowing that her baby was tougher then he looked.

Sans feels her nod against the back of his skull, and she pushes herself up onto her elbow to glance around the stone room, looking for some place to retreat to while Nightmare continued to snarl at his team, “You two are fucking bleeding! Could you not have taken a single healer on your own!”

Lilith lays back down behind him, nuzzling into his skull, and it helps Sans relax, his soul regulating after it’s odd little bout of sadness being near Nightmare, “There’s a door at our backs. When the fighting starts, get behind it. I’m right behind you.”

Sans nods, “What are you going to do?” he tries to be brave, tries not to feel scared.

Her hand reaches around to catch his chin, drawing him up to press a desperate kiss to his mouth as she gets full feeling back in her toes, thanking whoever is listening for her healing trait. Sans sighs softly, sockets sliding shut as he tastes his mate; and she tastes like fury and magic, her mouth soft and velvety despite how stiff her body is, readying for a fight, “Make them regret taking us.” She whispers against his teeth, her eyes are black with fury, her vice like acid in her soul.

His hand reaches up to her cheek, cupping it softly, pulling her back down for another quick kiss, “Be careful. Nightmare’s got some kind of power, it…” he can’t describe the feeling that suddenly overtook him, the feeling that still lingers a little and makes him want to lay down and sleep. It makes him feel worthless and tired, and he doesn’t want Lilith to feel like this.

Lilith nods, face softening only a little as she tries to understand, knows how he still struggles after a year and a half on the surface and therapy, and knows that Nightmare did this to her mate. Her fury makes any lingering softness fade, and she swears she’s going to make Nightmare hurt for this; magic is gathering in the pit of her body and ready to kill, “I love you.” She whispers against his teeth.

Sans smiles, its softened by her affection, his soul swelling with love and positive emotion, helping him feel a little more stable, “Love you too.”

Their smiles fade from something soft to something cruel and vicious.

“Where the hell is the human?” Nightmare sneers, “She better not be fucking dead, we need to trade her back for the healer.”

Lilith pushes herself to her feet, rolling upwards with deadly grace and fluidity, helping Sans to his, keeping a cautious eye on Nightmare. Sin, Glass and Edge are at his back, all three looking weary and hurt, Edge’s single working eye light has blown wide enough that it almost takes up his whole socket and has gone all hazy at the edges. The other two keep glancing to him with worry, and good, their distracted.

Lilith ignores it, ignores their hurts and pain, pulling Sans behind her fully to square up with Nightmare, breathing slowly and deeply with a glare.

Nightmare’s face scrunches a little into confusion as her swirling magic intensifies around her and finally solidifies into armor, heavy and bulky, and Lilith shakes herself out, resettles herself with a determined set to her shoulders, readying for round two.

“Ah, there you are.” Nightmare doesn’t sound as confident as he did before, and he’s rubbing at his shoulder with a grimace, like he’s in pain, glancing at that heavy armor, “Now be a good little human and surrender.”

Lilith snarls, ignoring his grimace of pain; these are not her friends even if they look like her friends, she owes them no mercy, and pulls her swords free. Nightmare tsks, shaking his head at them, suddenly noticing he’s rubbing at his shoulder in pain, crossing his arms in front of his chest to stop himself from doing that, “I don’t think you understand human, you are trapped in my world now.”

Sans grasps at the back of Lilith’s armor as she keeps herself planted between Sans and the threat, and Lilith smirks. Magic gathers in her body, a spell she has spend the last year mastering; light magic weaves itself through the magical steel of her blade, giving it an impressive edge of light.

“I think you’ve misunderstood the situation here.” Lilith’s voice is cold and flat, and the light makes Nightmare’s smirk drop as it shines brightly in his dark world, reflecting up at her pale face eerily. The light washes her out like bleach, her eyes are solid black and her grin wide and cruel, “I’m not trapped here with you; you’re trapped here with me.”

Sans snorts from behind his mate as she spins one of her blades with a grin, the light leaving a weaving streak not dissimilar to that of a child playing with a sparkler as Nightmare’s smirk turns grim when he asks, “What are you?”

“Pissed off.” Sans chirps from the relative safety behind his mate, and a cheeky smirk that makes Lilith’s mouth twist into a dark grin.

She takes an offensive stance and waits for an opening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is confused to the time line, this takes place roughly year after Five Months, and a year and a half after The Ninety Fourth Time.


	3. A Matter of Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare is having a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Another update that I'm glad came out pretty quick. I've been pretty excited how this came out and the direction this story is going. I've got up to chapter five done and written out in a rough first draft, which is part of the reason I can get the chapters a little quicker then normal. 
> 
> Some warnings here: fairly detailed description of violence, soul touching, a seizure and bodily fluids. Reader beware. 
> 
> Let me know if I've missed anything

Nightmare’s smirk fell, his dark, twisted soul dropped down to his non-existent gut and a rare feeling pulsed through him; it takes him a moment to realize it’s _dread,_ thick and heavy like rot in his soul. She wasn’t afraid of him, not with that fucking light woven through her blades, his brother’s calling card and a sure sign that Dream had gotten to this world first to warn them of their existence. There’s no other explanation for her unwavering confidence and preparation.

Nightmare grits his teeth as they form into a mouth full of fangs, his soul twisting with anger and unease, his magic rippling with fury and the magic that makes up his body sharpens. He embraces that anger as it rises at her audacity, as fury builds at his brother for dooming them all and no doubt getting them all unknowingly killed. He’s particularly angry at the soft little Sans at her back, the smug little shit. He’s far too confident in their abilities.

He firmly ignores the fact that Sans has every right to be smug, standing confidently behind a bloody mage who has all the power here, and Nightmare hates it. Hates the sudden onslaught of feelings from the light shards that have sunk into the magic that makes up his body, hates that he hesitates, hates that he’s _afraid._ He doesn’t remember the last time he felt fear, surely before the changing, he thinks, and he fell into power to become the creature he was.

It’s a bitter, clouting taste, this newly found fear and Nightmare doesn’t care for.

Stubbornly, he clings to his anger, it’s easier to manage and regulate. He tries to bury his fear and its pungent taste, pretend it doesn’t exist and he’s fine, no different from before the attack. He’s. Fine.

His anger roils, bubbles hotly in his watery magic, his LV claws at his soul, and his body _throbs_ with pain from the light shards that have sunk into his body. The pain too, is unusual, an experience he had long forgotten about, something he hadn’t really felt since before his turning and it’s making him unsteady. He’s not thinking clearly, he’s hurting and lashing out, and he just wants to get the healer and fucking sleep.

He really hadn’t _intended_ on taking a fighter.

Giving his head a hard shake to clear it, Nightmare forces a smirk at them with a nightmare fuelled grin full of sharp teeth and azure magic; despite the feeling of uncertainty that fills him and it wars with and dilutes his anger. It’s so unusual, it’s been so long since he _felt,_ it’s distracting and tiresome _._ Fucking light shards came at a piss poor time.

Edge is barely on his feet, unsteady and hurting, and Nightmare isn’t stupid enough to think he can fight, not now, not with the damage that the mage beat into him. Glass and Sin will have to do, it’ll have to be enough. He cringes when he feels his stomach churn when he suddenly realizes they are all going to die here, and he hates that he feels like that.

He tenses when the human’s body shifts, her stance widens, and she shifts forward to drop into a more aggressive stance. The blades gleam vicious obsidian, crimson magic shimmering over the guards and the light bright, shimmering at the sharpened edge of the sword.

Something like anxiety twists Nightmare’s gut, _is that really what anxiety feels like_ , and he snarls at the threat he accidentally brought into their home, thinking he should just drop her in a Fell universe. Keep her soft little boyfriend here, he at least seemed to be affected by his aura, and that’d wipe the smug look off his face. Break him a little, that’d take her down a peg or two.

She takes a breath, and behind him the others tense, readying for the second round, but it’s the fucking Sans at her back that attacks first; no one spotted him gathering magic behind his bitch of a mate, didn’t see his control hand shimmering in blue before the Gaster blaster is summoned and shot off in a blast of white hot magic that blinds them all in the tight space.

The magic barely misses them, sizzling hot as Glass shoved Edge off his feet to avoid the wicked fast attack from a Judge. Sin stumbles with a sides step to avoid the attack with wide sockets when the magic sizzles at the edge of his jacket, grey smoke curling lightly from where the magic licked at the leather, and Nightmare can feel his _fear_ before the magic is taring a hole through the wall at their backs.

The heavy grey stone crumbs in a horrific orchestra of noise and acidic smoke, almost like a cave in underground as the soft little asshole, Sans, turns tail and runs. It’s almost deafening in the aftermath, the smell of acrid magic and burning grass from where his lawn had been disintegrated is heavy in the tight space, making Nightmare feel hazy as his soul pulses with horror.

Sans is bolting directly towards the sick ward as hard as he can. Arms and legs pumping as he ran, his sweater bunching up at his elbows, and he doesn’t look back once. Nightmare doesn’t know if it’s because this Sans is a coward or he has that much faith in his mate, but Nightmare doesn’t have the time to consider the truth as rage bubbles up in his soul for him to cling to, and he again tries to bury the dismay.

With a brutal scream, Nightmare’s tentacles shoot after him, intending on stopping him and breaking something for daring to approach his team when they’re vulnerable, when red magic and star dust bursts at his side. Nightmare feels his eyes widen in surprise and horror as the mage suddenly appears at his side; she’s midair, obsidian swords coming down at an impressive angle, trapping Nightmare; he’s got no where to run, his magic is too thin, running on fumes and he knows this is going to hurt.

He tries to brace for the pain, he does, but the scream that’s ripped from his throat in a guttural cry when the mage’s feet hit the ground, planting firmly, and her blades slice through the two tentacles in a single, easy swoop. _She’s done this before,_ is a distance, hazy thought that somehow trickles into his overwhelmed mind as the white-hot light severs his tentacles like a hot knife through butter. The light feels like acid burns as it cuts through his body, cauterizing the wounds as it passes through the watery magic that makes up his body. He knows he’s too weak now to heal, to regenerate those tentacles, leaving thrashing stumps that won’t serve him here.

Heh, at least he can’t feel the shards in those tentacles anymore.

The swords reangle as the mage spins, the blades spinning with her, aiming for his throat when he’s too hazy to consider dodging, staring at what was left of two of his tentacles, _and really, has pain always hurt this much_.

He’s dazed and confused, hurting and distracted when she aims for him, and it’s Glass who pulls her back; his massive clawed hand grabs at the back of her chest plate to yank her back as hard as he can, and Nightmare watches in stunned disbelieve as she catches herself on the fall.

She’s fast and nimble, spinning like a top, away from them as Glass takes a defensive stance in front of him, to protect Nightmare. She’s light on her feet, quicker now that she’s driven to protect Sans and the only bystanders are _them._

Sin shakes off his fear, growls lowly as she spins near him, and he catches her by the wrists when she twists to attack, squeezing tight enough to bruise the soft flesh that is protected by enhanced steel, and the mage smiles at him. It’s sharp and cruel, a warning of just how mean she could be, when she drives her knee into his ribs once, twice, grabbing onto the scruff of his coat with one hand, letting the swords dissipate so she can better hang onto him, and on the third time Sin’s ribs give way. Nightmare cringes when he hears what must have been two ribs crack under the pressure.

Winded, Sin gasps and stumbles back, pain whiting out his vision as she takes her chance to swoop his legs out from under him with little more then fancy foot work and speed. She kneels low as she spins, her ankle catches his and she pulls her leg back for all her worth. It sends him collapsing to the ground with a strained cry, pain barely swallowed back as he crumples onto his broken ribs. Nightmare can only watch on in horror and agony as she pushes to her feet, a shiny new sword summoned and spinning with a grace and ease. Her smirk is dark with the dead eyed look of a killer as she stalks her prey; Sin tries to force himself upright, but he just can’t seem to manage it as he trembles from his crumpled form.

Never in his life has Nightmare ever wished more then now to not _feel_ anything; knows he’s too far to get to Sin in time, knows he’s too hurt, his magic too weak to offer a real resistance as she towers over Sin and draws the sword up to take a kill shot. There’s a brief, horrific moment when Nightmare can see it, the obsidian blade that will impale Sin’s skull with enough intent to snuff out his soul, and he’ll lose one of his own.

Something, some kind of _emotion,_ swells and chokes him, makes him freeze beyond the brutal cursing of the light magic that is making him _feel_ things that he has no idea how to regulate. 

Sin cringes inward, broken arm wrapped around his equally broken ribs, trying desperately to catch his breath when Edge takes a wild swing at the back of her head, it’s wide and sloppy, but he aims for her skull with heavy brass knuckles, aiming to crack her skull.

She ducks in a fluid motion of predatorial grace; Edge misses her skull by a baby’s breath and strains of her reddish hair catch in the heavy, spiked brass knuckles it’s so close, and how she knows it’s coming, Nightmare doesn’t dare guess.

Edge doesn’t hesitate, he kicks her square in the chest as she tries to spin away with a brutal attack that topples her. The attack disarms her and she drops her sword as she falls flat to her back, and she rolls with the momentum despite what must have felt like being kicked by a horse, over Sin, and back directly to her feet.

Nightmare glances to Edge, hazy with pain and drugs, uneasy with how easily she shook that brutal kick off, how it didn’t even slow her down as her angry, black eyes are focused back on Edge. She shifts her body weight lower to stabilize her center of gravity and lifts her hands up with the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing. She growls low in her throat, widens her stance as her shoulders loosen like a well-trained fighter.

She’s on him like a demon with no warning as she charges with a hard exhale of air; her punches are fast strikes, hard and brutal, giving no quarter despite his broken body. Edge tries to fight back, offer a defense to protect himself but she’s faster, healthier, and stronger; she gets passed his defenses with ease, every strike landing, denting his chest plate into his ribs with a brutality that would have been seen in Underfell’s palace. Her body hums with magic, almost like a crimson sheen of sweat as she gets _faster_ the longer, she fights as she dominates Edge.

She swings a fist for his spine, missing only just, a hit that would have crippled him and instead charges forward to take him off his feet. They hit the ground hard, smashing through a table that Edges skull bounces off, and she rolls them so she’s on top. Her fist poised up high to break something when Glass wraps his thicker arms around her chest and yanks upward for all his worth.

The mage comes off Edge with a furious scream, and he doesn’t get back up. Nightmare watches in shock as Edge writhes and gasps in pain, curling into himself and into a ball. He curls tightly in around his core on his side to protect his broken arm and what is certainly broken ribs on the other side of his rib cage; Nightmare feels that horrible, choking feeling claw at his throat and doesn’t understand fully what he’s feeling. It’s a strong emotion and he hates how he feels _helplessness and terror_.

How the fuck do people feel all the time? It’s exhausting, and he’s only been at if for what, a week at most? He hates it, everything about it. It was better to be numb, at least then he’d care less when the mage screams out in frustration and anger, her words rough when she snarls _oh come on,_ as Glass lifts her up, and she kicks viciously at the air. It’s enough for Glass to lose his balance as he tips too far back as she kicks her legs up higher then his centre of gravity, a feat in of itself with his height.

They fall backwards, Glass cringing as her heavy body, full of water and iron and wrapped in metal lands heavily on his sternum. She doesn’t hesitate to throw an elbow blindly at his face before Glass can make a move, his head snapping back with a gush of marrow that splatters over her furious face. It stuns Glass just enough that she can roll off him, her hands reaching desperately for the table she and Edge had destroyed when they crashed through it, gripping at a broken, wooden leg tightly.

Her hands choke up on the table leg with the confidence of a base ball player who knows how to hit a grand slam, and as Glass pushes himself up with an angry snarl, magic sparking at his claws, she swings with all her might, body shimmering crimson, breaking the leg across his face; more marrow spews from his nasal structure as his head snaps in the opposite direction, sending him to the floor.

With a grunt, Nightmare is horrified, and really that’s a weird feeling, when she stands with little damage to her body and any harm is knitting closed with shiny, green healing magic that seems to come from within. She snarls, angry and vicious with dead eyes, lifting the table leg over her head and Nightmare can feel the vitriol from where he’s stunned to stillness, the vicious intent that will kill each and everyone of them, when the soft, little Sans of her world starts to scream her name.

-

Sans knows he needs to put distance between the fight and himself and needs to do it right quick. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle himself, he could, Lilith taught him how; she and Felix had drilled it into his thick skull how to attack, how to defend, how to be mindful of his attacks to make each one count with his lousy stamina. It was only just that if he were too close, Lilith would be more concerned with keeping him safe and not putting an end to this threat.

He needed to get away, get behind the door so she could focus on the fight and not if he were okay. Besides, he wasn’t going to let that fucker Nightmare use him as bait again thanks, so if getting out of the way was what he could do, then so be it.

He burst through the heavy wooden door, both palms slapping against the rough material hard enough for him to wince as Lilith sliced through Nightmare’s tentacles, flinching at his torn, rough scream, glanced over his shoulder to watch as he stumbles away from Lilith. Sans ignores it, stumbles himself to get into the room, trips over his own stupid feet. He turns to slam the door shut as he watches in utter horror as Lilith is practically torn away from Nightmare and caught by Sin. Sans watches her turn on Sin with a sharp, cruel smile and vicious intent he can feel from where he’s standing across the room, all fluid fury, sharp blades, and hard hits.

Sucking in a breath of air, tasting the malevolence in the air at the back of his tongue, Sans slams the door shut when Lilith breaks two of Sin’s ribs. He sighs into the space of his relative safety, centring himself and turns to look for a way out of this mess, only to freeze in utter confusion, his mind going blank at what he’s found.

Of all the things he thought he would see here today, and he had imagined some twisted things when he and Lilith were hurled through that portal, sick skeletons were not one of those things. In all honesty, a sick ward full of cheap knockoff look-a -likes, would not even had breeched his top twenty guesses at what they would have found here. Torture, that was what Sans’s number one guess had been, something being broken was a pretty close number two, but an entire room of the sick and dying? Nah, not even in the same ballpark and yet, here he is, wading up to his waist in it.

The smell of infection, fear sweat, and blood is thick in the room, almost enough to make him gag and taste it at the back of his throat; it’s gut churning, and Sans remembers a time, not that long ago, when Felix lay dying on a bed in the infirmary and the same toxic stench filled the room. This seemed worse, the wounds old and reek of infection, the blood and marrow stale. It’s smeared over things and skeletons as if someone had tried to wipe it away but just couldn’t manage it, and the smell of fear sweat seemed to stick to everything.

Sans’s doesn’t know where to look first, which horror needs his attention the most, but eventually his eye lights fall onto the terrified face of a girl that looks just like Frisk and it makes his soul twist with grief.

In her hands is a butter knife pointed at him with shaky hands and hell, if doesn’t that bring back some shit memories. She trembles as she tries to keep her back straight and appear unafraid of him but doesn’t quite have the confidence. Sans blinks at her owlishly, stunned to stillness at what he’s found when he knows movement will save his life and the pieces are slow to start to click together in his mind. At her back is a thin skeleton, he’s sweating and shivering on the bed, and Sans is horrified to see that this asshole looks like him; Red, the muscle, and he’s not in a good way. Distantly, Sans idly muses that he thought Red would have been bigger, his reputations certainly was, but his fucker looked to be smaller than Sans himself. Bones scared but thinner from growing in starvation and shorter.

Sans pushes that thought away, frowning; if their best defense is a kid with a butter knife, they must be fucked.

The skeleton, Red, twists in a painful way, his back arched off the bed and red sweat drips down his skull, soaking the thin, hard pillow someone has slipped under his head. His eyes are clenched shut and razor-sharp teeth grit together as he manages to grimace in pain even in sleep, panting hard and fast. His clawed hands tare into the ratty fabric of the mattress at his back, and Sans can’t help but feel his soul twist with how _wrong_ this all is.

With a throaty groan, Red collapses back to the hard mattress on his side, claws digging in deeper into the bed, ripping out the hard material and springs as he curls into the fetal position, his breathing getting worse,

“Stay back.” The almost Frisk speaks with a trembling voice, and it causes Sans to jerk back, having never heard Frisk’s voice. Outside, he can hear Lilith fighting with the skeletons who took them, but here. Here’s the reason they’ve been taken. The reason they were looking for a healer and the fucking hopeful faces on Sin and Glass when it was confirmed that Lola could heal.

“I won’t let you hurt him. Them!” she’s sounds desperate and afraid, the bravest of the soft ones; there’s another child tucked into another Sans’s side, looks afraid with wide eyes and a pale face, and a massive skeleton that looks like Papyrus with his teeth smashed in, who looks like he’s about to cry.

The bravest of the lot of them is before Sans. A child no older than Frisk armed with a butter knife.

Slowly, he lifts his hands up, fingers spread and gives her a disarming smile, “It’s okay kiddo. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

There’s a crash outside that points to the contrary, and someone is grunting in pain. Sans feels sweat prickle at his forehead at her dead panned look even as he forces his smile to stretch a little wider.

“You’re not a healer.” Her voice is small and angry, accusatory as if this is his fault. Her breathing hitches as her green eyes filling with tears, disappointed and afraid, and it makes Sans’s soul ache.

He gives a little sigh, hands still high and fingers splayed in surrender and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him? These people took him, kidnaped he and Lilith to use as bait, and yet he felt bad for them. Felt pity for the frightened kid in a room full of her sick and dying people, and wonders if he had been in their position, what would he have done?

The bruised place in his soul presses inward, and he curses.

“Not quite.” He says softly, he’s trying to pacify her, he’s not trying to scare her, “We’re…” whatever Sans is about to say dies in his throat; outside he can hear Lilith fighting and winning, beating the hell out of whoever was within her reach, when Red makes a deep, wet noise.

Just.

Before.

He seizes.

It’s horrifying to watch. Red’s body suddenly twists back onto his spine, locking up and shakes as a full-blown seizure, his limbs are stiff and twitch, and his sharp teeth clenched, and he’s horribly silent. Magic flashes weakly at his fingers and his eye, dim and desperate as the seizure continues, his fragile body thrashing on the bed, and magic foams at his mouth. It’s a dim red, frothy and almost looks like blood is pouring from his mouth as his jaw clenches shut, magic smearing across his pale face.

Sans almost wishes Red would scream, wonders if it would be somehow less horrible to witness his body fighting for life if he would vocalize his pain and not this eery near silent gurgle as he chocked on air and magic.

The kid drops the butter knife and the tears stream down her face as she watches _her_ Sans seize, “Red!” she sobs, its deep and afraid, and Sans can’t move. Hands still up in surrender, mouth dropped open in shock and from behind Red’s bed, the big broken Papyrus cries. Sans watches as the little Frisk, smaller than his own, takes the shaky steps to Red’s bed and crumples next to it, curling into a ball as she sobs into her hands.

This…this is why they needed a healer.

This…

Sans feels his soul twist despite everything that’s happened. What they know. His world recalibrates when he glances desperately around the sick ward, each version of he and his brother a little worse off then the last. Each one hurting and dying, and Sans dimly wonders if Dream even knows about the children here? Or that frightened looking Papyrus with the broken teeth who recoils from his presence alone, and if he did, why not say something? Was he afraid that it would change their view on this group? Would it have made a difference if they knew that there were vulnerable members of Nightmare’s team who may need their help?

Sans lowers his trembling hands, and wishes he knew.

Green eyes turn back to Sans, full of desperation and fear, “Help him. Please!” 

It snaps Sans out of his stupor, and he’s crossing the room to _Frisk_ , who’s afraid and crying, and looking to him, the only one not dying in the room, for help. He pulls her away with as much gentleness as he would have with his own Frisk and pulls her sobbing form into his chest. She clings to him instantly, burrowing into him with deep heavy sobs and he wraps his sweater around her as best he can.

On the bed, Red continues to seize, this is long, too long for a seizure to continue like this. He’s burning through magic he can’t spare, and eventually his body is going to give out and crumble in on itself.

There’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say to make his a little better. Nothing that will stop it.

Sans does the only thing he can, his soul twisting in fear and calls for Lilith. He isn’t sure if she will know what to do or how to help. He isn’t sure she would even want to help, but he trusts that at her core, Lilith is good and wouldn’t leave them to suffer. She’s been in war, surely, she knows how to manage this until they can get them to a healer; he doesn’t consider _not_ taking them to Lola as an option. His voice is high and panicky, and the only thing that will certainly bring her running.

-

Lilith looks to the door that Sans disappeared behind, her body shimmering in crimson magic as fear makes her shiver at _how_ Sans screamed her name. There’s fear and panic, and it makes her breathing hitch as her own emotions tangle, imagining the worse, knowing he’s hurt and bleeding. Knows that if he’s hurt, it’s her fault for sending him there.

She’s away from Glass faster then they realize she can move without a trace, dropping the wooden leg of the table as she bolts for the door. Glass all but forgotten curled on the floor and the massive skeleton struggles to get up, fights with his battered body to get unsteadily to his feet. He stumbles once, giving his bloody head a shake to clear it, and is after Lilith as quick as he can.

Lilith ignores him as if he’s unimportant, charging for the room where Sans is still calling her name in that high, panicky voice that only makes her run faster; when someone screaming your name like that, you _move_. She can sense Glass at her heels, can feel his rippling pain and anger in his aura as he tries to give chase, and Lilith will deal with him later. 

She _needs_ to see Sans, needs to see he’s okay to ease her pounding heart and growing panic. Just to check before she deals with Glass.

Lowering her shoulder as she nears the door, the one with the heavy metal pauldrin, Lilith breaks her way through the door, the wood splitting under the steal of her armour as the wood gives way. She’s expecting a blood bath, a fight and Sans in trouble to call for her like that. She’s expecting Sans to be hurt and bloody, needing her help and she expects the worse. It makes her heartsick to think that she sent him away only to be hurt, it makes her soul twist and her LV rip and tear at her heart; what she does not expect is a sick ward. Her booted feet slide across the stone floor as she suddenly freezes, and everything just _stops_ , and she swears she can feel her heart pause at what she finds.

Behind her, Glass runs into her back hard when he doesn’t expect her to stop so suddenly, and Lilith grunts but doesn’t move from the impact; marrow is still running down his face, but he leaves it. He lets it stream down his face like something from a horror show, grunting in pain as the spikes along her armor pierce his body, and even he freezes with a curse.

In the corner of a cold, stone room that reeks of stale illness, Sans is holding a sobbing child that looks like her sister and on the bed is Sans is having a seizure. Her breath catches in her throat, knocking her away from the killing edge at the horror she’s seeing, and it takes a moment to realize what she’s seeing.

It takes her mind a second to calm her growing panic, to smoother her fear and to recalibrate what she’s seeing; that it’s not Sans, her Sans, but Red, one of Nightmare’s Doom and Gloom crew, who is dying on the bed.

Stunned, confused black eyes turn to Sans, brightening back to crimson as she takes in Sans’s fearful face, wonders if her own expression mirrors his. The smell of pain and blood in the room is thick, the fear from behind her is heavy and clotting, and the sudden dread in this room is so heavy that it weighs even on Lilith.

Her mouth has fallen open with shock and anger, hands falling to her sides as she slowly looks around in horror at the skeletons and their number of injuries, the fighting coming to a screeching halt. When her teeth snap shut, that’s when Sans’s small voice calls out to her, “I don’t know what to do.”

The crimson eyes drift to Red, knocking her completely away from the killing edge like a wrecking ball.

There’s a soft noise behind her, a weak gurgle that spoke volumes of pain, and when Lilith tuns to look, she frowns at Edge. Big, scary Edge, who Lilith shattered without a second thought, is barely on his feet, clinging to the door frame with a desperate hand to keep from toppling over.

His single working eye light is wide and diffused with fear and panic, and Lilith watches in utter horror as a _Papyrus_ lets a single tear fall and whispers his brothers name. The frightening one, Nightmare himself, looks like shit, like he’s having a hard time not falling into a _puddle_ and not getting up again. His tentacles droop and he kept his eye on the ground as he swayed, and Sin’s face crumples into grief even as his unbroken arm bands around his ribs to protect his body.

Glass is oddly still at Lilith’s back, face still smeared in marrow, eyes blank and dark as his hands tremble. Lilith can’t watch it; can’t reconcile the stories she has heard from Dream to what she’s seeing now. Not this grief, this _hurt_ over one of their own.

They weren’t supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be cold, unfeeling killers who were going to hurt her and Sans, not this. Not this damaged, hurting group who actually _cared_ about their own. 

Red continues to seize and choke, and Sans is looking helplessly to her as he cradles the child in his arms. Suddenly their fight seems so inconsequential, so childish and no one moves.

Something akin to dread fills Lilith, she’s not a healer. Not even a medic. This is so far outside her area of expertise; she doesn’t even know where to begin or how to help. Panic swells, drowning her anger with helplessness as she watches Red twist in the hard bed.

Yet…

Her face hardens and she buries her fear under a layer of ice and steel as determination fills her; it radiates like power, warm and comforting from her soul, like an old, familiar glove. She’s no healer, but she an do a fucking field dressing, has in the past and surely, she could figure this out. Make a band aid until Lola can get here.

Lilith’s shoulders go back and takes a breath as she relaxes in her armor. She’s a leader, one who has pushed troops through the worst of the war, had brought her platoons home alive, she could handle this.

No one stops Lilith when her sure, even steps bring her to Sans, and with a gentleness that only her family has ever seen, peels the little girl from Sans’s chest. Lilith lifts her easily into her own arms, and the girl clings to her with a broken sob.

Lilith is marching back to Glass and Sin, watching as they become stiff, sockets narrowing with fear and anger now that Lilith has one of their in her arms. It would have been funny, if not for the circumstances, “Sans, keep him on the bed. Don’t touch him.”

There’s a happy ting of magic as Sans turns his soul blue and Lilith hands the girl to Glass, “Take her.” It’s an order, and it has Glass’s face crumple into confusion as Mercy is eased into his arms.

He glances with uncertainty to Sin then Nightmare, who are too tired to understand what’s happening here, just as uncertain, and weary, “What?” 

Mercy clings to him with both hands, sobbing into the scruff of his coat in deep, hyperventilating breaths and cuddles in despite that marrow on his face, and Lilith ignores him all together. She turns away, and sure, even steps bring her back to Sans and Red, her long delicate hand hoovering over Red’s broken body, not quite touching.

Crimson eyes glance over his seizing body with a deep frown, not sure where to start, and when her eyes flick up to the group knotted brokenly at the door, she frowns at their helpless, hopeless expressions. None of them move to stop her, none of them even dare to take a step near her and simply watch in shock and pain, with trembling bodies. It’s not like they could have stopped her if they tried, but she still kept them in her line of sight.

With a sigh, she glances to Sans, whose face is tight and grim, and she feels a pulse of relief that he’s okay and unharmed. He looks up to meet her eyes, give her a weak smile and a little lazy shrug before they check him.

_Sans: The Judge_

_LV: 12_

_HP: 1/5_

_AT: 100_

_DF: 110_

_His magic is almost depleted. Show mercy._

Lilith frowns down at the writhing, broken version of her mate on the bed, hands falling into balls at her sides, knowing that she’s watching Red die; watches as it’s Sans’s face twist in agony and her soul cries out at the sight. Instinct screams at her to do something, to save a Den mate and her magic revolts at the thought of Red dying. Breathing slowly through her teeth, Lilith tries to tell herself, her screaming instinct, that this isn’t Sans, he’s fine and well, and to be calm.

It doesn’t listen, and instinct rebels, demanding action. Demanding she do something.

Her magic flickers with agitation and anger as she grits her teeth and sets her jaw hard enough there is a tick in the muscle. Sans looks up at Lilith and frowns at her tense body, feels her confusion bubble in her magic and her eyes narrow. He swallows a little, voice soft so the others can’t hear him, they are still in danger, “You okay?”

Lilith looks at him and her face softened a little, and Sans gives her a quick up and down, looking for injury. He’s relieved that none of the blood looks like it’s hers, and any injury has healed. She gives him a sharp nod, eyes glancing to the knot of Nightmare’s little horror troop before looking back to Sans, “Are you okay?”

Sans gives her a small grin, holds tighter to Red’s soul to keep him on the bed and can’t stop the next words that came out of his mouth, “Yeah, I seized the opportunity to deescalate the issue.”

Despite the horror around them, the fluttering, broken soul that he pins to the hard, sticky bed and the violence that still clings to Lilith, her eyes still cringe shut in mock pain as she relaxes next to him, “Really?” There’s an almost grin that makes Sans relax a little when she opens her eyes, that become sad as she watches Red, “He needs magic, but I have no idea how to get into him.”

Heaving a sigh Sans frowns at the problem as Red continues to seize, needing magic in a bad way. White eye lights glance to Edge’s broken face, his shark like teeth parted as his breathing hitches and that stupid bruised spot in Sans’s soul pangs, “Yeah, and the restoration potion in my inventory’s gonna do shit. Can’t do anything with him if we can’t get him to swallow.”

Lilith sighs hard, muttering _fuck_ under her breath, eyes glancing back to Edge as well and Sans can see the same swell of hurt hit her as well, “Can’t swallow the one I’ve got either. He can’t wait to get to Lola, he won’t make it to get him to the infirmary.”

Sans hums, glances up, takes in the others with dim eye lights with a frown, the injuries. He glances around the room to the broken versions of himself, and he wonders what would he have done to save Lilith or Papyrus? Or Ryder or Sloan or Felix? Or Lola, or Frisk? His little family.

Sans sighs deeply as well and knows he’d have tried to kidnap a healer if he needed to. He feels his plan would have worked though.

“I’ve got an idea.” He said slowly, drawing those crimson eyes back to him and he looks up at Lilith with a fragile grin, “You’re not gonna like it.”

Lilith’s brow furrows, her frown deepening as she tilts her head, “What?” then she takes a moment to study him, consider the problem and he can see the moment it clicks in her head what his plan is without having to say anything. Her eyes go wide, “Sans.” She all but gasps, head shaking no in denial, “No, absolutely not.” She hisses back at him, verging into angry.

Sans glances to Nightmare, and how he’s suddenly straightened up at her angry tone before his eyes go back to Lilith with uncertainty, “What else can we do?” 

Lilith opens her mouth, brows furrowed into anger as if to argue before her teeth snap shut with a sharp click. Her brows furrow as she glances away, and Sans can see her mind working to look for another way, any other way. Her eyes darken and face clouds with anger, her voice soft as she mutters, “Fuck sakes.” And Sans knows that there isn’t any other way, not if they want to save Red.

A monster who wears Sans’s face, a monster that is currently dying in Sans’s hands.

He swallows, and gives her a grim grin, “I’ll do it. I’ve got as much magic as you.”

He watches Lilith frown, and lick her teeth slowly, “But I’ve got experience.” Those crimson eyes glance to him grimly, and they both know what she means.

A waterfall of power needs to come out with the control of an eyedropper, that’s what Lola had said while they were still underground, and Sans was returned to her broken and bloodied. A little too much, and it’ll kill Red, not enough, he dies anyways.

Sans grits his teeth and tastes dust. Shit, she’s not wrong, Lilith does have the skills needed to keep Red alive, doesn’t mean Sans has to like it. He glances down, feels his soul twist for this stupid fuck and dimly wonders if this a stupid idea, “All right. Do it.” He says with grim encouragement.

Lilith gives him a little grimace and nods, flexing her hands to loosen them. They both know what needs to happen, if they want Red to live. Neither of them really considers the possibility of should they, or where they only doing this because he looked like Sans and that was a weakness that Nightmare could exploit?

Neither Sans or Lilith consider this, not really, as Lilith’s fingertips brush at Red’s heaving ribs, and pauses with a deep hesitation. Sans looks up at her again, they’re running out of time and Red’s not going to make it if he keeps seizing like this for much longer, his body clinging to life. If they’re going to do this, they need to do it now.

Lilith looks down at him suddenly, eyes intense and focused that makes him sweat a little, tries to ignore the pleased shiver that runs down his spine at that look, “What?”

Lilith doesn’t say a thing, simply bends to cup his cheeks with aching gentleness and presses her mouth to his teeth; her eyes flutter shut, and Sans is so shocked that he almost lets go of Red and he almost falls from the bed.

Sans gets his grip again as his sockets sink shut and he leans into the kiss even as confusion fills him. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but if this is how he goes down, well there are worse ways to go. She laps at his teeth, and he’s helpless to part them, allowing her to roll her tongue over his to deepen their kiss.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nightmare sneers, his voice like nails on a chalk board, mouth full of fangs and anger making his magic snap around him.

Lilith breaks their kiss, soft and slow, her body loosening as she breaths softly and his magic clings to her gently; she breaths out slowly, his magic still on her breath in a soft pool of blue magic.

She’s far more relaxed now, body loose despite the heavy armor when she takes her position back by Red’s broken body, and suddenly Sans gets it, what she’s done to ensure Red’s survival as her hand hoovers over his heaving chest. She frowns at the marrow stained bandages, slick with sweat and soiled magic, “This will only work with positive emotions and intent. I don’t want to kill him accidently with anger in my soul or in my intent.” Even her voice is softer, relaxed, and calm.

Lilith’s magic reaches out, seeking a broken, scared soul and pulls as gently as she can; Edge makes an aggressive noise when the scared, dim soul is summoned, pulled with the utmost care into the palm of her hand. Edge ignored by the mage, but it makes Sans jerk in surprise, and shifts to get between Lilith and any oncoming attack. His permanent grin pulls into something grim and angry, magic snapping at his fingers as warning.

Any aggressive movement is instantly stopped by Sin, sockets wide and shocked, as Lilith took Red’s soul in hand and held is so gently and whispers something that keeps Edge’s feet where they are and keeps him still next to his own team. 

“Well,” Sans’s nervous voice bring Lilith’s eyes to him briefly as they braced, and he gives her a small, brittle smirk before he goes back to watching Edge, “At least you’ve had practice?”

Lilith can’t help but snort at the words as she cradled the cold soul in her hands. Red’s soul was a spider web of pain and scars, a crack that was far too similar to the crack that was nearly healed in Sans’s soul and it made Lilith frown. It was calloused and heavy and throbbed in agony.

“I’m sure there’s a joke here, somewhere.” She muttered darkly, summoning her own soul. Around them the others go still, eyes widening at the sight of a healthy, lush determination soul full of power and magic. The all go still at seeing a human soul on display with no shame, the accumulation of her very being.

Sans snorted, “What, this cosmic bullshit isn’t enough for you?” he doesn’t sound bitter, almost amused and it helps Lilith relax a little more, reminds her that she’s safe because Sans is here. He won’t let anything bad happen to her while she tries to save Red. Sans will keep her safe when she’s vulnerable.

Lilith takes a breath and squares her shoulders, and as the other skeletons watch in shocked awe, doesn’t hesitate to press her soul to Red’s. Lilith winces, cringes inward but her hands are steady as she cradles their joined souls, as he latches on greedily, harder than Sans ever had and his soul drank deeply from hers, draining her of magic.

“Of course, he’s an asshole.” Lilith grits her teeth but doesn’t let up and allows Red’s soul to take its fill.

Sans snorts, but the effect is almost instant. Red’s body stops thrashing once it has enough magic for his body to sustain it’s being, stops that horrible choking noise and falls limp into the hard mattress, gasping brokenly. Sans cringes when he thinks of Felix having a blood bag and bag of magic hooked to his body when he had been caught in an explosion, hates the parallels that Lilith is essentially acting as a living blood bag to keep Red alive as he sucks back the magic as desperately as he can.

Lilith winces again as he tries to drain her of magic, his soul dry and greedy, soaking up any magic that Lilith is willing to give in easy to digest, soothing bits of magic. Slow and steady, not a waterfall of power that would break him.

The room is silent, the others shocked to silence as Lilith feeds magic back into Red’s soul the quickest way she can, and he stabilizes. Stunned by what they’re witnessing, the sheer _mercy_ that they were offering after everything that had happened in such a short time.

Why would anyone in their right mind help them? After all they had done, surely, they didn’t deserve this mercy, not offered willingly. They had to take everything by force because no one would help them, no one cared. No one every had.

Yet, Red sighs from the bed, his face softening as magic fills his body and stabilizes him. All the tenseness drains away, the trembling slows, and his body suddenly loosens to fall completely limp. Even unconscious, Red finds relief for the first time in days, still drawing magic from Lilith like a drowning man clinging to a life raft. She breaths through it, slow and deep through her nose while Sans keeps a watchful eye on the skeletons across the room.

It’s a slow thing, glacial in how gradually the color of Red’s soul begins to brighten, how the ruby comes back slowly almost as if someone is pouring life back into him. Maybe she is, slow and careful until his soul warms.

Lilith continues to breath slowly through her nose, eyes focused on their souls as she pours magic into his and when the warmth from his soul begins to deepen into something that touches Red’s core, Lilith begins to slowly untangle their souls. Red’s soul is almost desperate to cling to hers, drawing more magic as she pulled hers away, and Red managed to get the last few desperate sips of magic before Lilith pulled her soul away completely.

Lilith dismisses her soul quickly, bright crimson eyes glances to Nightmare, Glass and Sin, stunned and shocked, before she glances to Edge. Her face softened if only a little at the look of hurt, of vulnerability on his crumpled face. He looked so much, and yet nothing at all, like Papyrus. Hurt and lost, with his brother dying on the bed. His arm banded around broken ribs, and his breathing hitches painfully.

She drops her eyes; she can’t stand to watch him break. Not after what she had heard about them, about him, at what she had done. Instead, she focuses on Red’s soul. It’s cracked and broken, scared and Lilith can’t help but wonder what happened to cause this. Who did this to the harder, crueller version of her mate.

At least his soul’s full of magic, but already Lilith can see it dimming. She’s barely put a band aid on a bullet hole, and she knows his body will burn through what little she gave him in no time, but had been terrified to push anymore magic into his soul and to press in too deeply. Press too far into all that was Red, and invade where she wasn’t welcome, beyond the surface of his soul where he could suck up magic to his soul’s delight.

Red groans softly, making a wet, pained noise and Lilith doubts that he’ll survive another seizure like that. The thought makes her stomach twist and her vice rumble unhappily from its box, pressing outward against its cage.

She glances to Sans, whose looking stricken and pained, and Lilith is reminded that monsters are made of mercy. She is not and has to work hard at it, tries hard to do the right thing every day. Tries to make Sans proud and be a mate he _could_ be proud of.

Lilith frowns at the weak soul in her hands, even then, why had she done what she did? It doesn’t make sense, not for her, these skeletons are the enemy, she should have killed them. Why’d she hesitate? Why’d she help Red?

Red’s soul pulses painfully, begging for more magic and it feels heavy in Lilith’s hands; something hard bolts through Lilith, heavy like iron dropped into her belly. Angry and _protective._ It shakes her a little, startles her at the sudden sensation, and she pauses at the feeling.

What. The. Fuck?

Lilith gives herself a little shake, bringing herself back to the here and now, and the danger in the room. Instead, she carefully places Red’s soul back into his chest with the utmost care, allowing it to dissipate back into his body and that damned protective streak flashed through her.

Lilith blinks hard, her mind scrambling at the familiar feeling as her world suddenly recalibrated. Without the fighting, the threat, old magic clicked into place.

_Oh no._

Red is weak and vulnerable, laying limply on the bed with sweat beading down his skull.

_Oh no. Oh nonononono._

His sockets peel open for the first time in days, an eye light barely lit, diffused and a murky red. His voice slurred, words barely getting past his sharp teeth, “Paps?”

His throat is tight, and his words are thick, and it has Edge shoving past Sin and Glass to stumble to his brother. Lilith and Sans watch in horrified awe as Edge drops to his shattered knees to press his head into the edge of Red’s bed as his sockets slipped shut again with a sigh.

_Ohhhhhhhh no._

Edge makes a wet noise, thin and pained, despite the threat in the room. He’s too far gone, far too hurt to care. His bother is dying, and he’s been given a stay of execution, but for how long? Its all been too much, and Edge is falling apart at the seams just as readily as his brother.

Instinct is clawing at Lilith’s spine, demanding she _protect them_ and when she and Sans share a glance, she knows he feels it too. Feels his want to comfort, to reassure. To safeguard.

He feels the old magic, _ancient_ magic, slot into place, and Lilith needs to look away. There’s only one thing that can make her feel like that, that would affect Sans too, a sharp pull at her belly. Would force her to pull her punches and to _not_ kill when she should have.

_Oh Fate, please no._

Lilith tares her eyes away, even when Sans stares transfixed, so she can look at Glass, who is clinging to the girl in his arms with a pained grimace and knows she could tell him its’ going to be alright _._ To Sin, whose face is crumbled in grief and hurt, his yellow eyes dim on the ground, and knows she could make it alright. To Nightmare, who’s exhaustion she can see without the threat of death hanging over them and _knows_ she could make him take a nap and get some rest. He looks like he needs it.

Lilith takes a breath, eyes closing to help find steadiness, and tires not to curse aloud and look like a crazy person, because it’s _Den_ magic that is insisting, demanding, she care for them.

She’s a battle mage after all, that’s what she’s supposed to do, care for her Den. Tuck them in the centre of their safe pile and protect them, and instinct was furious that her Den is so, so hurt.

Breathing out through her nose, Lilith shoves it down hard and refuses to feel anything, she needs to be logical, she needs to get Sans to safety. When her eyes opened, they’re blood red, and she forces her face into an expression of anger. She is angry, furious at the situation. Furious that they could be this _stupid._

Mostly, she’s angry she didn’t feel the connection immediately, and knows this entire situation could have been avoided if she just calmed down, didn’t antagonise. She grits her teeth and knows it certainly would have helped had Edge not come with an attitude.

Sans is taking her by the elbow suddenly, his grin a little more tense, a little shakier at the edges, “You feel that right?”

Lilith softens at the look of her mate’s expression, her beloved, perfect mate and Lilith swallows, wonders what _wouldn’t_ she do to help Sans get better?

Would she kidnap a healer? In a heartbeat.

She suddenly needs to touch him, and no one is staring at them, too focused on Edge breaking apart and Red dying. Cupping his chin, she brushes her thumb over his cheek and Sans stretches up for another kiss.

“Stay close.” Lilith mutters against his teeth, and Sans snorts, already having an idea of what she’s going to do.

“Don’t get stabbed.” Sans pleads, his skeletal hand grasping at the bottom of her chest plate and Lilith gives him a soft smile that’s only for him.

It’s short lived, and the hard look returns, and Sans lets go of her chest plate as Lilith turns on the balls of her feet; she’s all sharp edges again, and cold rage. Looking ready to kill if need be, but her soul twists at the thought now.

Sans sticks close to her back as she storms back the way they came, her voice cold when she hisses out “I need to talk to you.” As her hand shoots out like a snake to grasp the front of Sins shirt as the other grabs the back of Nightmare’s sweater before either could react, her hands fisting into their clothing tightly.

She hauls them both out of the room by their shirts, and Sans is amused by their stunned faces and the sudden obedience, leaving Glass in the room with Edge, looking torn between coming after them and safeguarding the sick.

He’s all but ignored as they march out of the sick ward, Lilith all cold fury keeping them quiet and she doesn’t let them go until they are away from the sick room. Sans glances around, sees the destruction around them and cringes at the brokenness of it all.

“What the _fuck_ where you thinking!” She hisses at them as she lets them go with a little shove to put distance between them.

Sans is by her side instantly, his easy-going smirk back in its place, all nonchalant and a nonthreat as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, magic sparking at his hidden fingers. Sin and Nightmare share a glance, and Nightmare’s face clouds in anger, “Who do you…”

He’s steam rolled by Lilith’s anger, “This is not how you ask for help!” she spits, fury building, and Nightmare looks offended by her interruption.

“Who do you think you…” Nightmare starts, but he’s hurt and weak, and Lilith is louder.

“You are so bad at this!” she hisses, sounding almost in awe of it all, the sheer audacity, “Seriously. What the fuck.” She jabs an angry finger towards the sick war, vicious and furious, “Did you just fucking see that? How long as he been like that? How little magic does he have that he can barely hold it together?”

Sin scrunches down, trying to make himself smaller in pain, less of a target, his arm banded around his ribs as Nightmare fluffs up, trying to make him look bigger. His mouth parts in a horrifying snarl, his teeth are sharp and almost like shadows, his voice is like nails on a chalk board, “ _Would you have helped us?_ ”

Lilith ignores his anger, her face turning ice cold, but her words are honest, “I don’t know, but your first instinct isn’t fucking kidnapping!” she throws her hands up, annoyed and frustrated, “That’s like plan three. Maybe even four, not your first fucking idea!” 

Nightmare’s mouth opens, ready to spew angry words when Sans rolls his eyes, “Okay stop. This isn’t helping.” He snaps at both of them, drawing both of their eyes to him, “This isn’t.” he insisted, “What do you want?”

For a moment, Nightmare falters, uncertain as to what wants to say, doesn’t know how to ask for help in a way that isn’t force, and his mouth closes slowly as his fangs flatten back into blunt teeth.

“We need help.” Sin’s voice is soft and hurt, pain threading through it like all the others, is starting to eat away at his magic and he feels sick. He glances to the sick room and can see Edge, still on his knees, his head against his brother’s bed. His unbroken arm wrapped around his shattered ribs and Sin swallows back his pride, “Please. Help us.”

Lilith blinks at them, softening at the raw pleading that Nightmare isn’t capable of; his face is cold and hard, but his knees are trembling.

_He needs to sleep._ The thought is unwanted and intrusive, and Lilith shoves it down again. Sans needs her to get them out of here, he must be the priority.

“We can’t.” it’s Sans who speaks fist, his words cold and hard, that breaks through the tension, and Sin draws further into himself. His world is imploding, everyone is dying, and he _hurts_ so much.

“Why not?” Nightmare hisses, and his knees tremble.

Lilith and Sans share a look, and it’s again Sans’s slow voice that answers, “If we help you, that’ll align us with you. Any conflict in the multiverse would side us with you.”

Sin deflates, and Nightmare snarls, “So your cowards. Afraid of my brother and his flaky little friend then!”

Anger flickers back into Lilith, her eyes blazing with cold fury at his words, but she stops her building tirade when there’s another wet, low sound from the sick room.

They all look back to the sick room, afraid and worried, and Red is making another horrible wet noise. It makes them cringe and knocks Lilith away from her anger again. Sans sighs, shaking his head to look down. There’s that horrible tug at his chest, like gravity magic used in reverse, heavy and tight, “We need to talk to the others.” Sans said firmly.

It’s like someone blew a little life into Sin, and he brightens a little and Nightmare looks weary. Eye narrowed, he asks, “Why?”

Heaving a sigh, Sans looks back to the sick room, where the others are all dying and feels his soul twinge in pain. It’s Lilith who says softly, “Because helping you means going to war, and we can’t make that call on our own.”

Confusion ripples through Nightmare, and Sin doesn’t dare hope, “You’re going to help us?”

Lilith heaved a sigh, dreading her next words but finds it easier when Sans reaches for her hand and links their fingers, “I’m going to put it to a vote.”

Nightmare feels _something_ squeeze his broken soul, and he doesn’t dare believe them, doesn't think his soul can take the heart break if they're lying.


	4. Cutting a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloan and Nightmare cut a deal. No one is happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all staying safe in these uncertain times. 
> 
> We finally get to see how the others react to finding out about their new Den mates and how they handle that new bit of information. It did take me a bit longer to get this chapter out, but I've been working hard on Chapters 5 and 6, which were supposed to be one chapter. I've had to break it in half since it was getting to be too long, and it has a better narrative this way. 
> 
> In the mean time, enjoy chapter 4! 
> 
> No warnings that I can think of at the movement, but if I've missed something let me know.

Everyone was reacting how Lilith assumed they would; she would have put good money on each and everyone of them and an educated guess on how they would respond when such a threat was brought to their shores. A shame that Sans was the only one she could have placed bets with, and he would have leaned the same direction as she did.

Nightmare had let them go with a promise, a _threat_ really, to come back in twenty, very short, minutes for their answer, and Lilith tried not to think of the dying hope she had seen in him. It left Lilith feeling worried and nauseous, afraid that she’d come back to a pile of dust on Red’s bed and a heart broken child.

She thought of Edge, broken by her hands, alone without his brother, crumbling inwards to ash to leave their kid alone in a frightening world with frightening skeletons who were equally broken. It didn’t sit well with Lilith, it seemed the universe would be less without them, wrong and off kilter, and no doubt it was Den magic that was tugging at her soul and demanded she act. Den magic that made her think like this, made her want to go back and protect a group of monsters that she didn’t know, a group of monsters who clearly had never asked for help, _ever_ , to be this bad at it.

Fuck, had they sent Sugar or one of the girls, the Den would have been tripping over each other to be the first to help. Fighting amongst each other to be the first to provide aid and care.

They hadn’t, and Nightmare had tried to use force that failed spectacularly. It didn’t sit well with any of the Den, not when they hadn’t seen what she and Sans had seen, and they didn’t have much time. They needed to make a decision, and they needed to make it together.

“Absoluty- _fucking_ -not!” Felix sneers, his eyes molten gold after Lilith had gone though the brief recounting of what transpired on the other side of the cold, dark portal. The fight between Lilith and the others, how hurt they all actually were, how brutalized, and the Den magic that slotted into place. “They’re killers.” Felix hissed, thumbing at the handle of his axe, not giving a damn if they were Den mates or not.

They took Lilith and Sans, and they were dead men walking as far as Felix was concerned.

Lilith rolled her eyes so hard that Felix could seethe whites of her eyes, “Hello pot, I’m kettle.”

“That’s different!” he hissed back at his sister, the face of the demon flicking over his, rare anger at his sister rising like an angry wave.

Frisk cringed behind Papyrus, squeezing his hand and feeling relief wash over her when he squeezed her hand back. It wasn’t often that Lilith and Felix weren’t on the same page at everything, rarer still when they fought, and when they did, it was often vicious.

“How?” Lilith sneered back at him, her own eyes deepening to the shade of blood.

“We didn’t kill innocent people! We didn’t end worlds.” Felix hissed back at her.

Lilith pushed her shoulders back and stood a little straighter in an effort to look taller, “Debatable.” Her cold, monotone voice gave nothing away, but Sans could feel the anger leeching from her in thick, heavy waves.

Felix hissed, his eyes flooding black as his vice bubbled over, “They’re a threat.” _To our soft ones, our people,_ is what Felix doesn’t say, but it doesn’t go unheard by the Den, “Let them die.”

“Felix.” Lilith relaxes at Lola’s voice, just as hard, but not unkind despite the worried furrow of her brow, “We can’t just let them die.” It was no surprise that Lola wanted to help, not with a kindness soul pulsing strong in her chest, firmly in Lilith and Sans’s camp of save them, and it helps settle Lilith a little.

Agitated, Lilith licks at her teeth as her body loosens, eyes the color of blood narrowed on her brother whose glaring at her just as hotly, arms crossed over his chest.

Papyrus quickly nods agreement, takes the momentary swell of silence to chime in, “Lola is right Felix.” His voice is soft but with a steel core that leaves no room for argument, “We need to try. And. And maybe we can help them see that they don’t need to be bad guys. Maybe we can show them a better way, while they’re here.”

Felix groaned, frustration building as he scrubbed his hand over his face, “Oh fucking fates. Paps, I love you, I do. But these guys are killers. There’s no saving them. Fuck, one of them killed his own brother, killed _you_.”

Papyrus nods, grim but determined, tries not to glance down at the child who clings to his hand and doesn’t think of how his throat itches, “Maybe. But has anyone tried to save them?” he asks quietly.

Felix groans, eyes rolling hard, and Lilith pipes in before he can snap at Papyrus, “We saved you Felix, and I distinctly remember having this _same_ conversation with our Coven leaders.”

Felix jerks back as though he’s been struck, looking stricken and hurt, “That’s not fair.” His voice is small and brittle, the shock of her words knocking him away from the killing edge enough for magic to drain from his eyes.

Lilith softens a little, instinct crying out to protect her own, to gentle her approach even as her heart ache’s, “But it’s the truth.” And his face crumples a little with hurt at her words.

“Felix is right.” Undyne jumps in before the battle mages can get riled up again, Felix still looking hurt at his sister’s words, “It’s too dangerous.”

The Den falls quiet again, looking at either their shoes or the sky with bitter resentment or frustrated anger, and Undyne sighs, “Ryder, what do you think?”

The massive mage sighs as all members of his Den look up at him, and he rubs at his chest when each and everyone expect that he’ll side with them. Someone’s going to be disappointed, someone’s going to be mad or hurt, but at the end of it, even as his soul throbs in hurt, he needs to do the right thing. He knows it’s the right thing when his bravery soul hums in agreement; he knows doing the right thing isn’t always the easy thing, and the swelling of uncertainty doesn’t make the decision any easier.

He picks his words carefully, speaking slowly, “I agree that, yes, they are dangerous.” Undyne looks pleased, even as Papyrus looks crestfallen and that makes his soul pulse in hurt, “But so are we. This isn’t a power imbalance. We aren’t some helpless newly formed Den without proper Den magic binding us all together. If anything, the power imbalance would tip in our favor. We’re healthy and at full strength. If what Lilith and Sans saw is to be believed, they’re dying, slowly. And well,” he hesitates before adding, “if they are Den mates, _real_ Den mates, we can’t just let them die.”

Undyne sighs, and Felix pulls in on himself knowing he’s lost the battle. He looks sour and moody, mouth pursed in annoyance, but knows he lost the war while Papyrus’s smile is a ray of joy, a balm to Ryder’s soul. It makes Ryder go bright red as he takes Papyrus’s hand, linking their fingers and giving him a little squeeze. Papyrus beams up at Ryder, bright and proud, and any indecision that lingers in Ryder’s soul is soothed away, confident in his decision.

“We’ll have to go to war.” Undyne spat, her anger drawing everyone’s attention, eye narrowed with annoyance, “Are we prepared to fight Dream and his little friends for these assholes?”

“We don’t necessarily need to fight anyone.” Sloan said suddenly, azure eyes finally lifting from the sopping ground, mouth pulled into a grim line, “There is absolutely no reason to not stay neutral in multiverse conflicts. We assisted Dream when he needed help, there is no reason not to assist this,” she pauses rolling her hand on her wrist, “, this doom and gloom crew. Besides, we are missing a very important factor here.”

“Yeah,” Felix sounds bitter and angry, his eyes dark storm clouds as the gold swells again, “What’s that?”

“If we agree to assist them, they will owe us. We help them, sure, but in return they leave our universe alone.” Sloan says easily, words smooth that make Lola shift uncomfortably.

“Sloan, that’s black mail.” Lola says softly, frowning at her taller sister, voice hesitant. This went against everything that she stood for, when against her kindness soul nature.

“No, its payment. We will help them, protect them and care for them. But when its time for them to leave, they don’t hurt our universe. They don’t bring war here. They don’t bring their multiverse bull shit back with them. When Nightmare decides that it’s time for them to go, they don’t pick a fight with us.”

“That’s a lot of trust to put into them to keep their end of the bargain” Felix hisses, agitation sparking.

It triggers Lilith’s own aggression, and she growls back at her brother, “They’re Den mates.”

Felix’s mouth curls into a snarl, hating fighting with his sister, hating how he feels, hates that this is a horrible idea, hates how these monsters were Den mates. Why’d it have to be them after they searched for so long for Den mates.

Sloan smiles, but its bitter and sharp enough to cut, “They won’t understand what being our Den means. They won’t care, and it’s meaningless to try to explain it to them. We just need to get them through this rough patch and get them back onto their feet.” Sloan pauses, letting the idea roll around in bitter minds and angry personalities to let the harsh reality settle. She knows what she says is blasphemy to mages, to turn their backs on Den mates and not even try, but Nightmare would only use them for his own gain and Sloan won’t see her people hurt. She won’t see them betrayed by someone who doesn’t have the capacity to care.

She takes a breath, her words soft, “They will be held to the same standards of our deal if I bind them and us to the pact. It’s a simple spell with devastating effect. They too, need to place trust into us, and they’re vulnerable, hurt and weak. We could do literally anything we want to them, and they are helpless to stop us. This will ensure compliance from both parties.” She tries not to let her eyes flick to Felix, Lilith has done enough to curb his anger with bitter words and the truth; they need everyone to be on board for this to work. He doesn’t need to be kicked while he’s down.

The Den pauses as one, mulling it over, angry and bitter about the whole thing, cursing Fate. Who else would be so cruel to finally give them Den mates they can’t keep.

Lola’s shoulders fall a little, her face pulling into a frown of hurt and soul deep sadness, “Well, at least we can have them for a little while.” She says softly, saying the words the others are thinking even deep down in their souls.

Undyne sighs, hands going to her hips as she kicks a rock, “Ah fuck, we’re doing this aren’t we?”

Sloan smile changes, brightening into something dark and sharp to hide her own disappointment at the situation. How unfair it all was, her voice a forced perky happiness as if the were talking about something pleasant, “Do we have any other objections?”

There are none, and all they can do is wait for Nightmare to come back. It does nothing to curb the hurt in their souls, it does nothing to douse the bitter resentment that they couldn’t keep their Den mates. Not this time, and if feels like they’ve been kicked square in the chest.

-

Sans had counted on how his Den of mages would react when he and Lilith were returned, mostly unharmed, and he could count on their reactions now that they stepped slowly through the portal and into Nightmare’s realm.

Glancing to the edges of their tight knot to Lilith and Felix; they’re loose and ready for a fight at the sides of the group. Any hint of their disagreement has been put on hold and hidden away, keeping the Den safe as gold and crimson eyes glanced around for any threat. They’re in heavy armor that shines obsidian, everything about them screaming threat as they move with a fluid grace that only well-trained warriors have.

Sans took a breath to steady himself, spotting Lilith give Felix a look when they stepped through the portal and they were hit by the smell of blood and fear. It’s thick and heavy, and Lilith shot her brother a brief, deep frown before the cold hardness returned to her face; Sans watched Felix shift uncomfortably, gold eyes glancing around with growing concern as the reality hit him, his hands balling into fists. He shifted side to side, eyes glancing to the pool of dirty light from the sick ward, frown deepening at the wet cough that echoed eerily from the room, torn between wanting to help and letting them die.

Movement from the corner of his socket drew Sans’s attention behind them, to where Undyne shifted nervously at their backs, a spear firmly in her hand as she glowered at the group. Her mouth pulled into a tight line of irritation, and Sans can see how she’s affected by the suffering as well; it hurts to see it, different to taste the marrow in the air at the back of your throat. A harder experience to see this suffering firsthand then to hear about it.

Before them, in their own tight knot, Nightmare glowered up at them, and Sans can see how much worse he already looks in the short time they’ve been gone; Glass and Sin flanking him, broken and in pain, trying to stay up right to protect their own when no one else could. Between them, Nightmare’s knees trembled, and his tentacles pooling weakly at the ground, but he managed to glower up at the mages as they came through the portal. Spine strain with his hands behind him, clamped firmly at his lower back and grim faced. Sans was impressed, despite his frown, that Nightmare managed to stand tall, spine ramrod straight, like the King he thought he was.

White eye lights glanced to Nightmare’s body guards at each side of him, and Sans again feels his soul press inward with guilt; Sin still had an arm wrapped around his ribs as he stood with Nightmare, panting softly in pain, looking tired; Glass stood still and angry, bruised from the vicious elbow he had taken to the face, dark around his sockets.

A sharp gasp draws Sans’s sockets away from the skeletons, head snapping to Lola in a sharp spike of anxiety to where she stood between Ryder and Papyrus, hand over her mouth in open shock at the smell that wafted from the sick ward. Sans felt his shoulders drop as she struggled to peek into the sick ward before she tried to move towards it, her face crumpled into empathetic pain. Sans can only imagine what it’s like for her, a war hardened but still a soft, kind souled shield mage who protected the Den in different ways. Sans can only frown when Papyrus and Ryder each grab for an elbow to pull her back and she makes a weak, wet noise as they stall her, their heads shaking no as Sloan took a position at the very front.

Sloan, the better negotiator of the group, held her delicate hand up to stall her sister, her voice soft “Wait.”

There’s a moment, when Nightmare lazily looks up at the tall spell caster with a half lidded azure eye light, and Sloan gives him an unimpressed glower that makes Sans squirm. The tension bubbles between them, cold and stilted, as they glared at each other, and Sans can see the battle mages shifting uncomfortably, waiting for something to happen.

“So,” Nightmare spoke first, sending a nervous shudder down Sans’s spine, his voice soft, like leaves over pavement, “You’re the leader?”

Sloan snorts like she’s been accused of something horrific, her hands planting onto her hips, sifting her stance so she stands square on with Nightmare, “Hardly.” She sneers at him, her lip curling in faux disgust to hide her hurt when she feels it, feels Den magic click in her soul like a missing key in an old lock and she buries her hurt over the whole situation. She hates their pain, she hates that they can’t keep them. 

Dark eyes glancing to the broken door with the sodium yellow light leaking through and her heart hurts in indescribable ways, but she doesn’t let them see it. Her eyes glance to the two at Nightmare’s sides, eyes lingering on Sin and knows her sisters handy work when she sees it, “I’m the better negotiator.” She tells them with a cool tone that bordered on cold boredom.

The tentacles at on the floor rattle with irritation, and Nightmare sneers back at her, his grin cruel and sharp, “Cute.” Voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Sloan focuses on him, tilted her head, unafraid and dismissive, “I thought so.” Her smile is just as cruel and sharp, she knows that she can’t show weakness to him, that this will only be dragged out and turn violent if Nightmare thinks he can walk all over her, “However, we aren’t the ones asking for help, now are we?”

The faux calmness from Nightmare fades as he snarls at her, aqua eye light narrowing at her as his teeth grit. Sloan flashes him a triumphant grin, even when her stomach drops, “Or should I say begging?” the aggressive stance apart of a carefully constructed image. If this is too work, they can not be push overs.

Nightmare hisses at her, and her audacity, knows he’s too weak and hurt to give a proper fight, his head feels fuzzy and sick, and he’d do terrible things to just be able to _sleep_. Just a little while, just to rest is eyes and get the room to stop spinning.

Sloan grins, knows she’s on the verge on rattling him to his core, knows she’s getting under his skin, “I bet your really pretty when you beg.” It’s said so lightly, so conversationally, that Sloan almost wonders if he’ll miss it.

Glass growls as his sockets narrow, eye lights guttering out; Sin’s mouth falls open in shock as Nightmare’s eye brightens like a dying star. His mouth parts in that horrifying snarl, like shadows from nightmares and his tentacles rear back like snakes poised to strike. They reform from soft, blunted ends, to needle like sharpness as he hisses at Sloan.

Magic sparks at the spell casters fingers and her smirk is cruel despite the pang in her soul begging her to stop, to go easy. Her heart, her soul wants to help him but that doesn’t stop her eyes going azure, despite the feeling of her stomach dropping, she doesn’t want to hurt him.

At her sides the battle mages tense for a fight, hands going to weapons as they shift their centre of gravity to better fight; light flashes through Nightmare’s body, hundreds of small pools of light trapped within the dark magic of his body burn through him suddenly.

Any retort, sarcastic and cutting, is swallowed back with his cry of pain, leaving him gurgling and choking as his knees gave out from under him. Nightmare hits the ground painfully, light magic burning through him, the pools of light shining hotly in his body drawing laboured, agonized huffs of breath that make everyone still. They can only watch, helpless, as he lays curled into a pitiful ball of agony, formed claws scraping into the stone floor, leaving thick gouges in the rough surface as Nightmare tries to brace for the waves of pain.

Sin hisses as Glass steps forward to help his boss up, but he’s waved off with a trembling hand as the light subsides back to a dull ache all over his body. Slowly, painfully, Nightmare pushes himself back to his feet, breathing hitching with pain, unsteady, and only then does Sloan’s face soften a little. Around her, she can feel the Den wanting to reach out, to reassure and comfort, they want to protect him but they stay where they are and Sloan couldn’t be prouder.

He’s swaying and unsteady, his everything hurt, and his tentacles droop low enough that they touch the ground to steady him and all fury and attitude is gone in face of his pain.

Nightmare swallows once, twice, his throat clicking with dryness, “Is that what you want?” his throat is feels like its on fire, his voice full of hurt and sarcasm, but his people are dying. If begging got them what they needed, then what matter was his pride?

It’s not like he could actually get any lower, now could he? It wasn’t like his pride wasn’t already in tatters, it wasn’t like _he_ was in ruins, only way this could be worse if his snooty brother was here to lord his failure over his head. His people were dying, he was dying with all that light magic buried inside his body. Really, how much further could he fall?

How far was he willing to fall to save his own? If the pretty mage wanted him to beg, why the fuck not.

Glass growls from behind, puffing up at Nightmare’s back, but he’s held in place with a quick flick of Nightmare’s hand to keep him back; Nightmare’s tired beyond words, he just wants to sleep and he can’t stop himself from lowering his eye to his feet in defeat. He’s got nothing left to give.

Sloan watches him carefully, that soft look hardening to hide her hurt, her mask back in place firmly, her face pinching like she bit into a lemon, and he refuses to squirm. He’ll beg if they want him too, prepared to if it’s what she wants, if it guarantees their safety.

He wonders what humiliation tastes like.

“No.” Sloan says slowly, and the magic slowly dissipates from her fingers as she slowly releases her hold on her power, and Nightmare startles. He looks up at her slowly with distrust, and there’s something in her eyes that makes Nightmare uneasy. It’s not pity, but it’s something soft that he inherently dislikes.

“We have deal.” Sloan tells him sharply as her hands move to clasp in front of her, business like, and any mocking is gone from her voice as she refocuses and shifts tactics. She doesn’t need to be cruel, she’s made her point; they couldn’t offer up a fight if they tried, and she sees it now more then ever, “We will care for yours. Heal them, nurse you all back to health,” her dark eyes glance to the two at his back before her gaze comes back to him, “Ensure that no one will harm you.”

“And in return?” he asks slowly, eye narrowed, because they aren’t stupid enough to do this without wanting something in return. No one helps for free.

“And in return, when you are all well enough to _leave_ , you will leave our universe alone. No multiverse bull shit, no waging war on us, you will leave us alone. You will not destroy our home.” Her voice is hard, her eyes like chip of granite and she prays to every god and Fate herself that he’ll agree.

She wants him to say yes, they just want to help them, just get them through this.

Nightmare gives her a smug look, cruel and daring her to say anything else, “And how do you plan on holding us, _me_ , to that deal?” his head tilts, despite his own exhaustion, “I’m very curious how you think to uphold this _deal_ of yours.”

Sloan’s head tilts the other way, her smile growing as her soul sooths. They’re talking at least, “Magic.” And she wriggles her fingers at him, back to mocking and unafraid.

Nightmare frowns at her, annoyed and tired. Sloan straightens, looking smug but her voice is calm, “We use a binding spell.” She glances first to Lilith, whose face is blank and eyes watchful, then to Felix, whose smug and all teeth before turning her attention to Nightmare, “We agree to the terms of engagement, one representative from each party agrees to the bond, and it will affect my entire Den, and your entire,” she pauses, giving a wave over at Nightmare and the sick ward, “crew. Gang. Whatever you are.”

Nightmare glowered at her, his teeth gritted, “Gang.”

Sloan nods, “Sure. Gang.”

“And, pray tell, what happens to anyone who turns traitor?” Nightmare sounds tired, annoyed, and his soul feels heavy with dread. It’s becoming his most common emotion, and it’s one he doesn’t care for.

The mage smiles pleasantly, and Nightmare is sure it’s her being sarcastic, “You’ll burn in fire.” 

From her left, Felix laughed, loud and mocking, and inwardly Sloan cringes. Of course, he laughs, the brat, but she doesn’t let her irritation show on her face. Just as they need to not show weakness to this group, its equally as important to show a united front. Nightmare will not be able to come at them sideways and break them apart.

Nightmare’s brow furrowed, not understanding, and Sloan’s next words only confused him further, a feeling he disliked immensely. “Yes, so I expect you to behave Felix.” It makes Felix grin darkly, nodding along with his sister’s words.

“I don’t,” he pauses glancing at the mages who have made themselves a wall to their universe and the medic behind them, “I don’t understand.”

Felix opens him mouth; his grin wide, but falls quiet at the wet, hurt sound coming from the sick ward, it’s loud in the room, eery and a reminder why they were all here.

Sloan feels her heart ache, can feel it from the others, even as the noise makes Lola go tense between Ryder and Papyrus, her eyes going to the sick ward with her mouth pulled into a hard line, “The offenders burst into flames.” She snaps, her eyes turning to emeralds, “Can we hurry this up?” her eyes kept glancing to the room, where the sounds of coughing could be heard, the smell awful and full of sickness.

“Wait.” Sin said slowly from Nightmare’s back, wincing with the soft words when he speaks, “You mean, like, literally bust into flames? Like. Just.” He gave a shrug, and rolled his hand, “Like fire.”

Felix laughed from where he stood, his hand lifting to mimic a mike drop, whispering, “Foosh.”, and Sloan refuses to react to her brother’s explanation. It’s as effective as anyone else’s.

Nightmare sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyes. He was tired and in a great deal of pain and dealing with stupid mages and their stupid plan was not what he had in mind, “So, if we betray you.”

“Any of you.” Sloan agreed.

“Any of us betray you, and the _offender_ will spontaneously combust?”

“That’s right.” Sloan’s voice was soft and sing-song as she relaxed, and Nightmare hated it immediately, “Same goes for us. We are both upheld to the same standards.”

Azure magic swirls softly around her hand, curling through her fingers like smoke, “Better then begging?”

Glaring at the offered hand, caught between a rock and a hard place, Nightmare snarls, “That’s debatable.” Then he wraps his hand around the slim, delicate looking hand, that Sloan offered him. It’s soft and warm, full of magic that has him wincing at the feeling of magic crackling through his body, and into his soul.

The same blue magic appeared at the souls of each of the mages, crackling at their hands and trailing up to their arms to worm its way into their souls as Sloan smiles at him. It’s sharp, but there’s something a little softer about it that Nightmare doesn’t have the language anymore to translate, “Maybe, but I still bet your pretty as hell begging.” 

He frowns at her, not sure if she’s making fun of him as the same magic spread through the monsters among their numbers, and Sin and Glass winced as it crawled up their bones. A yelp from the sick ward told them that the others were experiencing it as well, the spell settling into their bodies firmly.

“That’s it?” Nightmare asked as Sloan uncurled her hand from his, the delicate looking hand finding her hip.

“That’s it.” She agreed with a smile, “We’re bound to the deal now.” Her body relaxes, languid and lose, and it annoys him how easy around him she has suddenly made herself. Like he still wasn’t a threat.

Nightmare glared up at her, opened his mouth to snarl up at her when the soft little healer shoved her way through the centre of her Den’s pack, “Yeah, that’s great.” She glides to the sick ward, pausing only to give Sin a once over before she pointed a delicate finger at him, even as he towered over her tiny frame, “Sloan, get his ass into a bed.”

Sin managed to grin through the pain, but any sarcastic remark about getting him into a bed without dinner first were quickly cut off when Sloan nodded passively to her sister, “Of course Lols. I’ll make sure he gets some rest.”

The shield maiden called over her should, “Do that.” Before she slipped into the sick ward, freezing at the door. Her kindness soul pulsed with pain at what she found, her mouth falling open and her fingers pressed against her lips again. “Oh, Fate behold me.” She whispered, her face crumpling at the suffering in that tight, cramped room.

“Lilith.” The hurt that twisted her face faded quickly, disappearing from one breath to another, and the tone of her voice, the hardness made Lilith straighten up. She went ram rod straight, her shoulders going back at the tone of her sister’s voice, crimson eyes glancing to Sans before they found her sisters.

“Yeah?” her voice was smooth and monotone.

“You said they were dying.” There was an edge to Lola’s voice, something hard and growing anger that made everyone tense.

“They are?” Lilith said slowly, not fully grasping why her sister was so angry.

Lola backed away from the sick ward, licking her lips before she marched back to the knot of mages and monsters, “They’ve been fucking tortured.” She hissed.

“Well, they are injured.” Sans added from where he was standing, drawing Lola’s rarely sparked irritation.

She shook her head at him, choosing to ignore him, glancing between Sloan and Nightmare, “We can’t carry them that far.” she nods towards the front yard, the cold, muddy grass they would have to slog through, the risk of slipping too great, “We are not carrying them up the stairs.”

She turns briskly to Nightmare as Sloan relaxes, letting her sister take point, “You can create portals?” he nods slowly, “Good. We need to open one directly to the infirmary. How do we do that?” 

“Easiest way would be to do it from the room itself.” He tells her slowly, this throat hurts and when he rubs at it, he can feel the sharp tip of a shard.

Lola frowns at him, he sees her hands twitch as if to touch, but he knows he’s on the low end of the priority list, “Good,” emerald eyes swing to Sans, “Sans, take Nightmare to the infirmary, then you,” she pointed at the corrupted monster, “Open a new portal. Get gone.” And Nightmare is stunned by her audacity.

Lilith made a noise at the back her throat, gravelly and unhappy, even as Nightmare opened his mouth to argue; but the shield mage had already turned away, grabbing her fierce battle mage sister by the elbow to drag her along, “Come on,” Lola snapped, “If he hurts Sans, he’ll light on fire.”

Nightmare watched them go, the Den obeying Lola’s words even as Lilith muttered, “Yeah, and he’ll hope to die if he hurts Sans.”

Crimson eyes met white eye lights, and Sans gave her a small wave as she was dragged along. He found Nightmare’s glower, and gave him a cheeky grin, “Ready?”

Rolling his eye, Nightmare walked through the portal and into the mage’s world. It’s warm and clean, and the positivity pulses through his frame and makes him feel just a little sicker, “I’m going to hate everything about this.”

Sans chuckled, tossing an arm over dark, damp shoulders, “Oh, you have no idea pal.” And shortcutted them to the infirmary.”


	5. The First Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare's bad day gets a little bit worse, before it arguably gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all staying safe out there and having a wonderful Sunday. New chapter today, this one does have warnings. So please take a moment to read the warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> I have done a bit of a time jump from when the deal was struck to when the mages have the skeletons in their home. Originally I had been planning two chapters on the move, but it just wouldn't come out and was way too messy. So, for a better narrative, I've jumped ahead. A lot of the two chapters that had been written out, have been recycled here. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: Description of injuries, broken bones, mild description of torture (nothing overly graphic) and a description of a seizure.

Standing in the centre of all the chaos, surrounded by marrow and spent magic, the horror around them, Lola feels oddly calm and serene; in a horrible, gut turning way it almost feels nostalgic. Like those days in the war, after brutal battles when battle mages who were unfortunate enough to lack the healing trait were retuned to the camps broken and dying. When healers worked overtime and nearly brunt themselves out trying to save the dying, when healing magic was sunk into broken bodies with a hope and a prayer that it was enough to put them back together and it wasn’t too late. When powerful healers would nearly kill themselves when pouring all their magic into the recently deceased hoping to bring them back, draining their wells of magic to dangerously low levels for the chance. Few succeeded, and those who did became stories of legend that younger generations didn’t believe; those who did either broke completely, unable to pull at the magic they could once wield as easily as breathing or became one with their magic. There was no in between for those rare healers, and Lola had seen both. 

At least her bothers and sisters weren’t out on the field looking for survivors and bringing home the dead, they were beside her, following short, quick orders that she barked out at them in a soft voice, jumping to do as they’re told. 

Around her, the infirmary is oddly quiet as Felix, sour faced, carries the last one through the portal; Felix looks torn between being annoyed and concerned, his face pinched and lips pursed, but he’s utterly careful as he lays Wine down, gentling the leg that’s bent the wrong way.

On the cot next to Wine, Coffee whines softly, squeezing Hope tightly to his side, and Lola feels a swell of relief when that cold, bitter look softens into something like concern on Felix’s hansom face. Lola knows her brother, knows it’s hard for him to care for anyone outside the Den, hell, Lola would put money on that his care doesn’t extend past the Den and into the Coven. Any protection he offered to the Coven was limited to what he had to do, ordered to do and he would cheerfully throw it all out the window for the Den.

Yet, these were Den mates, theirs and Nightmare’s crew belonged to them whether they knew it or not and Felix was struggling. It had been only them for so long, just the five of them together; then the monsters showed up, and any apprehension Felix may have had was soothed away by Lilith’s love of Sans. It helped Felix accept them into the fold, because his big sister accepted them, loved them, then that meant it was safe for Felix to get attached to. Their monsters wouldn’t betray them, they wouldn’t use them or be afraid of them.

Nightmare’s group was different.

With a heavy sigh, Felix glances to his sister, and Lola give him a small grin, nodding towards Wine and Coffee, prompting an eye roll from her brother and a huffy, moody sigh. Lola feels a spark of amusement despite the horror around her at seeing her fierce battle mage brother acting like a moody teenager.

Still, Felix turns to gather supplies under her watchful gaze; stuffing healing gauze on a little trolly along side bandages, antibacterial soap and water without having to be told twice, doing as he was told while the portal at their back’s snaps shut.

Lola breaths a sigh of relief, feels Den magic humming heavily in the room and knows the skeletons can’t feel it like they do and even if they can, they don’t know what it means. Maybe preferable all things considering, even if it makes Lola’s soft green soul dim with sadness.

Pulling her glossy black hair from her face and into a ponytail, Lola square’s her shoulder and looks back to her own patient; around her, her brothers and sister have their orders, know what they need to, and which set of brother’s were who’s responsibility. It was going to be slow going, they have to be careful if they want to get out of this maintaining any sense of trust with Nightmare and his little Doom and Gloom crew.

They’re dangerous sure, Lola doesn’t dispute it, but they’re hurt and vulnerable, likely something they haven’t been before; she glances back to Felix with a tinge of worry sparking in her soul, and knows if they’re like battle mages, they wont take to being sick and hurt very well. Battle mages, at least, tended to be terrible patience unless they were near dying.

With a glance around the room, making sure that no one is over their head or having trouble, but so far so good, Lola gives herself a little nod. The skeletons have been quite and compliant, any one awake doing as their told as the were quietly carried over the threshold.

Green eyes glance to Lilith in the corner, where she and Sans are setting what they need up for Edge and Red with quick, precise movement, Mercy watching them sourly as they did so. Next to them, Sloan is getting the last of what she needed for Nightmare, it was going to take them likely weeks to pull all the shards out and opening the new portal to the infirmary had taken more out of him then he likely wanted to admit. Even from where she’s standing, Lola can see it in the way he’s slouching, the way his eye dims and his shoulders drop with exhaustion.

With a deep sigh to settle herself, Lola turns to the other side of the room, where Felix has almost got what he needs for Coffee and Wine, and beside him, Ryder and Papyrus get the last of their things to look after Gore and Sugar.

With a frown tugging at her mouth, she glances to Crow, sitting with his head down, his hand looped loosely around Gore’s ankle, like he’s afraid that Gore will escape without him noticing. She feels uneasy with that one, Crow has been broken in ways that she can’t describe, and it makes him unpredictable. More likely to hurt one of the others without realizing it. Or, maybe he would, if Dream’s stories were to be believed.

Lola glances around the room with a nervous frown, flexes her hands and wonders how much of what they heard had been truth and did Dream even know about the children? Or Sugar? Did he even care?

Straitening her spine, Lola dusted off her hands, deciding that she didn’t particularly care and knew she could do some good here; she turns for her own patient, nearly walking face first into the hard rib cage of Glass, and she’s nearly tipped off balance when she tries to side step his bulky frame, her own feet tripping over each other and send her toppling nearly into a cot.

Strong, boney arms catch her, hauling her upright by her arm before she hits the ground, setting her back on her feet; Glass looks down at her with wide, surprised sockets, a deep orange blush scaling his face as he adverts his deep orange eye lights.

“What where ya fucking go’n.” his voice is deep and pleasant, and he had been at Lola’s heels the second the majority of the group had been brought across the portal, deep orange lights glowering at her as she gave orders to the others. Checking over everything, distrust and anger strong in his aura as he huffed and snorted, trailing after Lola like an angry, misbehaving puppy.

Lola gives him a bright smile, soft and sweet, that makes his scalding blush burn hotter as she pats his sternum lightly, internally wincing at his bruised face, but she doesn’t let it show in her expression, “Then get out of my bubble.” She tells him cheerfully, feels a swell of amusement when his face darkens a little with an even deeper blush.

Sharp teeth open to snark back, but Lola is already side stepping him to cross the room to Ripper and Sin; the latter of the two had wanted to be near Ripper when they were both brought through the portal, trying to stick close and Lola had taken mercy on him.

Sin sat perched on the edge of Ripper’s soft bed, leaning forward with one arm around his waist and the other propped on his knee as he watched Rippers chest lift and fall in painful little breaths, black tar leaking from the corner of Ripper’s mouth.

Lola feels something shift in her soul, not pity, they were never ones to pity but a compassion born of being where Sin was, watching someone you care about struggle to live. Sin, at least, returned her small grin when it was offered, and Lola sat slowly at the stool near Rippers bed.

Next to Red, Ripper’s injuries are the worse that Lola has seen, but unlike Red, Ripper’s injuries would cripple him if healed incorrectly. It wasn’t like a rib or a hand, and if the healing gauze healed it a little crooked, it wasn’t like they could break his spine to try again and Lola was amazed the wound hadn’t killed him.

Lola’s well of magic was tragically low, always had been, an unlucky mutation that didn’t side with her, and restoration potions would only take her so far before the load would drop her. Too much magic that didn’t belong to her, and she’d collapse, pass out as she gave into her bodies demands to rest, making her sick and unreliable, and then they’d have no healer in case one of them crashed.

Settling into the stool, Lola knew she needed to choose carefully, which one had needed her magic the most and Ripper had made the most sense. She wouldn’t be able to do this in a single sitting, no way to mend the damage done all at once, and healing gauze would have to help if they had any hope for him to walk again.

Moving slowly, Lola pulls a pair of scissors from the trolly she pulls closer to herself, ignores Glass and Sin tensing around her as she cuts through Ripper’s stained, white shirt. The scissors glide all the way from the bottom to the top, right down the centre, cutting the shirt in half. It had been difficult to get Ripper here without breaking his spine in half and killing him; Lola wasn’t risking it for his shirt.

Wincing as she peels away the marrow-soaked fabric from his rib cage, the smell of infection and stale magic make her want to gag, and she feels her stomach twist that the damage done to his fragile body. The broken spine had been easily found in her first exam of his body, splintered as if someone shook him like a chew toy, but his rib cage had been shattered, his sternum cracked as if someone had jumped on him several times. His exposed soul warbles in pain, distorting as his breathing hitches and the magic between the breaks in his ribs is angry and swollen; Sin flinches at the weak noise he makes, twisting to reach out to take Ripper’s hand to provide what comfort he could.

Steeling herself, Lola knows his ribs will have to wait, and she gives Sin as a reassuring smile as her cold hands wrap around Ripper’s splintered spine as gently as she could. Her eyes close as she focuses, all other noise fading into nothing but a soft buzz in her ears and forgotten. All the matters is putting Ripper back together.

Under her hands and the warm healing magic, she feels the first bone shift back into place as green magic seeps into his broken body.

-

Sloan’s eyes flick to Lola’s back as around them her family is slowly putting back together the foundling skeletons that had been dropped into their laps; her eyes flashing azure as they flick to Sin, look hurt and worried, white eye lights focusing on Ripper, her mouth pulling into a frown. Interesting.

Giving her head a brief shake to clear it, Sloan turns back to Nightmare, worried eyes glazing over Felix and Lilith, knows to give them space and they’ll talk their issues out. Or it’ll come to blows and be fine, hard to say which way they’ll fall with tempers flaring.

It usually came down to how much Felix vexed their sister, how thin Lilith’s patience was running, and how badly feelings had been hurt. Sloan sighed inwardly, taking a step towards Nightmare; she’d let the battle mages work their issues out, until it was time to step in.

Instead, she focused on Nightmare with a frown, taking in his slumping form, the way he leaned heavily on his designated cot, clenching at his chest as if in pain, mouth parted as he panted. Frowning, Sloan took another step forward, her head titling with worry, “Nightmare, you okay?”

He swayed, nausea rising, “Fine. I’m fine. Just used a bit too much magic.” His words soft and coming in rushed little pants.

Sloan feels his frown deepen as she takes another step, “Are you sure?” her voice is soft when she asks, “You’re not looking very good.”

He doesn’t even cringe at the softness of her voice, or the warmth in her eyes, “I’m…” a single shard of light magic pools at the centre of his chest, white hot and bright enough that Sloan can see the shadowy outline of his broken soul.

An azure socket widened in pain before it constricted in agony, clawed hands going instantly to his chest to claw desperately at his body to tare through it to get to his chest. Sloan’s eyes go wide, and she’s moving before she’s conscious of the effort, shooting forward to catch him as Nightmare collapses forward. He makes a wet, choking noise, going head first into his cot, nearly slamming his skull into the corner, would have had Sloan not traced the short distance to him, catching him, getting her body between his and anything hard and lowering him to the floor with painful gentleness.

With the light shard burning hotly, lighting up his soul, Nightmare blindly struggled and choked on air. Sharp claws dug into his ribs and azure magic welled at where he clawed at himself, determined to scrape the shard out of his battered body.

Around them, everyone froze, and Glass took a step towards them before Sloan waved him off, gentle hands catching Nightmare’s, stopping him from hurting himself, “I’ve got him.” Her voice soft as Sloan shifted him, pulling him flush against her torso, threading her fingers through his then wrapped both of their arms around his chest, pinning him against her. She shifted, long legs bracketing his hips, so he sat between her legs and pulled against her chest. 

Nightmare tries to struggle, legs kicking helplessly, tentacles thrashing feebly as he chokes on foamy, black sludge as his eye light rolled up into his skull as it lolled back against Sloan’s shoulder. She hangs on for all she’s worth, clings to Nightmare as the magic shard burns hot in his chest and agony throbs through him, pushes him past the brink of what he can handle.

Nightmare doesn’t remember a time he’s hurt so badly, not even back home with the horrible villagers and the horrible things they did to him. Even then, this hurt so much worse, white hot agony shot through him, heavy in his soul that makes him want to vomit and all coherent thought is driven from his mind.

He clings to Sloan tightly, doesn’t realize that there are tears streaming down his face as he squirms in agony, thrashes against her and all the while the spell caster doesn’t let him go. She clings back just as tightly to him, tucks his skull under her chin, murmuring reassurances against the dark magic that makes up his body, “I’ve got you, you’re okay. This’ll pass, just breath Nightmare.”

He can’t catch his breath, not with the burning agony that’s whited out his vision and he bites down on his tongue hard enough to taste magic in his mouth. It causes azure magic to flood his mouth, choking him as panic rises. He can’t breathe, he can’t feel anything beyond agony and can’t calm enough to even feel his magic.

He’s become something he swore he’d never be again, helpless.

Sloan grits her teeth as Nightmare thrashes in her arms, azure marrow spraying from his mouth to coat her arms as he chokes on his own magic and corrupted sludge. She hears him struggle to breath, to take a breath and fights as the shard in his chest burns hotly.

Readjusting her arms to hold him better, arms banded over his heaving chest Sloan feels it, _something_ that is not Nightmare pulse against her soft skin and Sloan freezes. It’s the light magic, _mage_ magic that burns through him, and even if Sloan can’t feel _who_ it belongs to, she knows it’s not Nightmare’s. Gritting her teeth, her eyes burns azure in anger, her vice pressing against the walls of it’s cage and magic floods her body; her heart folds in on itself when Nightmare makes a weak, wet noise, soft words that she can barely understand as he begs for help.

It hurts her heart, makes her hate this agony that _someone_ they can’t stop is inflicting; the caster of this magic is playing with body, tugging on a thread they left behind, like a fish hook to inflict agony from who knows where. From the safety of their own home.

Sloan grits her teeth, allowing magic and power to fill her; whoever had done this is powerful, sure, but it’s untrained magic. They showed their hand too quickly, allowed Sloan to feel the hints too easily, gave in to cause massive amounts of pain too early, and let Sloan know _exactly_ what they were doing to him.

Well, the thing with leaving tethers, they could be used in reverse.

Sloan lets go of his hands, allows his claws to latch desperately to her pant legs so she could slip her hands up his shirt. She pressed gentle hands against the boiling, rippling magic that made up his rip cage and press directly against his slippery bones. Focusing hard, as if there is nothing else in the world beyond she and Nightmare, Sloan focuses on his writhing body, the hot rippling magic, his desperate choking, and she pulls with all her might. His soul comes willingly, easily, into her hands, likely too dazed to realize what she’s just done and lets it happen with ease. His soul his hot and fluttering in her hands, magic oozing between her fingers like an oil slicked bird and she curls her long, delicate fingers with indefinite softness around his burning soul.

Sloan breathes slowly through her nose, an ethereal calm overcoming her as she gathered her magic. Her deep well of power coming easily to her fingers, filling her like the tide coming in and she presses _outward_ as hard as she can into Nightmare’s soul.

He gasps and arches as her magic fills him, pouring in from her to him through where she has anchored herself; Nightmare throws his head back, arches up so that only his heels touch the ground, foaming at the mouth.

Sloan clings harder, whispers reassurances softly against his damp, rippling skull and is terrified that he’ll fall apart from the pain. Her magic rips through him, travels through his body like rushing water through a gully, seeking out the intruding light shards. Her magic wraps around the shards, and part of her revolts with _how many_ there are, hundreds that have impaled his body and each one a tether to the asshole who did this.

Each one a fishhook that could be tugged on just to make him squirm, just to make him hurt, but Sloan smirks as her magic wraps around the shards and she can feel the connection. The magic is familiar, in an odd, distant way, in the same kind of way that when the Coven leaders hold the yearly Gala, and she can sense the magic of someone who long ago tried to kill her. Yet, it’s a slippery memory and she can’t quite grasp it. Can’t quite remember _which_ mage this belongs too, too many years of war, too many mages who tried to kill her.

Too many mages she’s killed in turn.

Right now, it doesn’t matter that she recognizes the magic, not when Nightmare’s suffering at their hands, not when his reedy voice begs softly for help and Sloan knows he doesn’t know what he’s saying; her magic, powerful and old, and well trained, sink into the shards of light, turning the one that illuminates his soul azure and Sloan pushes all her intent into the connection itself.

She pours all her anger, her hate into the connection; she unleashes her vice, her eyes turning from bright azure to solid black as she pulls at his agony, mimics it, and releases her vicious intent into that connection. It holds steady, and Sloan smirks sharp and cruel, knowing in her heart of hearts, she’s retuning what Nightmare is feeling back to its sender ten-fold.

She can feel a pulse on the other end of the connection, feels the swell of anger and agony faintly, feels a flash of a giddy kind of cruelty, knowing they can feel it, knowing she’s going to win. She’s got a deeper well and stronger magic, and she can keep this up for hours if she needs to; Nightmare won’t, but he just needs to outlast whoever’s on the other end.

He will, she’ll get him through this; Sloan has master level control of her intent, better then even the battle mages. It’s why she can cause rot and despair with her magic, earning her the call sign _Pestilence_ and with one more vicious pulse through the connection, throwing everything she can at it, she can feel the other writhe in agony before they start to snap the connections to each of the light shards in his body.

Almost like cascading dominos, the connections snap from his soul outward as whoever it is saves them selves from the agony Sloan is slinging back at them like it’s a breeze. Pulling back the intent and magic, Sloan is quick to reel it back in as the last of the connection snaps so that it doesn’t get caught in Nightmare’s body, leaving him weak and trembling against her.

Eyes brightening back to azure, Sloan hold him as Nightmare seems to deflate, nearly limp in her hold, moving only to spit a clot of spoiled magic from his mouth, and allowed himself to be held as his body trembled.

It takes him a long time to speak, longer then Sloan would have thought as she holds him tight, not daring to move herself as he gulped back shaky breaths. She thought he would have forced himself to move before he was ready, causing more damage to his already torn body, but Sloan was pleased when he let himself be held. His voice is rough, low enough that Sloan struggles to hear his words, “That was great. Lets never do that again.” 

Despite everything that’s happened, Sloan laughs, rich and full of life in the darkness. It startles Nightmare, his head jerking upwards painfully, not used to anyone laughing at his sarcasm, and doesn’t necessarily hate the weird feeling that flushes through him warmly when she does.

“Boss?” Glass’s voice is hesitant, and when Nightmare pulls his dim eye light away from the pretty mage he’s still clings to, his hands still shaky.

Nightmare shakes his head, “Fine.” His voice is surprisingly strong and smooth, like had hadn’t just spent the last new moment bathed in agony.

“Just got rid of a parasite.” Sloan adds softly, hands moving slowly downward from his shirt, carefully pulling his soul out along, her hands warm and humming with magic, “He’s okay.”

Glass looks torn, glances back to Lola, who hasn’t even flinched as she continues to focus on Ripper’s spine, and back to Nightmare. “He’s okay.” Sloan is quick to reassure gently, and slowly Nightmare relaxes. They’re allies now, she’s not going to hurt him. “Still has all those light shards, but the connection with whoever did it has been broken.” She adds softly.

That seems to settle Glass, who with one more firm look to Nightmare, nods and goes back to hoovering over Lola. With surprising quickness, the mage’s shake it off and turn back to their own tasks.

Nightmare sighs, wonders vaguely if he could make her laugh again, “No more pretending to be a puppet?”

Sloan snorts, which isn’t quite the sound he hoped for, but hell it wasn’t like he had practice with talking to humans.

Why the hell did he care?

He shakes his head to clear it, instead focusing on her words, “No more pretending to be a puppet.” Sloan parrots, “I’m going to check your soul, make sure it didn’t take any damage.”

He’s too weak to fight, nods and limply lets her take his soul out from his black, oozing shirt, “You’re all taking this very well.” He muses.

Sloan shrugs, “War will do that to you.” He frowns, too tired to tip his head up and instead leans into her to soak up her warmth, “Prepares you for all sorts of shiiii…” 

Her voice trails off as her soft, warm hands carefully pull out his soul, and the bright, cheery light shard that’s been buried deeply in its centre. Sloan freezes, and Nightmare feels himself stiffen as something like anxiety pulses through him; he has no idea how that didn’t kill him and fate must have been laughing when the shard pieced his fucking soul at _just_ the right angle to not kill him.

Nightmare isn’t stupid enough to think that they can pull it out without shattering his stupid fucking soul and suddenly all the positive emotions he’s suddenly been feeling make sense. Why he can feel things again, all shiny and new like _before_.

Anger and terror pulse, his black, oozing soul drips wetly over Sloan’s hands, and isn’t that just fucking great.

She doesn’t say anything as Nightmare eases his soul from her hands into his own shaky, unsteady ones, shoving it aggressively back under his shirt and into his ribcage to dismiss it and its little shard away.

“Nightmare,” Sloan’s voice is soft, and it makes his stupid soul swell in a cocktail of emotions he can’t remember how to regulate. Hurt and anger and relief and _fear_ swirl and fight, making him feel nauseous, and he clings to anger.

Its easier, safer that way, “I’m tired.” He tells her suddenly, looking stubbornly at his hands, “Wrap Sin’s ribs, or something.” His voice is hard and angry, and Sloan pauses, looking down at him between her legs with calculating eyes; they need to talk about the shard, need the tiny little healer to look at it and tell him how fucked he is.

He’d rather not talk about it at all, but he didn’t get as far as he had by ignoring his problems. Fuck, if ignoring problems got him anywhere, he’d have stopped talking to his brother ages ago and knew that this needed to be addressed eventually.

Later, once he’d accepted it. Maybe after he slept, sleep sounded good.

He cringes inwards, hates that he’s suddenly intimidated by that shrewd look, hates everything briefly as Sloan nods. “Alright Nights.”

That gives him a moment of pause at the boldness from this tiny, wisp of a human who harboured unimaginable power and used it to save _him_ , “Nights?” he’s surprised his voice is steady and deadpanned. Exhaustion left from the pain is eating at his magic, these new emotions are not helping and are frankly stupid.

They’re making him mushy and soft, and allowing this tiny human to call him Nights.

Sloan shrugs, unconcerned and unafraid as she raises a brow at him, her smirk much kinder now, “Nightmare’s a mouthful,” from the corner Sans snorts and ignores Nightmare’s dark glare, “So, you need a nickname.” As if it’s that fucking simple and he’s okay with it.

He sighs deeply at her, irritation sparking weakly and that at least is something he’s familiar with, and it’s drowned out when Sloan grins at him and something soft flutters through him.

“Think you can stand?” she asks softly, and he’s huffy and annoyed when he’s asked.

Still, it takes him time to stand and even then, he’s shaky on his feet. He doesn’t complain when she catches him by the shoulder to steady him when he nearly topples over, only touching when she absolutely needs to and lets him make his slow, painful way to the cot.

Only when he’s panting and tired on the cot, slouching on to his hands to keep him up right, does Sloan sidesteps in front of him, blocking the others view of him. He’s stupidly grateful she does that and hates that he can feel grateful again.

Sloan carefully pulls out a potion from her inventory, silently handing him a cold liquid, her voce soft when he carefully takes it with a frown, “It’s a restoration potion. It’ll replenish the magic you’ve lost. Drink and get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning.”

He doesn’t believe her, can’t see how things will be better but pulls the cork and drink anyways. He feels the buzz of her magic all the way through him, from his soul to his toes. It doesn’t make him feel less tired, but at least a little better.

Sloan take the empty glass container, tucking it back into her inventory and Nightmare doesn’t fight her when she guides him down into the bed, pulling he blanket out from under him to tuck him in. He feels something warm and weird squirm in this soul, and he doesn’t know what to do with this kindness.

“You don’t need to be this nice to us.” He nearly spits at her as Sloan turns towards Sin.

She pauses, her head tilting as her dark, curly hair fell over a shoulder, brows furrowing in confusion, “I don’t.” she agrees with the harshness that he had seen when they were making their deal, “But it costs me nothing to be kind.”

He frowns at her and her words, but she turns back towards Sin, moving with that predator grace she had, missing the confusion on his own face. He watches her carefully, not entirely sure what he thought, didn’t know how to sort his feelings, but at least was confident that his team were safe.

If they mages were foolish enough to be kind, so be it. He could benefit from their stupid softness. Maybe the soft little Sans of this world was wrong, he wouldn’t hate everything here.

He tries not to look around the room, tries not to see the others, _his_ others hurting and in pain, being cared for by tender hands they didn’t deserve. He tries to swallow the guilt of all he had done and cursed the ability to feel.

He tries to ignore Edge sitting up right on the cot, with Lilith tending to Red with careful hands, tried not to feel the guilt that made him heartsick. It was his fault they were so ill prepared in dealing with mages, so unprepared when dealing with such a fighter that Lilith would not hesitate to break an already crippled fighter. Nightmare looked away when Lilith touched them now, her hands gentle on both Edge and Red when she and her soft little boy friend worked to heal them. He frowned and looked away, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand, stunned to find his face wet.

Had he cried? His soul twists at the thought, and that’s just fucking great.

With a snarl, Nightmare pushes it away, tries not to feel anything and looks beyond them to Glass’s back and his hoovering, and wonders if Ripper will walk again. Worry twists his magic at the thought of his broken crew mates, and Nightmare is sure that worry is a stupid fucking emotion that no one needs.

It doesn’t make his own panic lessen in the least bit.

Huffing, he flicks his eye light back to Sloan, watching her cross the room to fetch Sin, watches as he gives Ripper a worried look, sentimental brat, before he allows the mage to lead him back to the other spare cot near him, and Nightmare closes is eye. He just can’t do it anymore today, and sleep is a siren song of peace and not having to fucking feel anything for a while.

He’s tired and his body aches; when sleep pulls at his soul, he doesn’t fight it. He allows himself to be dragged down, his breathing slowing and deepening, and he’s grateful he doesn’t dream when he finally allows his body to rest and heal.

He doesn’t see Sloan’s worried gaze, doesn’t see her brow furrow as he passes out, couldn’t know how her heart aches. He doesn’t see that Sloan catches a dozen micro expressions cross his face as she realizes he probably doesn’t know he’s doing it. He doesn’t see that she’s figured out that its been a long time since he felt anything and has lost the ability to mask his expressions.

It’s not pity, but worry for the broken creature before her, a broken Den mate that she can’t comfort or even tell the truth too. They can’t stay, and the Den will see Nightmare’s little Doom and Gloom crew off as soon as they’re all healed, regardless of how her heart hurts at the thought.

Sin sees the open worry as he’s gently directed to the open cot near Nightmare by his elbow. Sees the mage’s concern and feels it in her aura as he’s pulled along and doesn’t fight her. He’s obedient and quiet, because he isn’t stupid and knows right now, they need the mages. Knows he’ll play nice as long as he needs to, to get what they need.

He’ll hand over anything to them right now if it means the crew will live, anything they want and if right now if they want his obedience, then so be it.

“Will he be okay?” Sin asks, soft and tired, drawing those azure eyes back to him, and he shivers under those intense eyes. Fuck, this mage is a beauty. Too pretty if anyone bothered to ask Sin, willowy and soft with thick curly brown hair and perfect, smooth dark skin.

Sin grins at her as he follows her to the cot, and at least it’s softer then the ones they scrounged up from other universes, and studies the pretty mage. _Sloan_. Far prettier then her warrior counter part, again if anyone bothered to ask Sin.

A shame no one ever did ask him for his opinion.

Sloan slows to a stop next to the sleeping, oily creature in the cot, azure eyes glance down to his exhausted form and her full, pretty mouth pull down into a frown in the corner of her mouth. Nightmare isn’t the type to accept coddling, probably take it worse then Lilith or Felix would, but she wouldn’t lie about how sick he was.

“I don’t know.” Sloan tells him eventually, slowly with a soft sigh. “He’s hurt, bad and I don’t know if we can fix it completely.”

Sin feels his soul twist at that thought, hates it, and feels sick that one of his own may have been permanently damaged because of this. His smirk falls as he glances down to Nightmare, who Sin has never seen look so small and helpless.

Not Nightmare, never Nightmare. Not the monster that saved him from his own universe and always stood strong despite what was thrown at them. Nightmare was always above it all, always.

Sloan watches him shrink in on himself, watches his grin fall, and his face was drawn in pain, bones almost chalky and his knees shake. The dark smudges under Sin’s sockets remind Sloan of Sans, back when they first came to the surface, and he was tired all the time. When he was sad and hurting, and afraid.

The spell caster sighed softly, watching yet another skeleton broke a little, before she rallied. She had been tasked to care for the assassin, had gotten Nightmare through that whole ordeal of cutting the tethers to his soul just minutes ago, she could bandage his ribs and arms and offer a little comfort.

Her hand found his spine, drawing exhausted yellow eye lights to her soft face, and Sloan gave him a brilliant grin, “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”

Sin knows he’s in trouble when he feels his soul warm at her words and manages to grin at her, it’s wide and soft, and reminds her of Sans, “At least buy me dinner first.”

Sloan blinked at him and his wide, innocent grin and she laughed. It’s high and soft, like bells, and it makes Sin soften just a little more.

He’s going to blame it on being hurt, that’s why he’s so relaxed and so easily handled. He’s hurting and so is his crew, and Sloan is pretty and nice and isn’t hurting him. Really, his standers are low enough right now that, that’s the thresh hold.

Sin’s grin is edged with pain, hurt that makes his vision swim and he feels sick, but he doesn’t allow himself to collapse into the cot. He settles gently down, siting on the edge so his legs still drape over the side and his feet plant onto the floor.

“Alright,” Sloan is soft and gentle, hands firm on his shoulder, stance wide as if to brace herself and Sin hates that a little, like she’s expecting an attack, but doesn’t necessarily blame her. He needs to be good, that’s all, behave and give them what they want, “Lets get this coat off.”

An easy challenge, or at least it should be; Sloan says nothing as she slowly, carefully peels Sin’s coat off. He winces and cringes, gasps softly as heavy leather pools at his elbows, Sloan moving slowly as she helps him out of his jacket. His ribs throb in agony and he can taste stale magic at the back of his throat.

“Deep breath.” She tells him softly, after pulling one arm free. He takes a breath as she threads his shattered arm through the heavy sleeve, and he swallows back the pain as his vision whites out.

Sloan gentles him, rubs his shoulder with the heel of her hand, “Good job.” She tells him softly, folding his jacket neatly on the edge of his cot, her hands careful as she picks up his broken arm.

Pale, distressed eye lights clear as Sin looks up, tired and nauseous, but he manages to give her a crooked grin, “I excel at doing nothing.” His voice is shaky and breaks, but it makes Sloan grin at him.

“Sans says the same thing.” There’s an amused twist to her lips, a softness to her eyes as she studies the spiralling break that crawls like ivy up his arm, it’s a softness that Sin isn’t used to people directing at him and he smoothers the gentle swelling of his soul. These aren’t his friends, this isn’t his crew, they are simply a means to an end.

Sin snorts, “Yeah, he’s me, right? Or am I him?” he grimaces as her fingers carefully prob his arm, “Who came first? Chicken or the egg?”

Sloan hums, gently sets his arm down to peel his shirt up a little, winces at the sight of shattered ribs and swollen magic, “So are you the chicken or the egg?”

Sin manages to grin, “I’m the pretty one.” He tells her with a wink.

His soul does a stupid little flutter when she grins at him, pats his knee as she eases the shirt back down, “How emotionally invested are you in this shirt?”

“What, you mean this marrow-stained old thing? Very, deeply, emotionally attached.” He tells her with a twist of his mouth, a dark grin, and his words full of sarcasm.

His soul swells when she laughs again, soft and a voice like bells. It helps Sin relax, his joints loosening as she cuts his shirt off, stripping him down to bare bones, “I always knew girls only like me for my bones.” He tells her cheekily as she peels away the bloody t shirt.

Sloan grins at him, “Well it certainly isn’t for your winning personality.” She snarks back with ease, and Sin brightens.

“I like you.” He chirps at her, bright and amused despite his hurt and exhaustion.

Sloan laughs again, gathering supplies to put him back together, the gauze glowing a soft green with healing intent, “Achievement unlocked.” She tells him with the twist of her mouth.

Sin’s head tilt to the side, his amused grin falling a little, “I don’t get it.”

Sloan pauses, green gauze glowing softly in her hands as she slowly wrings the excess magic back into the little container she’s pulled it from. She blinks at him, pauses and her grin spread slowly across her face, “You have so much to learn.” It’s the first spark of excitement he’s heard from her, heard something other then annoyance or sheer mocking, and he grins back at her.

“You going to teach me mage?” he asks, sultry and inviting, ignoring the pain in his body, ignoring that he’s sitting naked from the waist up and on display. Every injury, every scar, every bruise on show.

Sloan gives a little snort, her mouth curling into a grin, “Sure Sin, I’ll teach you what a meme is.” 

He has no idea what a meme is, and tries not to wince when Sloan gently presses her finger tips against his broken ribs, gently nudging the bone back to where it should be as she beings to wrap his broken ribs in healing gauze. The relief is almost instant, not healed but the magical intent lessens the pain, numbs it a little and the wraps that glow a soft green are comforting and warm.

It’s more then he deserves as Sloan binds his ribs one at a time in healing intent.

Pain burned through his arm as the pretty mage lifted it up to bind a broken rib, and he swallows back bile with a gasp

“Sorry.” Sloan’s voice is soft, and she actually sounds remorseful, carefully binding his ribs. Azure eyes glance to Red, who wheezes on his own cot, and Sloan frowns, “This looks like my sisters handy work.”

Sin snorts, “She’s got a mean right hook.”

Sloan grins as she works, “She does. Built that way.” Sin gives her an odd look at that, but Sloan continues her work in silence.

Sin grins but can’t keep it in place. He’s tired and hurt, emotionally exhausted at watching his friends creep closer and closer to death each day, and the relief that they all might just fucking live draining what little energy he had left.

He’s too tired to sass or flirt, instead passively allows the mage to wrap his bones. Tries to stifle any noise of pain or cringe of agony as she moves his arm, begins to bind that too.

“Thank you.” Sin mutters softly, tired and hurt as Sloan finishes with the bandages, setting his healing arm carefully against his chest. Compared to the others, his wounds are a walk in the park and easily mended. None infected, mostly clean breaks and she finishes far quicker then the others.

Lola is still pouring healing magic into Rippers spine and Glass is still hoovering angrily over her shoulder, and around the room the rest of Sin’s friends are laying in agony.

Sloan gives him a look, mouth pulling into a frown, seeing how sick and tired Sin looked, gives him a gentle nod, her hand soft on his skull as she urges him to lay down, “You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep Sin.”

The assassin manages to shake her hand off a little, fighting against his own bodies need to sleep, “Wait. The others?” the snark and sarcasm are gone, leaving only naked exhaustion and pain.

Sloan tilts her head, carefully watching for a long moment before she nods to Sin, “I’ll watch over them. My Den will care for you.” Your Den go unspoken, “Get some sleep Sin.”

When she urges him down the second time, Sin goes willingly, lays down and closes his sockets, “Thanks.” He mutters softly, relief and fear finally bubbling to the surface of his soul. Part of him wants to fight sleep to listen to the others, make sure they’re safe.

Yet, Sloan’s hand is soft and warm on his skull as she gently pets along his parietal bone, easing him into sleep. He doesn’t know why he trusts this mage, doesn’t understand how he _knows_ she’ll take care of them, only that she will. It helps ease any lingering fear and Sin sinks into sleep easily enough, his broken body giving in to it’s need to rest.

Sloan watches over him carefully, watches him pass out and feels something broil in her soul. She looks to Nightmare, and to the others, and feels dark, angry protective energy swell in her soul.

Something hurt them, something did this to them. Something that left teethers in Nightmare to play with later.

Something that brought these dark, powerful skeletons to their knees, and ultimately to Sloan’s world and it fills her with fury.


	6. The Second Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mages continue to patch up Nightmare's Gloom and Doom Crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Here's the second half of the mages patching up the crew and dealing with the initial injuries that they're finding. Fun fact, when this story was in the very early planning stages, chapters 1-7 were supposed to be two chapters xD   
> This chapter and the last chapter were supposed to be one chapter :p 
> 
> A few warnings to be aware of, and enjoy! 
> 
> Warnings, broken bones, panic attack, injuries, infections, illness

Irritation flicks through him as Felix loaded up his little trolly with healing gauze, water, and a bag of liquid magic that he’d donated. He intended for that magic to be used to help someone he gave a shit about, but here they all where.

He’s moody and annoyed and hates everything that’s happening right now. This whole thing is fucking dumb, and when he glances to the hurt trio he’s been _assigned_ to assist, he refuses to acknowledge the weird, sharp tug at his soul.

Nope, it’s not there, not real. He refuses to feel the swell of hurt when he sees these skeletons, _~~they’re not fucking Den mates, they’re not! He doesn’t care what instinct says, they’re not! Den mates don’t try to kill each other…its. It’s different from when Lilith found him in the war, it is~~_ so hurt. He doesn’t, he’s cold and angry, and he’s _ignoring_ the demon laughing at him in soul, the shit.

Turning, Felix catches Lola’s eye, offers a reassuring grin that should set her at ease, and he knows it’s worked when she smiles back at him and relaxes. The moment her back is turned, Felix shoots Lilith a dark, angry look, irrationally blaming her for everything for a moment. This is her fault she was taken, _~~because he was too slow to save her,~~_ she was the one who wanted to bring them back here, _~~because he couldn’t see what they are to them, couldn’t see they’re Den. Because he’s too angry and afraid, and he almost lost Sans and Lilith.~~_

Lilith suddenly straightened when she feels hostility in the air, her instinct sharper then his own, and when she turns, mouth pulled into a confused frown, she pauses at his angry look. He’s been caught, feels stupid for it and is stupid enough to double down.

His glare gets hotter, gold magic swelling in his eyes in challenge, because he’s feeling moody and angry, and stupid and no where to direct it. Lilith freezes, shifts her stance to create a wall in front of Sans and Red, covering Edge by the nature of her position and her eyes swell the color of blood. Dark and angry, offering challenge to challenge, and Felix has no doubts if they came to blows now his sister would put him on his back.

Yet, he’s full of adrenaline and panic, and he’s angry even if he doesn’t really know _why!_

He doesn’t back down, but neither does Lilith. Instead, she straightens, seems to fluff up to make herself bigger in challenge.

_Easy Felix. A fight with your big sister is not a fight you want right now._

He knows the demon is right, that he’s lashing out because he’s being stupid and afraid. If he fought with Lilith, really fought like he’s itching for, he’d only hate himself later. Dropping his eyes fist, Felix lets go of his magic, glancing up with dark eyes to his sister in grim submission.

He sees her from under his lashes glower a moment longer, ensuring he truly has backed down, a habit they’ve had beaten into them from insubordinate shits in the war, before she releases the hold on her own magic and turns back to Red.

Felix huffs, feeling shitty and poorly about himself, hates when he fights with Lilith. It makes him feel off kilter and wrong and knows that he’ll need to talk to her if he wants to end this sooner rather then later.

He knows he’s gotta be the one to apologise. That this is his deal and he’s acting like a child, and he need to be the one to apologise.

But. Later.

The demon laughs, _come now, ours wait._

Turning back to Wine and Coffee, Felix feels another swell of emotion that is definitely not hurt. It’s not, despite the thing inside that laughs, _yours. Ours._ It purrs with such confidence. 

Rolling his eyes, Felix pushes his cart closer, causing Coffee and Hope to cringe into each other, the tiny human trying to shove the long, gangly body behind her and be fierce. Coming to a stop at the edge of their cot, Felix glowers coldly and they cringe back, away from him.

Cold eyes glance to Coffee’s shirt, sees the letters ripple to read out _Scared Guy_ , and it makes Felix snarl with unexpected irritation. Why the fuck should he be afraid, they were the fucking invaders, Nightmare, and his little crew of killers.

Coffee pulls back against the wall at his back with a whimper, terror on his face as his arms went around Hope and they curled away from him.

_Gently!_ The demon hisses in his head, angry and hot, _ours! Yours! Gentle your approach!_

Felix feels his soul twist and shakes his head to clear it. His face softens when he turns to Wine and his mouth twists into a bitter grimace, “Shut up.” He mutters to the thing in his head and rolls his eyes at its laughter.

Still, he did gentle his touch, reeled in his anger and magic when he turned to Wine; this thin version of Sans was barely breathing, sweat poured from his skull in dewy droplets and his mouth full of sharp teeth parted as he panted. Gentle fingers brush at the legs that’s bend wrong with a tsk and knows that it’s going to be a pain to strip him out of this bone tight ensemble he’s poured himself into.

Figures, it’s a stupid, leather onesie.

Shaking his head, Felix sighs, reaching for the scissors on this cart, fuck it he’s going to cut him out of the fucking thing and he reaches for the crimson scarf at his throat. His fingers barely skim the surprisingly soft fabric, when suddenly Hope is throwing herself at him, yelling for him to stop.

Felix freezes, hands stilling before they even bring the scissors near the scarf, desperate eyes searching for her wide, fearful ones. Despite how she shook, and Felix hated the terror in her eyes, the rosy cheek child still rallied her courage.

“Don’t wreck his scarf.” Her voice is soft and hopeful, Coffee at her back looking at Felix with wide sockets full of fear, and Felix _hates_ it. Yet, it’s not like he’s given Coffee any reason not to be afraid, has he?

“It’s special.” Hope’s voice is soft and petering out, her determination waning in the face of her fear, “Please?”

Felix nods slowly, carefully sets down the scissors and his soul eases at their relieved faces. He reaches around Wine’s thin throat, finding the knot to carefully untie the scarf with infinite care. Clearing his throat, Felix tries to loosen the anger from his voice, “Why’s it important?”

Hope scuttles forward a bit, coming just ever so slightly closer to Felix as he carefully unwinds the scarf from Wine throat, folding it with gentle care to set on the trolly. There’s a small, shy smile on her face and she clings to Coffee’s hand, bravely coming closer despite how she’s being urged back, “Coffee gave it to him when they were kids. ‘Fee lost his black book, so we can’t lose Wine’s scarf.”

Felix hums, wonders what the hell a black book was but doesn’t feel like such a monster when the little girl isn’t so afraid of him.

“Thank you.” She says in a hushed, rushed voice, “That’ll make Wine happy to have his scarf back.”

Felix hums again, eyes glancing to Coffee, who’s terrified and pressed against the wall as far as he can, one hand stretched out to cling to Hope, “That’s what I do kid, live to serve.”

He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, but he’s still raw and hurting in his own way, and he knows he shouldn’t take it out on the kid.

Hope tilts her head as Felix pulls off Wine’s boots, careful of his broken leg so he can peel the rest of the outfit off his slick bones. No point in wrecking Wine’s only cloths, if they’re so important, Felix guesses.

“I think Wine is going to like you!” Hope suddenly chirps, watching Felix with careful eyes, “You’re sarcastic like he is.”

Felix snorts, anger finally dissipating and when he grins, it’s not dark or sharp, “Will he? Well, rest assured kid, I’m annoying as fuck.”

He reaches for the zipper, moving slow and careful as he pulls it down. “I don’t think your supposed to say fuck to a kid.” Hope muses, tapping her chin with her forefinger, and it makes Felix snort as he peels the leather away from bone, “Are you?”

Felix shrugs, “Fucked if I know.” He muses, relaxing, “But I did teach Frisk to say fuck in hands, so. You know, it’s par for the course.”

Carefully peeling the tight jump suit from the fragile bones, Felix winces at the shattered rib cage, the crack in his pelvis and the leg that’s bend the wrong way. It’s a slow, careful movement, careful not to disturb the swollen magic or shattered bone. He needs to be careful to not cause more damage.

Wine groans even unconscious, and it is a good sign that he’s at least a little aware. Not so far gone that all this effort will go to waste if he dusts.

“Fuck, it looks like someone used his rib cage like a trampoline.” Felix huffs, carefully poking at one of the broken bones, seeing the spoiled magic rise like pus, and there’s no comment from his brand-new peanut gallery.

He glances up to her and it feels like someone’s just punched him in the chest with despair; her eyes are wide and afraid, full of tears as she stares in horror at Wine’s broken body, and her lower lip trembles. Felix feels his heart squeeze, like someone’s reached into his chest to crush it, and he doesn’t like that broken look on her little face.

“Hey,” his voice is firm and cold, authoritative like it would have been from the war, and it brings her terrified eyes back up to him, “you want him to live?” she nods when Felix points down at Wine’s broken body and his heaving ribs, “Then there’s no crying in the in the infirmary. You want to cry, go do it out there.” He jerks his thumb towards the door to the hall, “But if you want to help him, do it later.”

He knows this probably isn’t the best way to handle a frightened child, but he doesn’t know any other way and he needs to keep her focused. “How can I help, I’m just a kid.”

Felix blinks at her then Wine, before huffing. He reaches for the container of healing gauze, warm and green, dripping with healing magic, “I need you too hand me wrung out wraps, like this.” His voice is a little warmer now as he shows her how to use her fingers to wring out the extra magic, “Then fold it here. I’m going to clean his wounds and set his leg. But I’m going to need lots of these. Okay?”

Hope nods, wiping her eyes with a dirty sleeve, “Okay.” Felix watches her for a moment, watches as she wrings out the strips and carefully folds them, helping in the way she can. Satisfied, Felix nods and goes to starts to clean the wounds when her small voice speaks again, “Sorry Felix.”

He shakes his head no, “Don’t be.” He says quickly, feels bad for snapping at her and doesn’t want her get the wrong idea, “There’s nothing wrong with crying. Nothing wrong with feeling things.” Fuck knew he had a hard-enough time expressing feelings, real feelings, “But time and place. You don’t cry and stop thinking when someone’s counting on you. Especially when their family.” He gives Lilith’s back a guilty look before his eyes go down, “Cry after. When everything’s done and it’s not scary anymore. Cry with who’s left, for who’s gone. Don’t cry when there’s still someone to be saved.”

Hope sniffles, and nods her head yes, “Okay Felix.” She seems to settle down a bit, continues to do the job she’s been tasked with, slow and methodical.

“So, what did this?” Felix asks, nonchalantly as he can, as if they’re talking about the weather.

Hope shrugs, frowning at the gauze, rubbing at her eyes, “Don’t know.” She admits, worried eyes glancing around the room, “But it was fast. It hurt them, went after the Sanses first. It…it crushed Wine and broke Rippers. It…it hurt them.” Her voice is small and afraid, and fearful eyes go to Felix, “Do you think we’re safe here?”

Felix pauses, hands careful as he grasps the bend leg, “Yes.” he says with such confidence, that he genuinely believes his words, “Nothing can hurt you here. Not with us here. Nothing gets past us.”

Hope frowns, “Lilith got passed Nightmare. So, so that’s got to be true.”

It hurts Felix’s heart that she has to think like that, and he gives her a little frown. He wants to do something, something to reassure her, but Wine needs him first, “Hope close your ears and close your eyes.”

Wide eyes glance to his hands and Wine’s naked leg and knows what he’s about to do. She makes a little noise, stuffs her fingers in her ears and jams her eyes shut; Felix pulls back as hard as he can, setting Wine’s broken leg quickly and winces when the small skeleton groans. “Okay kid, your good.”

She peeks an eye open as if she’s expecting to find him in the middle of setting Wine’s leg just to scare her, wide eyes blinking open when Felix starts to wrap the shattered bone, “You with me?”

Hope looked up, her small mouth pulled into a frown as Felix carefully layered healing gauze around the shattered bone that Hope handed him with a little shrug, “I dunno.” She muttered quietly, sadly in that hurt way that only kids could frown, “It was scary.” She tells him softly, looking down at her knotted fingers.

Felix looked up with a frown as he finished bandaging Wine’s leg, moving quickly and efficiently up his body; green bandages warm at his pelvis and ribs, the thin skeleton panting softly in fever and pain as he mauls over Hope’s words.

Pulling the blanket gently over Wine’s vulnerable body, all the way up to his hips, Felix tucks him in before he finally answers, “Yeah, I bet it was.” Felix cant remember how to feel fear if he’s honest with himself, but he knows Frisk can and knows he doesn’t like it when his baby sister is afraid, “But I bet you were brave as hell.”

The little head tips up and the shiest of smiles twist at her lips, “I wasn’t. I hid with Sugar and Mercy until the screaming stopped.” Felix stills as he reaches for the bag of magic and IV set, feels his soul do a weird dropping thing.

“That doesn’t make you any less brave.” He muttered quietly, brows furrowing as he slowly started moving and set up the bag of magic.

“What are you doing?” Hope changes the subject quickly, feeling shy, Mercy was the brave one not her. The little spitfire from Underfell, that’s what Nightmare called her.

Felix’s hands move carefully and with confidence as he summons Wine’s soul. It’s swollen and hot, scared as it trembled in his hand, burning with the same fever Wine’s body does. Such a fragile little thing, “Wine needs magic.” He tells her softly, “And Sans jokes that humans like to jab each other with big fucking needles.” 

He gives her a sharp smirk, and Hope’s eyes widen as she understands what he’s going to do, “That’s a big fucking needle.”

He laughs as her small voice curses, bright and cheery, and it draws Coffee from his curled ball of misery to finally give a little to peek over at Felix curiously.

Next to them, Ryder sighs, looks up from where he’s carefully bandaging Gore’s ribs with a deep frown and Papyrus is gently patting Sugar’s hand, “Really Felix?” he demands, making his little brother laugh, “You’ve been in the company of a child for like, what? An hour?”

“An hour, tops.” He adds cheerily, winking at Hope and making her giggle as he carefully pierces Wine’s soul with the big bore needle.

“An hour.” Ryder dead pans, “And you’ve already taught her to curse.”

Carefully folding the length of plastic tubing around itself, Felix tapes it to Wine’s swollen soul, his donated magic a heavy gold that floods the throbbing crimson. Felix is careful when he tucks Wine’s soul back into the protection of his rib cage, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders to tuck him in, “Taught Frisk to sign fuck in like fifteen minutes.” 

It makes Hope giggle again even as Ryder huffs an annoyed sigh and goes back to carefully binding Gore’s ribs. Felix laughs lowly in his throat, side stepping the cot and pulling the stool over to Coffee’s cot, “Okay, your brother’s gonna be okay. Where are you hurt?”

Coffee blinks at him, curls a little tighter into his ball, pressing himself back into the wall and away from Felix; Hope’s smile falls as she reaches out to take his clawed hand to hold, her voice soft and reassuring, “It’s okay ‘Fee. Felix is nice, see? He helped Wine.”

Yellow eye lights pale with distress blink at Felix worriedly; he glanced with uncertainty at the mage, before he slowly scooted forward, unfolding his legs to sit at the edge of the cot, long and thin and seemingly too small. He looked down as his hands curled tightly in his lap hard enough that his claws bit into the back of his hands.

Hope settled in next to Coffee, little feet swinging happily as she looked up at her silent guardian. Felix glanced from one, to the other and back again before he settled on Coffee, “Okay, where ya hurt?”

Coffee glanced up, mouth pulled into a small frown, and slowly held out his arms. Felix frowned, “Right, you ah, talk?”

Coffee cringes inward a little, shoulders hunching and hurt as his eyes grow sad as his arms drop down to his lap again. Felix frowns, knows he’s an asshole and squirms a little, coughing to clear his throat.

Hope frowns at him, little brow furrowing and Felix grins when he realizes she does in fact have a spine, “That’s not nice Felix.” She snaps at him, moody how only a child could be, lower lip pushing out in an angry pout.

Adorable. Felix grins back at her, hands up in surrender and he gives Coffee his best smile, eyes flashing down to his shirt and tries not to let his heart press in on itself when the words blaze back _Scared Guy_.

“Yeah, your right kid, that wasn’t nice.” Felix admits, lowering his arms, “It’s okay, Frisk can’t talk either.” He knows that he’s being callous, but sometimes his mouth moves faster then his brain. Usually. Like, ninety percent of the time.

Coffee frowns at his hands, and Hope’s little face darkens, “He can talk!” she snapped at him, “But only to people he trusts.” She puffs herself up, looking proud, “Coffee uses a notebook, but we lost it.”

Felix grins at her, turning his eyes to the thin skeleton before him, and the demon inside purrs happily when pale eye lights lift. Felix ignores it, “We’ll get you another one,” he tells them firmly, “But let’s start with getting the shirt off, yeah? Let me see the damage?”

Coffee hesitates, and Felix waits patiently with his milliwatt grin until he finally nods slowly, holding out his arms again. It’s a slow process, painful that has Coffee wincing and pulling away but Felix persists. Slow and steady until the long-sleeved t-shirt is peeled away and off.

Setting the shirt next to the scarf, this seemed important too, Felix frowns at the cracked arms and burning infection. The broken bones were expected, and Coffee isn’t to the point of infection to need extra magic. Not yet.

No, it’s not the fresh, ugly wounds, those were expected. Something angry and vicious rises from Felix’s centre as he oh so carefully takes one arm, fingertips carefully brushing along the cracks, lingers on the perfectly spaced, the exact same size scars that ran up Coffee’s arms. Too perfect to be from battle, Felix would know, he had plenty of scars.

No, these were too perfect, too neat, too pretty to be from battle. These were planned, carefully thought out and methodical. Felix feels something swell, feels the demon hiss inside and he breathes slowly through his teeth. Looking up from Coffee’s arm, he follows the evenly spaced scars up to his shoulder, tracks the scars along his clavicle under the thin black tank top and down his other arm.

Felix feels his eyes narrow on the too perfect scars, and thumbs one, “What happened here?” he manages to sound light and not so angry as Coffee cringed away.

Hope’s little face fell, and any cavalier fell with it, “The Queen.” She tells him softly, “Is really mean where we come from.”

Felix hums, face darkening in anger and gold swells in his eyes, “Toriel did this?”

Hope cringes away, but Coffee shrugs, tired and used to everything bad happening, pulling his free, shattered arm to his body, allowing Felix to continue to hold the one gently in his hands. The demon flashes hotly in his soul, his vice pressing against its box in rage.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Felix excels at doing shit he doesn’t want to and swallows his rage. Instead, he picks up a cloth to start cleaning the wounds of their marrow, tries not to notice the scars too much, “It’s okay.” He says lightly as he cleans the wounds with a gentleness not typically seen from battle mages, especially him, “My first Coven sucked too. You’ll find your people.”

Hope brightens again with a small grin, resilient kid, “We did!” she chirped, and Felix glances around the room to her broken people, her broken Den.

“Yeah, you did kid.” He nods, gold eyes glance around the room and the broken skeletons that have suddenly been entrusted in their care.

Felix sighs as he cleans the wound, inane chatter passes through his lips to keep Hope and Coffee entertained, quietly promising that if he’s ever given the chance, he’ll tear their Toriel’s still beating soul from her fucking chest.

The demon inside purrs at the thought, and it’s a good thing he knows how to bide his time.

-

Ryder feels a ripple of agitated magic and glanced over at Felix, hears the bright chatter from his brother and knows this is partially a cover. Knows that Felix is angry, that the babble is a distraction to most, but Ryder felt the pulse of anger from his little brother, knows when Felix has sunk his teeth into something that’s upset him. Its only a matter of time before he physically gets his hands on the target of his ire, battle mages were weirdly patient when they were hunting.

Sky blue eyes glance to Lilith, can see his little sister’s careful hands working over Red broken body, and huffs a sigh. What ever the battle mages issues are, they’ll work them out. Ryder doesn’t doubt that for one hot second, not those two. Thick as thieves Lilith and Felix, nothing would come between them and once they worked out this little spat of theirs, Lilith would be on board to hunt down whatever has drawn Felix’s ire.

Shaking his head, Ryder carefully finished binding Gore’s mangled arms and cracked ribs. The healing gauze warm against his cold bones, his breathing huffing little pants but he thankfully stayed unconscious; Crow had been glued to his side, sitting on the cot next to Gore, staring at Ryder with blank, unnerving sockets, eye lights tinged in pink.

Ryder had been at war with the most vicious battle mages, cruel and vindictive, and even they didn’t unnerve him as much as Crow did. He sat so still, almost like a demented Halloween decoration that Ryder once doubted he was alive. He was too still, too hyper focused on Ryder’s big hands moving slowly over Gore’s battered bones.

Ryder knew a threat when he saw one, knew this skeleton was different from the others, a little more unhinged, a little more dangerous and he was attached to the skeleton with the massive hole in his head. Crow would no doubt shank him if he did anything to hurt Gore, even if he perceived to hurt Gore, Crow would probably try to rip his throat out.

With his fucking teeth, no doubt.

Still, next to him, Sugar is sobbing quietly into his hands, the opposite of Crow, and Papyrus stretched at tall as he could to wrap his arm around Sugar’s heaving shoulders.

“It is okay Scary Me.” Papyrus sooths, his voice pitched a little lower then his usual exuberant volume as he gently rubbed Sugars’ back, “You’re okay now. You are here with us, you have no need to be concerned.”

Ryder watched, with pain in his heart, as Sugar looked up and between his fingers, great orange tears streaming down his face. He tried not to wince or let his pity show as the broken face of his mate stared up at Papyrus; Sugar’s teeth were smashed inward and jagged, and he winces every time he speaks.

He spoke slowly and quietly, as if his mouth hurt him if he spoke too loudly, “It hurt my brother.” He whispered to them, wincing as he gingerly pressed long fingers against the bruising at his sockets, “It hurt him.” He says again, quiet and broken.

He curled tightly inward, trying to make his massive body look as small as possible, a feat in of itself and Ryder feels his soul pang and swell with grief, “My name’s Sugar” he whispered, small eyes glancing around in terror and Sugar scrunches in closer to Papyrus.

Rubbing along his back, his hands sliding over his ridged spine, Papyrus glances nervously to his mate, his frown deep and sad before he turned back to Sugar, “You’re safe now Sugar, no one-“

“Alright Punks.” Undyne is loud as she heavily stomped into the room, looking tired and irritated, rubbing exhaustion from her eye, Frisk trotting happily at her heels, “I ordered lunch, its soup. Lola said it would be easier on weak stomachs.” She grins wide and confrontational when Glass turns his head to glare at her, cold and vicious. He doesn’t attack, and Undyne strolls by him with a slick grin aimed at Glass while she walks towards Ryder.

She chuckled darkly, maintaining eye contact with Glass, but it’s the monster next to him that makes Ryder nervous; he felt Sugar stiffen next to him as Undyne strolled into the room, “How’s the creepy Sans doing Ry?”

Ryder felt the tension building next to him, felt his own big body tensing at the sudden anxiety in the room, his hands are reaching towards Papyrus, his voice firm and loud, “Undyne stop moving.”

“What?” her head turns towards him, mouth twisting into a confused frown as she continues to take even steps towards him; Frisk skips over to Sans and Lilith, sitting next to Mercy, not feeling the sudden tension in the room.

Sans has, and even from across the room he’s frozen next to Lilith, every line in his body screaming that he’s ready for a fight. Next to him, Lilith has carefully put down the soft green gauze, crimson eyes and white eye lights start scanning the room as they sense the intent from between him and Papyrus.

Ryder tenses, realizes that Undyne doesn’t sense the sudden spike of anxiety from Sugar and continues to take even steps towards he and Papyrus, her yellow eye tracking Glass, her smirk sharp and antagonizing.

“Undyne.” His voice is harsher, sharper, and it has Felix twisting away from Coffee with a frown.

She’s too busy with her weird stand off with Glass, and doesn’t notice that Sugar’s sockets have dried, his sadness, his hurt have been replaced with terror. It’s thick and heavy, so much so that Ryder can nearly taste it, something bitter in the air as Sugar’s terror becomes something tangible.

Crow twists his head away from where he’s been pinning Ryder with that terrifying blank look to Undyne, and Ryder wished for the creepy, dead socket stare. Crow’s left socket flash with hot pink magic, vicious and cruel as his mouth pulls back into a chilling smile as he lifts his control hand.

Ryder tenses, readying to make a grab for him the moment he summons anything, knows that this particular rendition of Sans is not all right when Sugar _screeches_ and throws himself at his broken brother and this broken Sans.

It ratcheted up the tension in the room as he flattened Crow down against the cot, trapping his control hand as Sugar’s massive frame covered the pair, his words garbled and inconsolable as he pinned them down. Crow struggles under the much heavier weight, pinned and trapped but Gore doesn’t move as Sugar’s long arms wrap around them both, holding them to his chest as he continues to scream.

The screaming, the distorted words, sharp and broken have Felix snapping to his feet to face a possible threat, body tense and ready to fight, a clear blockade between Coffee, Wine and Hope, and any threat. His axe is light in his hand, eyes filled with dark gold magic in preparation.

Across the room, Lilith is the same, blades in hand, Sans pulled behind her as she stands guard to the two children at her back, and the brothers from Underfell; Sloan has magic at her finger tips as she steps firmly in front of Sin and Nightmare. They’ve both woken, but their groggy and confused, lacking magic to understand what’s happening.

Lola is unmoving, unaware of the sudden chaos around them, so focused on layering magic carefully into Ripper’s spine that Glass side steps to cover the mage. Wild, orange eye lights look around, searching for a threat, confused when he finds none.

Ryder has grabbed for Papyrus, his hand wrapped tightly around his forearm in fear of attack before he realizes what’s happened. That the panicked, distressed screaming, the mangled words were from a place of blind terror. It’s only then that Ryder can pick out the words, the terror there as Sugar begs for mercy.

Begs Undyne not to hurt his brother again, not again. Sans’ll behave this time; they’ll both be good. Just don’t hurt his brother again, he can’t take it. Not again, not right now. _You already took his eye_.

Ryder pauses, feels his soul swell again with undeniable hurt, tangling with fury and pain in a terrible cocktail of emotions when a number of things click in his head. He turns to Papyrus with his body, his other hand reaching out for his knee, “Baby?”

Papyrus’s wide, hurt sockets flick to him, his jaw slightly dropped open in shock, “He’s afraid of Undyne.” It’s an understatement, but it brings a little clarity to Papyrus, “I need you to calm him down.”

Papyrus doesn’t question it, doesn’t give one of his smarmy comments that Ryder adores, only steels his resolve for the task at hand and nods. Ryder gives him a soft, affectionate smile and presses a kiss to Papyrus’s teeth before he’s up and moving across the room.

Undyne has frozen, her eye wide and fanged mouth fell open in surprise and horror, utterly still from where she stopped moving mid step. Ryder takes her by the arm and turns her back to the door, “Undyne, you need to go.”

Wide, shocked eye turns to him as she’s being led away, “But, he’s. Ry, what’s going on here?”

“He’s afraid of you, listen to his words. You hurt him and his brother. His version of you.” He’s quick to clarify as he leads Undyne back the way she came, “His you, is the one who took Gore’s eye.”

The thought burns through Ryder, his brother and his mate, broken and bleeding like that, left like that. Left vulnerable and alone, left without their power and vulnerable. Left hurting. It makes something vicious burn through Ryder, and he think’s he wouldn’t mind meeting Gore’s version of Undyne.

She’s not his Undyne, not his loyal, fierce and good Undyne, who’s looking stricken at the thought, “Ryder,” her voice is low and rough, thick with emotion, “I would never. I wouldn’t hurt Sans and Papyrus. I-I wouldn’t. Never. I….”

Ryder shakes his head, looking firm and fierce as he leads her into the hall, “Not you, but her. Another you, had.” They look back into the room, to where Papyrus, his beloved, perfect Papyrus, is leaning over Sugar, hand soothing on his back as he promises safety and protection.

“Sugar can’t tell you apart from her. Not yet, but you can’t be here now.” Ryder tells her as gently as he can, hating that he’s left Papyrus alone with Sugar and that crazy little Crow pinned beneath him, “Undyne, I need you to go downstairs and wait for the food. You can’t be here right now.”

For a moment, the fish monster looks to be defiant, like she’s going to argue before she looks to the broken version of her best friend. Her shoulders slump and she deflate in on herself and nods, “Yeah, alright.”

She sounds sad, and a look of hurt crosses her face when she looks back into the infirmary to Sugar, sobbing and inconsolable over his brother and something protective crosses her face, “I would never hurt Paps, not ever.” She sounds angry and determined, and it helps sooth Ryder’s soul a little.

“I know.” He confirms, and honestly believes it, “I don’t think you’d take Sans’s eye either.”

She gives him a toothy smile, “Yeah, nah. And if I ever did, Lilith would rip my throat out with my own teeth.” Her sharky smile fades, “I won’t hurt him. I’ll do what ever to make it okay.”

Ryder gives her shoulder a squeeze and smiles at his friend, “I know you will. I bet he could use a friend here.”

That brings Undyne’s grin back and she gives him a sharp nod, “I’ll go wait for the soup.”

Relief winds through Ryder and he gives her a little nod, “Thanks ‘Dyne.”

She nods with a deep, sad sigh, looking once more into the room, and something dark crosses her face, “Listen, either you or those crazy battle mages of ours plan a trip into horrortale,”

Ryder snorts before she can finish the sentence, “Horrortale?”

Her smile gets sharper, smile more jagged, “Yeah, horrortale. You ever go, I’m going with. I have a few choice words for this other version of myself that I think she needs to hear.”

Snorting again, Ryder gives her a crooked smile, “Yeah, does it sound like a spear to the gut?”

Undyne gives him a dark look, one that reminds him of the battle mages when they’re up to no good and about to cause untold damage, “Something like that.”

With that, Undyne turns and strolls back the way she came, down the hall and down the stairs. Ryder watches her go, doesn’t think it’s such a bad idea to have a few words with someone who could be so cruel to do this to a Papyrus.

Any dark intent, any cruel thoughts are shoved away for later and another time. He knows that Sans’s in particular are sensitive to intent, and he can’t have any of his actions called into question. Not at this delicate juncture when Sugar is so afraid of the world around him.

Taking a breath, Ryder causally walks back into the infirmary, soft smile as he heads for his love and the broken version of him. He’d set this right, as best he could, and keep Sugar safe while they were here.

Breathing out slowly through his teeth, Ryder steps next to Papyrus, voice soft and hands gentle as he sooths as best he can.

-

Lilith is still, breathing slow and controlled, body tense and ready to step into a fight if needed. Her crimson eyes aren’t on Sugar, as heart breaking, soul shattering as watching him sob over his equally broken brother is. No, her eyes are on Crow, pinned beneath Sugar’s greater weight, his control hand pinned between their bodies and useless, but his eyes are wide and strobing magic. There’s an air of danger to this one, something that makes the hair on the back of Lilith’s neck stand on end, something fundamentally wrong. Its not his LV, Lilith has LV, her whole family did, no there was something _off_ about Crow.

Something she doesn’t trust, something that puts her instinct on edge as much as the old magic that binds them demands his protection. Two conflicting needs but both were true at the same time.

She’s still and tense, waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to snap first while Ryder and Papyrus’s hushed voices sooth Sugar, calming him down in small increments, gentle and soft in a way that neither she or Felix can be.

Across the room, Felix is the same, whatever spat they’ve had pushed away and forgotten in the face of a potential threat, and Lilith knows without a doubt that if she needs him, her brother will be by her side.

They aren’t needed and the sudden spike of adrenaline is for nothing as Ryder and Papyrus sooth them, and with a heaving sigh, Nightmare pull himself from his cot to whisper something to Crow. Lilith doesn’t know what he’s said, what threat or promise has been uttered, but it calms Crow enough for the light show from his sockets to die down.

It’s only then does Lilith ease back, releasing her own hold on her magic. Stepping back, she gives Felix a skewed look, knows that they need to talk about their earlier argument, but later. When they aren’t needed to care for sick skeletons and when calmer emotions will prevail.

Turning back to Red, her eyes carefully take in the work she’s already done. It was slow, careful work and by the time she was done with Red, he was more covered in bandages then not. They glowed a soft green, covering the damage done and the infection that had set in.

Clear little tubes filled with crimson magic from the bag over his head pump more of Lilith’s magic into his soul, and it had been a delicate thing that. Careful to summon his throbbing, fragile soul, to carefully place the needle into the clef of his soul with such care that he didn’t dust, then catching Sans before he fainted from seeing it happen.

Shaking her head, Lilith’s eyes seek Sans out to check on him; her mate didn’t always do so great with needles. Sometimes they made him queasy, and Lilith thought that he wasn’t in the wrong to be uneasy seeing one piercing a soul that mirrored his.

He’s still looking a little chalky pale, but his eye lights are bright as he gently talks to Edge, reassuring him that Red is in good hands. Edge, high and in pain, can only nod along, his skull bobbing with Sans’s gentle words as his hazy eye light is pinned to Red and his soul.

It had taken some careful finagling, gently threading the tubes through the upper part of Red’s rib cage to settle his soul back behind the shattered bone. Careful to let it rest within his body, still dim and sore but sucking back the magic offered desperately.

Lilith pauses, feels her soul cramp as she watches Red. His skull still sweat soaked, face still pulled into a pained grimace as he grits his sharpened teeth and she feels a swell of hurt that makes her want to pull in on herself. It maybe Red, but it’s Sans’s face she sees.

It’s Sans who’s in agony and hurt, who was left for dead, its Sans who was brutalized by something that no one can describe. It’s Sans, that was almost killed.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Lilith lets it out through her teeth in a soft hiss as she carefully tucks those emotions away, shoves them into a box to bury later. This is not Sans, and she needs to keep that in mind. Red is not her beloved mate, he’s dangerous and cruel and she needs to keep mind of that.

Still, she slowly pulls the blanket up over him, tucks him in with hands gentle the whole time and wonders if anyone has been so careful with him before.

Sighing, she picks up his jacket that she had carefully peeled off, turning to check again on Sans and Edge, giving her mate a soft, gentle smile when she finds Sans talking softly to Edge. He’s hanging onto Sans’s every word as his hazy, drug addled eye light has shifted to Sans’s face, his big clawed hand is cradled between Sans’s smaller ones, dwarfing her mate.

Lilith pauses, takes in the sight before her, and feels her soul swell with love for Sans; she knows that he was once Asgore’s judge, was still the Judge and struggled with his LV. Yet, here he was, softly holding the hand of someone who only an hour ago they considered the enemy, comforting him because it was the right thing to do.

It was the kind thing to do.

Lilith leaves him for a moment, crimson eyes glancing to Mercy, and knows that the kid needs to be reassured to. Pulling Red’s heavy jacket from the table, Lilith carefully makes her way over to Mercy and Frisk, her movements slow and deliberate as she crouches down next to the two girls.

Frisk has Mercy’s hand, patting it gently, so Lilith gives her a shallow smile, “Hey kid, you doing okay?”

Mercy glares up at her, angry and bitter, her cheeks still raw from crying, “You left.” She spat at her, and Lilith bites back a smirk. Of course this version of her baby sister is a little spit fire, bold and unafraid, “Edge collapsed just after you _left_.” Her words are angry and accusatory.

He had, when Lilith and Sans had returned to the sick ward in Nightmare’s castle, Edge had barely been conscious and unable to stand. Drugs and pain had finally won the battle, leaving Edge to crash hard in the aftermath of their fight.

Lilith felt guilty, she did, but it hadn’t been like she had any reason to suspect their intentions were anything but cruel.

So, she had carried Edge into their world; his awkwardly long and sharp form being carried by a mage that only came up to his collar bones and Lilith had carried him as if he weighted nothing. Crimson magic had hummed softly around her as she had eased him onto the cot with Sans at her heels, Mercy behind him, her hand curled tightly into Sans’s.

Had circumstances been different, it almost would have been funny, his lanky body carried by someone who was over a head shorter than he was, but Lilith couldn’t find the humor in it. Not when Mercy glared up at her, bitter and angry, feeling abandoned by the mage who promised to help.

Lilith frowned, no longer needing to bite back a smirk and gave her a little nod, “I know kiddo. But I couldn’t have helped them. Not like how they needed, so I did the next best thing and brought help.”

She continues to glare, eyes watery and hurt, and Lilith suddenly feels out of her depth. Put her in a war, she’d thrive and lead and survive. Give her a frightened child, she had no idea how to comfort her. She wasn’t Sans or someone she knew; Mercy was a frightened kid that had been traumatised.

Still, Lilith tried, “Hey, this seemed important to Red. Why don’t you hang onto it?” she holds out the heavy leather jacket between them as a peace offering, and Mercy’s face softens when she sees the leather.

The anger and bitterness fade away, sadness and hurt replacing it as she reaches for the jacket, “Thanks.” Lilith can see her fight back tears as she takes the jacket, pulling it to her chest as she relaxes a little.

Lilith nods back, “Yeah, no problem Mercy.” She pauses, a little uncertain, “Listen, Mercy.” Her green eyes look up at her, “You’re safe here. Nothing’s going to hurt you, okay? We won’t let it.”

Mercy blinks at her, blinking back her tears and grief when she glances to Edge, “Nightmare said the same thing.” She whispered, and Lilith can feel the fear that rolls off her, “And something still got us. If Nightmare can’t keep us safe, how can you?”

Lilith leans back a little with a frown, and it’s a fair question. Something did get past Nightmare’s defences, tore them apart and left them for dead. She pauses, thinks about it for a moment before softly tells Mercy, “Because my Den is here, and nothing is stronger then a Den of mages. We’ll take care of you, okay.”

Mercy looks down, tears gathering thickly as she clutches at the leather in her hands, “Even Red?”

Lilith nods, “Red too.”

Mercy sniffles, “And Glass?”

Lilith nods, ignoring him as Glass looks over and gives her a glare when he hears his name being called, “Glass too.” She confirms.

“And Ripper?” Mercy asks softly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

Lilith nods again, “Ripper too. Lola’s going to do her best to put his spine back together.”

Mercy sniffles, “Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that. Ripper’s annoying as fuck.”

Lilith blinks at her, surprised at her words and the sly smile and it makes Lilith laugh, “Even if he’s annoying as fuck.”

Mercy sniffles again, but seems to settle, “Okay,” she pauses, glancing to Edge and bites her lip, “Thanks’ Lilith.” 

The mage nods, “Don’t worry Mercy. We’ll take care of them.” Crimson eyes glance to Edge, “I’m going to go start bandaging up Edge, you stay here with Frisk.”

The girl nods, and with one last smile, Lilith pushes herself to her feet and turns to Edge with a wince. He’s so broken and beaten down. The drugs are wearing down his magic, he looks exhausted and not for the first time, Lilith has to shove down the swell of guilt. He had been hurt when he came to their world, and she’d taken advantage of that. Ensured that she had broken him further in the name of her and Sans’s survival.

If only circumstances had been different.

Crossing the small space to where Sans and Edge sit, Sans still holding his hand gently, Lilith eases into the stool by his cot, and she gives him a small grin, “I’m going to check you over Edge.” She tells him gently, her hands moved slowly over his damaged bones. Gently assessing the damage, crimson eyes glanced up to his lax face and blown eye light. Taking stock of the damage, Lilith frowned as she quietly asked, “What did you take?”

Edge managed a shrug, and Lilith shares a worried look with Sans. Edge huffs, closes his sockets for a moment when his head feels like it’s swimming and the room is spinning. His throat felt thick and his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, and he can’t talk. Instead he clings a little harder to Sans’s soft hands, and tries not to feel so terrible.

Lilith frowned up at him, taking stock of the damaged bones, and she gave him a little nod, “Right.”

Next to her Sans squirms, looking worried as he carefully assesses the damage as well and he knows just as well as Lilith does, that Edge is in a lot of pain.

“You take a lot of it?” she asked lightly, glancing to the kids behind her, keeping her voice low enough to prevent Mercy from over hearing.

Edge lifted a hand, swaying to indicate so-so. Nodding again, Lilith gave him a confident smile, “Alright. You feeling much?” that got him a head shake of no, “Okay. Good, Edge?” he forced himself to focus on her, and he swayed a little, “I’m going to start to peel off your armor and patching you up, okay?”

Edge swallowed hard, his throat clicking, “Mercy?”

“Don’t worry, she’s here too.” It was a gentle reassurance, and all she could do as she side stepped a bit to let Edge see Mercy. His watery eye light focused a little on his charge, before he slumped forward a little with a nod.

Edge nods, weak and exhausted, his voice small when he glances to Red in his own cot, “Don’t let my brother die.”

Lilith frowns at how small and weak his voice is, how his eye light flickers. Something in her chest squeezes, and she takes his other hand, warm and firm next to Sans’s, “We’re going to do everything we can.” She doesn’t promise anything, can’t give him what he is desperate to hear, but they will do everything they can.

Crimson eyes glance to the knee she shattered, the arm she broke and the ribs she cracked, and winced, “I’m um. Sorry about that.” She nodded towards his broken bones.

Edge shakes his head, dim eye-light fading in and out, “’s fine. Would’a done the same.”

Lilith snorts and her mouth twists into a grin, “Yeah, I imagine you would.” Her smile falls a little, “What happened to you? Before us?”

Edge manages a shrug, and next to her Sans has started to lightly pet his damaged forearm, slow and soothing as Edge speaks in a rough, detached voice, “I dunno.” He slurs, “Something came from the void. Tore us up, didn’t have enough medical supplies to fix it. Infection set in.” Edge’s skull lolled as his vision swam and he swallowed thickly, “I don’t feel good.”

His words are slurred and rough, and if Sans had to guess, he’s betting everything hurts. Edge isn’t the kind to show weakness easily, and this is a testament to how much pain he’s in. That small confession had a bigger, deeper meaning then even Sans can fully see.

Sans can see how Edge is fading fast, how what ever he took is finishing the job of his broken body, knows that Lilith had added to his agony in her desperate attempt to keep them safe. Something like worry twists his soul, worry for the massive, scared, broken skeleton that grips at his and Lilith’s hands desperately, even as his head sways with illness.

White eye lights glance to where Red is laying unconscious and broken, then back to Edge, who can barely keep his head up. That same, gut churning worry eats at Sans as he watches Lilith comfort the horrifying skeleton before her, and he wonders what _he_ would have done in Edge’s position? Would he have tried to kidnap a healer for Lilith?

Glancing to his mate, he knows the answer is yes, and wonders how he could blame this hurt, broken version of his brother for doing what he would not have hesitated to do?

Any anger that Sans may have had for Edge, any animosity, melts away in the face of Edge’s plight, in the face of his pain. It’s not pity that fills Sans’s soul, but mercy. Understanding, and Sans finds himself wanting to _help_. To ease his pain, like Lilith had for him when they were trapped underground.

After all, maybe that’s what they needed, was someone to just care for them.

Crimson eyes glance to where Sans holds onto Edge, her smile softening for him as her shoulder bumps softly into his. The kiss that Lilith presses to the side of his skull is quick and soft, the nuzzle of affection making his soul pulse happily even if it’s lost to Edge and his drug addled state.

“I know you don’t Edge,” Lilith’s voice is soft when she addresses him, reassure to both him and Sans that everything is handled, that he’s handled, “but you’re going to be okay. Sans is going to keep holding your hand, and I’m going to patch you up, okay?” Her words are slow and careful, and Edge nods along with them even as they set Sans at ease.

“Don’t worry kiddo.” Sans gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and his soothing words bring a glower to Edge’s face at being called ‘kiddo’. It makes Sans grin, “You’re gonna be okay. We’re not gonna let anyone hurt’cha.”

Leaning over, Lilith presses another quick kiss to the side of Sans’s skull before she pushes herself to her feet, confident that Sans will take care of himself if he should need to. Edge watches her with dull, hazy sockets as she carefully picks up a booted foot, easing the boot from his leg.

Edge gurgles softly, trying to tell Lilith that it hurts, but the words won’t come. He clings to Sans, clinging to his words as much as his hand, “Easy there Edgelord. You’re okay, we have you. Just keep breathing.”

Edge nods, ignores the mangled version of his name, and just tries to breath as Lilith carefully, as gently as she can, eases the boot off. She peeks inside, frowns as the sloshing marrow trapped inside the boot, and Sans cringes as the amount that she dumps into bucket by the cot.

He’s lost so much, and Sans has no idea how the fuck he managed to stay on his feet to fight as well as he did, “I’m sorry Edge.” Lilith’s voice is soft, and Sans can hear the remorse.

“s’okay.” Edge mutters to them, swaying a little as an odd numb feeling creeped up his body, “I don’t feel it much now anyways.” They don’t know if he’s lying or just tying to convince himself.

Still, Lilith and Sans share a frown, share their guilt before they seal it away. Guilt, not matter how justified, will not serve them here, not now and certainly not later. Not if they want to help and make an actual difference. Feeling guilty wont wrap Edge’s wounds, guilt wont make him feel better, but showing mercy will. Helping him, will. Being kind when no one else had, will.

They steal themselves, find their metal as they set into clean Edge’s wounds and wrap his bones in warm healing gauze that will save his life.

-

It takes time to bandage them all and by the end of it most of Nightmare’s Doom and Gloom crew are more bandages then bones, each one carefully wrapped and tucked into bed. These dangerous, violent skeletons who have viciously been mauled and left for dead, have been gentled and put to bed.

Even Ripper had been carefully bandaged by Sloan’s careful hands after Lola’s magic gave out after pushing herself too hard. She nearly fainted, falling backwards off her stool, and would have hit the ground had Glass not caught her.

He had eased her to the ground, cursing and demanding to know what the fuck happened to the healer. Lola, brave, sweet Lola had wiped the blood from her nose from the strain she had put herself through, and reassured Glass that she was fine. She just needed to rest, and not to worry.

She’d see to it that Ripper would walk again.

Lola then tucked _him_ , exhausted and more human then ever, into bed to rest with the promise that once she was feeling better, they’d start again.

Sans had watched with a frown as each one was tucked into bed with careful, gentle hands, Crow curled in next to Gore, both in the cot next to Sugar. Each one receiving he same careful treatment, and reassurance that they’d be woken once food arrived, but it was time for rest now.

White eye lights had carefully watched Edge and Red sleep, their chests moving with slow, deep breaths as Mercy curled in next to Edge to sleep; unable to help himself, Sans pulled the blanket a little more firmly over Edge, smoothing it out a little as he all but snuggled into the blankets wearing a pair of Felix’s soft pants and shirt to sleep in.

It takes time to sooth them and get them down to sleep, each one more anxious then the last, but the mages manage; now they look tired and stressed, sitting around the kitchen table, a place that usually brought laughter and peace.

Around the table the Den is looking nervous, thumbing at glasses and Lola is trying not to chug back a restoration potion, fights the itch to go back and work on Ripper’s spine just a little more. She can’t burn herself out, they need her on call in case one of them crash.

“Alright.” It’s Sloan who speaks first in the too quiet kitchen, drawing the entire Den’s eyes to her, “I know they’re Den mates, but they can’t stay.”

Pain ripples through them, and next to Sans Lilith stiffens at what he knows she sees as blasphemy. Den’s stay together, and already Lilith and Felix are raising an automatic protest that is silenced by Sloan’s grim face and sad words, “We need to be realistic here. We need to understand who Nightmare is. What he is.”

That slows the protests as Lilith and Felix share a worried look but allow Sloan to continue, “They are still the bad guys.” She says softly, blinking a little too hard at the fact, and Sans can feel the emotion thick in the room, “And Nightmare is a manipulator. It’s what he does, he sows chaos, and we can not allow our selves to be used for his gain. If he were to discover what he is to us, what that means, he _will_ manipulate us into acting how we normally would not.”

The battle mages slump down wards, frowns deep and hurt, and Sloan’s voice is thick, “They can not know. They can’t. We will care and provide for them, and then we cut them loose.”

Sans feels his own soul swell with hurt, hurts when he thinks of Edge and Red, bleeding and hurt upstairs. Hurts when he thinks of Sugar and the girls and knows that the others feel it too. Knows this is killing Sloan to be the voice of reason for the over all good.

Slowly heads nod around the table, “Good. Lola, how long until Ripper’s spine is healed?”

Lola sighs, “Could be weeks. He doesn’t have an innate healing ability like the battle mages do and I need to layer healing magic carefully into his spine. Too much too soon and I could fuse his bones and cripple him.”

Sloan nods slowly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “Alright. It’ll take about the same amount of time to pull all those light shards out of Nightmare’s body.”

Sloan sighs again, wipes at her dewy eye with the back of her hand and clears her throat, “All right. Then lets see them through this and send them home.”

It’s a hallow shitty feeling, and Sans too feels the swell of hurt of losing their own.


	7. Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Lilith bestow a little bit of kindness onto Edge. It's not something he's ever been familiar with and doesn't know what to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> We finally get a little bit of fluff with one of our Doom and Gloom boys. Edge needs a little bit of love and softness, even if he has no idea what to do with it. 
> 
> It's been a bit of a week and a half. I mean, frankly it's been terrible, and I haven't gotten nearly as much writing done this week as I had hoped. Chapter 9 is maybe a little over half way done, but I'm hoping that you all enjoy chapter 7's fluff and chapter 8's going to be a bit dark. 
> 
> No warnings for chapter 7 really. There is some reference to Edge living in Underfell, and it's a terrible place to grow up. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was the sound of a door creaking open that drew him from a surprisingly deep sleep; although if Edge thought too much about it, he more likely passed out from drugs and exhaustion then actual sleep. He doesn’t feel particularly well rested, and his sockets itch with exhaustion and his mind feels befuddled with the need of more sleep.

Yet, a lifetime of constantly being on edge, of having the threat of death hanging over his head all the time, of never truly being _safe_ , have Edge fighting with himself to open his sockets. It feels like a herculean effort to open them, his sockets feel dry, as does his mouth, and such a simple task shouldn’t take so much out of him.

The world around him spins, makes him feel nauseous and he squeezes his sockets shut when he feels magic gathering like saliva at the back of his throat. He swallows it back, throat clicking dryly, trying to focus on breathing in and out slowly through his nasal structure so he doesn’t vomit all over himself.

It’s a slow process, and his instinct is screaming at him to open his sockets, prepare to fight; that he’s vulnerable, but the thought of watching the world spin around him keeps them shut as magic fills his mouth.

It takes time, longer then he wanted to admit to, to get his nausea under control and his sockets to blink open again. Relief fills him when the world has stopped spinning, but he still feels sick and his head throbs, and Edge can only hope that this isn’t turning into a migraine. It’s the last thing he needs in a long list of what his needs actually are, right up there with a hole in the head.

No one has noticed that he’s awake, something he’s grateful for. He doesn’t want others to see just how vulnerable he is and he’s relieved that there aren’t many in the room with them; it’s their soft little healer Lola, she’s doing rounds with her crooked brother, Felix. She’s speaking softly to her brother and he’s writing down what she’s saying as she goes over each of his group, her hands painfully soft as she checks them over.

It makes Edge’s soul pang with hurt, they’re so gentle, so careful and part of him simply doesn’t trust it. No one can be this kind, no one cares this deeply without wanting something in return, and Edge isn’t sure they can afford the dept.

He watches, weary and untrusting, not trusting his own strength to hold up should any of this take a turn for the worse, and part of him is terrified that it will when he’s vulnerable and weak. When he’s unable to defend his own never mind himself.

He follows Lola and Felix with his eye lights that he can barely light, pulling Mercy a little tighter to his chest. He watches as Lola checks in on Wine, poking carefully at the bandages; watches carefully as Felix looks over to Hope and Coffee, and Edge feels his soul cramp in panic. He can’t do anything to stop him if he decides to harm either of them.

Hope suddenly beams up at the mage, bright and happy, giving him a little wave, and Edge is tense and sick when he watches Felix suddenly brighten from his board stupor. He gives Hope a little wave, dark eyes glance to Lola, confirming that she was busy before he pulled a ridiculous face that made Hope laugh.

It helps Edge ease back a little, still uncertain by their kindness, unnerved by it. Felix is smug when he gets Hope to laugh, waking Coffee and Felix turns that milliwatt smile to him. Edge watches quietly, looking for any sign that the mage will harm either of them when the bright grin makes Coffee turn yellow with a scalding blush, and accepts the hand offered to sit up.

Edge feels his sockets narrow at the bright grin from Felix and the bashful smile from Coffee, is undecided if he likes it or not. Knows that Coffee is still in a relatively delicate state, too easily attached, too easily hurt, and Felix’s grin is a little too salacious for Edge’s liking.

“Heya, you’re awake.” Sans’s voice is soft and pleasant, unafraid of him which is a fair assessment of the situation. Who would be afraid of him right now?

Edge startled hard, yanking Hope closer to his chest as he jerks back, hating himself that he allowed Sans to get so close without him knowing. Something must have showed on his face, and the soft version of his brother held up his hands, fingers spread in surrender, “Sorry.” He voice is equally soft, “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Edge holds his glare, silent and angry, the exhaustion pulling at his soul. Sans’s tries again as he lowers his arms and pulls the stool up to his cot, “How are you feeling?”

Edge stares at him, feels distress clawing at his soul as he searches for an appropriate answer before he settles on, “Fine.”

Sans blinks at him, a cheeky smile spreading over his face in delight, “You mean Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional?”

It takes Edge a moment to translate what the fuck he just said, and when it finally penetrates the fog of his mind, he can’t help but huff and roll his eye lights. No doubt his brother will be delighted by this softer version of himself, Mercy too, but right now, all Edge care’s about is seeing their group through this mess.

He’s too tired for games and feels too sick to argue, so instead pushes himself up, careful to move painfully around Mercy as to not wake her. She groans and rolls into the spot he had been laying in as he moves to the end of the cot, curling into the warm space he left, “Where’s your mate?” he asks roughly, keeping any conversation away from him and Sans away from Mercy.

Sans shrugs, rolling his stool to follow along, leaving him sitting in front of Edge with a wide, pleasant grin, “Mages all just got back from their run. Lilith and Ryder are finishing up showering. They’ll check in when they’re done.”

Edge is still tense and anxious but nods all the same despite how stiff he’s become.

Sans nods towards his knee, hands hesitant as they reach, pausing at his damaged leg that has Edge stilling and bracing for a strike, “I can pull the bandages off? They must be getting itchy now.” The offer is soft and carful, and Edge appreciates that he’s asked before Sans just touches him.

Edge studies him, sockets narrowed and hard as Sans smiles up at him with that disarming grin that has his tiny fangs flashing. Edge feels a pulse of something, remorse maybe, that this is what his brother could have been, had the world not flipped upside down on them.

Shoulders lowering, Edge nods, gives in easily and lifts his damaged leg, sitting the ball of his foot onto the low stool, between Sans’s knees.

Sans gives him a grin as he rolls up the loose pant leg, fingers careful on his bones, gentle in a way that even the healers from his world had never been as he carefully starts to undo the bandages, “You sleep okay?” he asked as he worked, tongue peeking out to be caught between his teeth.

Edge shrugs, looks away, refuses to acknowledge the soft feeling in his chest, feels stupid for it. His level of standards isn’t so fucking low that this is the bar, that he’ll be bought by someone being nice to him.

“You know.” Sans said lightly as he carefully move’s Edge’s ankle around, inspecting the joint with careful eye lights that Edge isn’t sure he knows what he’s looking for, “When you have a conversation, you need to talk too. It helps with communication.”

Sans grins when Edge huffs at his words, white eye lights glance up to meet crimson and Sans’s grin isn’t cruel. It makes Edge squirm, makes him almost wish it were or that Sans’s words were nasty, it would have made it easier to cope with, at least he understood cruelty. This kindness threw him off, and he didn’t know what to do with it, or what he should do with it.

Sans is patience, can see him working though something as Edge squirms and holds no judgment. His grin is soft and unfaltering, and it makes emotion well in Edge’s chest and he doesn’t know what to do with this kindness.

“I slept fine.” He muttered; voice thick as he tried to get himself back under control.

Sans grins at him, “You know what Fine stand for right?” its so softly said, so gentle with an easy teasing that honestly wasn’t rooted in cruelty.

The words make something bend inside of Edge, something he thought was always tempered steel and unbreakable. He’d never had guessed he still had the capacity to break a little, not after Underfell and all they had suffered there, but there’s still a swell of grief and hurt, and _fear,_ that rise from his chest.

He hates that something as small as someone being nice to him can bring him to his knees, that it makes his eyes go dewy and throat close with emotion as he makes a weird, wet choking noise. Sans’s sockets go wide and his permi grin falls a little, any soft playfulness replaced with concern, “Edge?”

He doesn’t know how to explain how he’s feeling. He doesn’t have the words to say how tired and weak he feels, how this attack left him reeling, how he had _failed_ , “I’m fine.” Edge says again, deepening Sans’s frown as he gets what Edge is actually saying.

He’s Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional, and anything but okay.

Sans gently eases his foot down and moves to sit beside Edge as his hands begin to tremble. Sans’s small hand finds his spine where he hasn’t been hurt, and gently rubs, pushes his comforting intent into his magic as Edge’s breathing hitches, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay Edge.”

It’s not okay, and he almost lost everything, he almost lost Mercy and Red, and his friends and his life, and this soft little Sans is being _nice_ to him. He doesn’t know how to _deal_ with it.

“Do you. Do you need anything? Can I get you something? Breakfast maybe?” Sans tries, hand gentle on his spine as Edge draws inward, “I bet you’ll feel better after you eat something.”

Edge’s hands keep shaking and he can’t get them to stop, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Sans pauses, feels shock ripple through his core at the question and he frowns, “Why would I be mean to you dude?”

Edge snorts, no one’s ever called him dude in his life, no one alive would have dared, “No one does anything for free. I want to know what this kindness will cost me and if I can afford the price.”

Something hard presses inward in Sans’s soul, something rigid and painful as hurt and anger swell. Edge hadn’t just picked that up from no where, that’s a well learned life lesson that had been beaten into him again and again.

“There’s no cost Edge.” Sans tells him with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

It only has Edge shaking his head no, “Kindness wasn’t part of the deal.”

Sans sighs, glances around the room as he scratches at his soft cheek as he chooses his words with care, “You being miserable doesn’t do anything for anyone either.” Sans points out, “And I’d much rather live in a happy bubble of positivity then a swamp of sadness.”

That draws Edge’s sockets to Sans’s again, and Sans gives him his best grin, the one that he knows makes Lilith melt and has his tiny fangs flashing, “Don’t make me live in a swamp of sadness Edgelord. You being happy, makes me happy, through you know. Osmosis.”

Edge snorts, and the words help douse the swell of panic that made Edge’s soul ache. Sans takes it as a good sign, and brightened his smirk, “Think of it more of a symbiotic relationship. We all benefit when we’re all in a good mood.” He gives Edge a little shrug, his hand still soft at his back.

Edge swallows, and Sans can _almost_ see him relax, “A partnership in which we both benefit?” that sooth’s his soul, that’s something Edge can understand.

Sans catches on, his grin widening and if this helps Edge relax, then fair enough, “Exactly. Everyone wins.”

“And no one lives in,” Edge pauses, and Sans brightens, practically begging anyone listing that Edge will say it, “A swamp of sadness.” 

To hear that gruff, serious voice sad ‘a swamp of sadness’ bring a joy to Sans’s soul that he didn’t think possible and he knows he needs to tell Lilith later, “No one wants to live in the swamp of sadness Edgelord.” He pauses, gives Edge a chance to say something, but dim, tired eye lights simply wait for Sans, “So, what would make you happy Edge?”

Edge pauses, looks down at his hands and wonders, what would make him happy, what would help put him at ease and make him feel a little more in control of his life again. In the end, he goes with a simple, short term goal, “A shower?”

Sans beams, because heck yeah that’s something he can do. He gives a sharp nod, “Tell you what. Let’s finish getting your bandages off. We’ll have Lola check how your bones are doing, and I’ll find you a free shower.” 

Edge nods, slowly relaxing as Sans’s hand go back to work to remove the gauze, “Things looks okay.” He chatted quietly as to not wake Mercy, “But there’s still some pretty deep cracks in your bones. Another day in healing gauze and you’ll be back to kicking ass and taking names.”

Edge snorts, and Sans can see the almost grin at his mouth, “Then we’ll find you that shower.” He all but promised.

“Soft Sans?” Sugar’s hesitant voice calls softly from the other side of the room, and he’s looking afraid and unsure, “Could I too, perhaps, borrow a shower? If its not too much trouble?”

Sans pauses in his work, hands stilling at Edge’s arm with a frown at Sugar’s hesitant words and fear, “Of course you can Sug.”

The confident words help Sugar relax and brighten, looking overjoyed at having the chance to get clean; it only serves to soften Edge a little more to Sans, that he’s kind to Sugar as well.

No one lived in the swamp of sadness here.

“Sugar can use it first.” Edge said quietly once Sans’s hands continued their work.

It makes Sans snort, “Dude, there’s like three bathrooms in this wing alone. With how many there of you, we’ll probably open the west wing so everyone can have their own space if they want. You can both shower.” Sans shakes his head at him, his grin soft again.

Edge pauses, frowns a little at Sans and feels a little weird that a sacrifice doesn’t have to be made. That something as simple as showering doesn’t have to be a song and a dance to share what little hot water they had.

Sans is checking his shoulder when Edge very quietly says, “Thank you.”

Sans grins, gives his side a very light nudge, it’s supposed to be friendly, Edge thinks, “Any time Edgelord.”

-

Edge feels _better_ after a shower; not great, but better. He’s clean at least, having scrubbed a week’s worth of marrow and soiled magic from his bones, got the magic gunk out from his joints and generally feels a little more in control of his body again.

He may have abused his shower privileges a little bit, may have stood under the hot spray of water with that wonderful pressure that didn’t sputter for just a little while too long. It had felt _good_ to stand under the hot water, hands pressed into the cold tile, his head down to let the spray get at the back of his neck, and flow down his skull. He didn’t trust these mages or Sans, not really. Too long spent in Underfell to trust so easily, too many vicious life lessons beaten into him to really believe they were as kind as they said they were, and he didn’t really believe they’d keep up this kindness. It was only a matter of time before their true colors came out.

If he only got one shower while he was stuck here, he was going to make the best of it, and he _soaked_ for longer then necessary.

Sans had waited patiently for he and Sugar to finish, playing on his phone while he sat in the hallway, slippered feet swaying side to side while he waited. When they had finally come out, Edge had braced for a sarcastic, caustic remark about them wasting water only for Sans to grin and ask if they felt better. All soft edges and gentle smiles, putting Edge off kilter all the more. For every opportunity they had to be cruel, they dealt out kindness in spades. Even when they had the right to be nasty, the right to be harsh, Edge after all had kidnapped two of their own, but they hadn’t since they struck the deal. 

It didn’t make sense, and made it hard to remember that Sans had fired a volley of super charged magic at him when they had taken him and Lilith, something Edge didn’t really blame Sans for. That was before they’d come to an understanding, and really, Edge _had_ helped kidnap them.

Soft with a steel core, and Edge wasn’t entirely sure what to make of them. Especially Sans.

Still, he followed along quietly back to the infirmary to be looked over by Lola, her hands equally careful on his battered bones while Lilith finished changing the bag of magic that fed into Red and changed his bandages.

It still confused him, all of it, but the mages seemed hell bent on keeping them comfortable while they were all stuck here and none of the others seemed to be as bothered by it. They all seemed to lavash in the attention, suck up the affection like greedy sponges and went with it.

Edge wished for Wine to awake. An older brother yes, but he was the version of Sans that was most like _him_. Captain of the Guard, logical and brave, older beyond his years and beyond loyal. Tiered all the time, and a sarcastic humor that jelled well with Edge’s.

Dark eye lights glanced to his sleeping friend, still burning with a fever as Felix carefully changed his bandages, chatting happily with Coffee and Hope. Something shifts in Edge’s chest when Felix gets them to laugh, even Coffee. The feeling is nervous and tentative, and he doesn’t know how to explain it or what it is, but Edge finds himself relaxing with it.

Breakfast was delicious and plentiful, yet a slow, careful affair to get anyone who could walk out of the room and into the dining room where what can only be called a feast waited for them. How the mages had conjured so much food so quickly, Edge has no idea and the thought of this being another handout from them makes his soul cramp.

They’re getting so much, and they have nothing to give in return, no way to repay this kindness; on the table are pancakes that are fluffy and light, and a perfect golden brown. Golden honey fresh from the famers market and rich amber maple syrup sit along side soft butter that dot the table, hiding among the crispy bacon and hot sausages. The smell is divine, mouth watering but Edge waits for the mages to sit before tucking in.

Next to him, Mercy has no qualms about it, already piling her plate with pancakes and sausages, while down the table Sugar looks like he’s about to cry at the bounty offered. Next to him, Sin is nearly drooling, Glass is too while he sits across from Edge, sockets wide and his hands itch to take. Nightmare beside him, already drinking black coffee, eye light slipping around the room as he tracks the mages.

Edge still feels odd as they tickle in, feels weird that they’re feeding them so well, but they don’t seem to mind as Sans slips into the room taking the seat on Edge’s other side. He gives the four of them an odd look, reaching for the orange juice to pour himself a glass, “You guys don’t have to wait.”

It’s lightly said and has Sin’s eyes lighting up as he reaches for pancakes only to pause when Edge sighs, his voice rough “It’s considered polite to wait for everyone before eating.”

His soul cramped with hunger, and Sin shot him a look, as if Edge kicked him in the shin with the sheer level of heated betrayal. His mouth pulled into a frown that was almost a pout.

Sans grins, placid as ever, “And I bet Ryder would be real sad if his food went cold without anyone eating while it was hot.”

He grins at Mercy as she smoothers her pancakes in syrup before turning that grin up at him, “Seriously, eat.” He gave the proverbial nudge as he piled pancakes onto his own plate with bacon.

Any self restraint Sin may have had broke at Sans’s gentle words, gathering his own food as Lilith came in with yet another plate, this one filled with French toast. She steals three from the serving plate before she offers it up to the table to be picked over by the others.

Settling next to Sans, she reaches for sausages, dark eyes glancing to Edge, “Not hungry?”

Edge squirms, hating everything about this. Hating that he’s at their mercy, hating that he’s wearing their clothing, that he’s eating their food and can’t give anything back. It makes him feel wrong, but his soul cramps again growling with hunger.

Silently, he reaches for the bacon and French toast since Sin has decimated most of the pancakes near them, only using a little bit of syrup on his fresh breakfast. Lilith looks satisfied with what he’s taken, opening a little dossier she had with her, dark eyes scanning the paperwork inside with a frown.

Edge sighs and takes a bite of French toast, sweat and flavorful, the taste explodes in his mouth like he’s never had before, and he swallows back a moan of pleasure. He’s never had anything so tasty, so honestly filing and filled with positive intent, he didn’t think flavors like this exist. They sure as hell didn’t have something like this in Underfell, not even in Nightmare’s stolen world.

It’s like a spark of sunshine in food format, and he’s helpless to go for another bite, earning a grin from Sans, “It’s good, right?”

Edge pauses, reins in his enthusiasm, that engrained fear of liking things only to have them lost bubbling in his soul and he pushes it down hard. It wasn’t like they were going to take food right off his plate. Slowing his movements, Edge nods, “Yes.”

It’s rough and small, but it makes Sans grin, “Yeah. Lola and Ryder are great cooks, though Ry made breakfast this morning with Lola checking in on everyone.”

Taking another bite, Edge chews a little more slowly, thinking that maybe he could help. At least then he’d be contributing to their care, and he’d always had an interest in cooking with real ingredients. He’d always made do with what was scavenged back home, but this was on another level.

He’s about to ask, no doubt Sans would talk to Lola and Ryder for him but feels stupid at the thought. Clearly, they had a system, why would they want an amateur’s help? He buries what he wants under a layer of stoic quiet and eats as the others file into the room.

He can see Sans’s grin fall a little, turning back to his own breakfast, white eye lights glancing to Edge, watching him eat with a little pang of worry. Someone that quiet, that pulled inward wasn’t usually as okay as they liked to pretend, they were; he nudges Lilith’s knee, quietly drawing her eyes up to him.

She follows his line of sight, her frown deepening when she sees Edge hunched in on himself and his eye lights lightening up every time he takes a bite in pleasure. Sans goes back to his own breakfast before they’re caught staring as Lilith reaches out to take his hand, linking their fingers and squeezing.

Sans melts, grinning at his mate even with a mouth full of food and a flush of a blush across his skull. Edge watches the discreet display of affection and something uncurling from his soul, some kind of tight pressure dissipated; their world must be safe, or at least their home, to show such affection without fear of repercussion.

The other mages float into the dining room, carrying glistening eggs and perfectly toasted bread with little cups of sweet jam.

“You two,” Papyrus said brightly with unending cheer as he took a seat next to Sugar, Ryder on his other side, “Are still absolutely disgustingly adorable.” 

Lilith snorts when Sans huffs a sigh, swallowing his pancakes, “Ah geez bro. Come on.”

“Okay,” Sin said through his mouthful of food, earning an eye roll and a scolding not to talk with food in his mouth from Edge, and promptly ignored, “I’m glad someone said it.”

Lilith’s mouth twists into a grin, amused and unashamed, at Papyrus’s deep, put upon sigh, “It is my cross to bear.” He tells Sin with mocking dismay, “That my brother and his mate are that adorable and feel the need to show everyone just how adorable they are.”

Edge watched in growing amusement as Sans went impossibly bluer with a scalding blush, but Lilith doesn’t let go of his hand, “We’re trying to overtake Dogamy and Dogaressa for number one nose nuzzling competition.” She says lightly with a twisting smirk as she flips another page of the report, “But Sans is lacking a nose and I don’t have a muzzle. So alas, we have not won and there are no kissing contests for us to win.”

Papyrus hum quietly, tapping his finger in his teeth, “Well, second place.” He says confidently, taking toast and eggs, “Because I, the Great Papyrus and my beloved, beautiful beau would surely win a kissing competition.” 

It makes Lilith laugh even as Sans and Ryder burn with a blush, Sans quick to sigh at them both, “You both are the worse.”

Papyrus hums again as Undyne steps into the room with Alphys, their hands tightly held, and it makes Sugar to tense. Papyrus takes his hand to pat gently, doesn’t feed into Sugar’s fear as Undyne sits at the furthest chair away from Sugar. Still in the room, but not a threat, and Papyrus continues brightly, “Ah yes Sans. It’s almost as if I have years of pent up annoyance from poorly timed puns that has manifesting itself in annoying you with the assistance of your beloved mage. Truly, what is the point of annoying you if not to have fun with friends.”

It brings a curl of a grin to Edge’s mouth as Lilith laughs, loud and bright even as Sans groans and shakes his head. It’s such a normal interaction, one that has them such at ease that it does something to Edge’s soul. Helps him relax and let go of some of the weird turbulence he’s felt since he woke up.

His head still throbs as the others settle, and Sloan sits with that weird elegance of hers on Sin’s other side. Her grin wide, her own dossier in her hands, “Alright. If we’re all done roasting Sans, lets get through reports.”

“It is my favorite pastime.” Papyrus chimes in brightly, shooting his brother an amused look.

Sans sighs again, putting his hands up in surrender, “Okay bro, you win. I _donut_ fight with you anymore.” It’s lightly said as he reaches for one of the said pastries from the table.

There are groans around the table, but Lilith’s laughter makes Sans brighten and Edge will never admit it, but he’s amused. He wishes his brother were here too, Red no doubt would be just as delighted by this as Sans continued, “I mean, this is an _egg-celent_ breakfast. I would hate to _rye bread_ it by fighting.”

Papyrus gives him the flattest look possible, and Lilith looks like she’s going to burst an internal organ from trying not to laugh so hard. Sloan looks equally as amused, none of the mages seem bothered by their crew being among their numbers, “Are you done?”

Sans pauses, eye lights glanced up in thought and a hum, and Edge watches him carefully with amusement, “Nah, I’m done. Do your reports.”

“Thank you, Sans.” Sloan is amused as she nudged another cup of black coffee to Nightmare, he takes it with a nod, “Lili?”

Lilith takes a moment to compose herself, wiping a tear away before she cleared her throat, “So, the farms to the west are complaining of Yule cats hunting sheep again. My guess is that one’s had kittens in the area if its stuck around this long.” Lilith shrugs, “Best option will be to track them and move them back up the mountain.”

Undyne sighs, scratching at her chin, “Aren’t these the little buggers that have invisibility magic?”

Lilith pauses before she grins and nods, “Yeah. If this was easy, anyone could do it.”

Undyne sighs again, “Alright, I’ll check it out. I’ll take the dog pack and see if we can find the Yule cats.”

Sloan nods as Lilith hands the dossier to Undyne, “Alright, I’ve heard from Noah. He, Alice and Nadia are going to spread out their patrols into our part of the territory. That’ll free us up to stay close to home for the next little while to care for the Doom and Gloom crew.” Nightmare gives her a look, but doesn’t interrupt her, “Nadia is sending the twins out to the western forest to the village with a large population of Fae. There’s been complaints that the humans contracted to put in their new high-speed internet are screwing them round. They’re going to go check it out, but they have Liam’s cell phone number in case they have legal issues.”

It takes Edge a moment to realize what this is, what’s happening here. This is a status update and a dividing of tasks for the day, no different then he had done back in Underfell with the guard. He sits up a little straighter, listening in and knows this is important.

“I’m supposed to meet up with the Mer of the eastern coast in a few days.” Papyrus tells them suddenly, a frown on his face, “So far all the reports coming back from the aquatic monsters have been positive, but I do not wish to slight the Mer by snubbing their meeting.”

Lola looks up from her plate with a frown, “Could we ask them to postpone the meeting? Not really cancel it all together?”

Papyrus shakes his head, “Not without offending them, and they have been very big supporters of ours and I would hate to ruin it and uproot the monsters there.” He pauses, before adding hesitantly, “The only way to avoid a social faux pas would be to send along a gift with the request to change the date. It. It would have to be a sizable gift.”

Sloan sighs, “How sizable a gift?”

“The Mer are extremely strict on keeping appointments and social protocol. To change a meeting that was planned months ago?” Papyrus glances up with a frown, considering, “A year supply of fresh sea food.” He pauses again before adding, “And gold jewelry to the royal family. That will sooth all damaged feelings.”

Sloan sighs, and gives a nod, “Order it. All of it.”

Papyrus nods, and Edge has a feeling that was a very expensive meeting to cancel.

Sloan brushes it off with a sigh and a wave of her hand, “All right, we need to do a supply run for the Doom and Gloom crew.”

Edge fights a grin when Nightmare sighs, “That needs to go away.”

“Sorry, can’t. It’s stuck now.” She tells him with the same airy tone that she always had, unafraid, “besides, I like to say Doom and Gloom crew.” She shrugs, drawing a snort from Sin and an eye roll from Nightmare, “It rolls off the tongue nicely.”

“Now, supply run.” Soft, dark brown eyes glances to each other them at the table, knowing they were missing almost half their number, “Most of you have Sans and Papyrus’s body type, but not all of you do.” Her eyes glance unaccusatory to Sugar then Edge, “You can’t keep wearing Felix and Ryder’s cloths, you’ll need your own. Same as the girls. We’ll get measurements and go shopping, find clean cloths for everyone.”

Mercy suddenly looks up, eyes bright when she asks, “Like at the mall? Can I come too!” Edge feels his soul squeeze when he realizes he’s never heard her sound so excited, knows that she doesn’t understand what the implications of this could be. This kindness, it had a price.

He share’s a look with Sin, knows he knows this as well, and he’s wondering what this will cost them.

Sloan gives her a gentle smile, “That’s up to Edge dear, you need to ask him.”

Wide, hopeful eyes turn up to him, little lower lip pouting and Edge knows he’s a soft push over for his kid. He can hear Nightmare snort, doesn’t need to see him shaking his head to know he is.

-

Glaring up at the mall, Edge isn’t sure he like’s it.

It’s a wide, two story building that is swarming with humans and other creatures that he always assumed were from stories. Fae with long thin wings, elves with their unnatural beauty and pointed ears, and massive orcs file in and out of the ugly building, none batting an eye at him or each other.

There’s a few who give the mages sideways glances, fewer still who smile and wave as they climb out of their Jeeps. It’s a weird feeling that Edge isn’t sure he likes to be ignored as citizens shuffle passed with bags in hand. Weirder still, when some of those same citizens cast nervous glances to Lilith and Sloan, two humans that barely come up to Edge’s collar bones, while ignoring him completely. As if he wasn’t a threat at all.

They cross the road with an unexpected hurry when Felix hops out of his flashy, bright yellow Jeep, opening the door to let the girls out of the backseat and he’s quick to organize the three of them into a line and safely by his side in the busy parking lot. 

Felix either doesn’t notice that the citizens are avoiding him, or is used to it, and Edge isn’t sure which is odder. He isn’t sure which is weirder still; he’s never been on this side of the fence, where people cross the road _not_ because of him.

In Underfell, citizens crossed the road because of he and Red all the time, not because of three small, non-threatening looking humans. His knee, re-wrapped in healing gauze, throbbed in pain as a reminder of what these mages could do and let’s go of the weird feeling.

Clearly, they had a reputation.

Sin hops out of Sloan’s Jeep, white eye lights tinged with yellow magic as he strolls up next to Edge, and he’s just as antsy and nervous. Edge can feel it in is magic as he glowers up at the building, thick and heavy with nerves that Sin’s trying to hide, “Never been to the surface before.” He mutters, hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he glances around, watching the cars drive pass nervously. He’s the picture of boredom, but Edge can see the tense line of his shoulders and the way his head ducks a little as if he’s expecting an attack. 

Edge nods, feels the same nervousness, and tries to shove it down. It’s a valiant attempt, but he hasn’t been on the surface either. Its spacious and bright and loud with too many vantage points to watch over all at once, no way to watch for an attack on his own, “Keep an eye on Mercy and Hope.” He mutters quietly, his own crimson eye lights glance to the two girls that stand with Felix, chatting happily with Frisk.

His own body is still and tense in anticipation of an attack, like at any moment something was going to come for them. His soul is heavy with stress, anticipation makes him sick and experience has taught him that nothing is this easy. Even when he joined Nightmare’s crew, nothing was easy, they fought for every scrap they had, struggled for everything. Nightmare did it to maintain the balance, Edge did it to keep Mercy and Red away from Underfell and Asgore. 

His skull gives a warning throb of pain, making Edge wince as Sin nods slowly; he rubs at the cracks over his socket with a flinch, ignoring what he knows is a warning to a migraine and should probably lay down.

“You okay?” Sin’s voice is pitched low and soft so the others can’t hear, that worry directed at him.

Edge brushes it off, he has a job to do and that’s to keep them safe, “I’m fine.” Its gruff and cold, and makes Sin roll his eye lights as Sans hops out of the back seat of Lilith’s red Jeep.

He isn’t stupid enough to think that Edge is fine, anything but, and knows there’s no point in pressing the issue. It’ll only make Edge clam up and hide when he’s in pain all the more. Better to let Edge come to them when he’s ready.

“Alright, come on.” Sloan’s merry voice drawing their attention as Sin and Edge half turn towards her once they’re all out of the Jeeps. Coffee is the last to hop out of the passenger seat from Felix’s yellow vehicle, “Stay close, we don’t want anyone to get hit by a car.”

No sooner where the words out of her mouth, then Coffee wandered a little too far into the aisle, his eye lights focused on the low building with wide sockets, sharp teeth parted in awe. His eye lights are bright with excitement as he looks around with what can only be joy, and he doesn’t see the car coming at him.

Edge felt his body go tense as he caught the movement from the corner of his socket and a black SUV barrelling down the same aisle, driving way to fast for being in such a crowded area. His chest feels tight with panic, his sockets widening, and his throat closes when the heavy SUV tares up behind Coffee, the blonde driver’s eyes on her phone. 

Dread filled Edge, horror mixing with it when he realizes they’ll have to tell Wine that in their first trip beyond the safety of the compound, they got Coffee killed and he’ll return Coffee to his brother in a fucking jar. That they’ll lose one of their own due to clumsiness and stupidity, and he’ll have to watch Wine’s face crumple in grief over the loss of his brother.

His sockets widened and magic sparked at his fingers, ready to put a bone construct through the engine block, but Felix was quicker. The battle mage made an incomprehensible hissing noise, and shot forward faster then Edge could lob magic, throwing his entire body at Coffee to wrap himself around his much thinner structure. Felix clenched his eyes shut as they slipped into a trace, gold and yellow magic like bright star dust before they reappeared safely on the other side as the SUV barreled passed.

Felix reappeared skidding low on his knees, ripping the knees of his jeans out, leaving the skin bloodied and ripped as he slammed into the back of a parked car with the side of his shoulder. Felix winced, taking the damage as he curled around Coffee’s thin frame, tucking him safely into his chest when Felix bounced off the car.

Coffee held on tight, tucking his head into Felix’s chest, clutching at his jacket tight enough to almost rip through it with sharp claws, unshed tears pool beneath his clenched sockets and grit his teeth. Edge felt relief so heavy, so real it almost dropped him to his knees, made him feel queasy, feel surprise that Felix had put himself at risk to save Coffee. That a human would have put himself in harms way to save a monster, knows that Felix could have been killed, hurt at least, for Coffee. The selfless act makes something unwind in Edge’s soul, makes him feel a mixture of nausea and confusion. Almost giddy elation that Coffee was fine, unharmed because Felix had saved him. 

He’s so focused on the fact that Coffee is _alive,_ he misses Sans summoning a bone construct at the SUV’s back end to stop it, but flinches when he hears the hiss of magic and the screech of metal snapping.

The SUV skidded to a stop as the bone shot up through it’s rear axel, snapping the metal and Lilith is already storming to the driver with cold fury in her eyes before it even skids to a stop; the driver had been going far too fast in such a populated area, playing on a cell phone and nearly killed one of Edge’s people.

Part of him yearns to follow her, give the driver a piece of his own damn mind, but it’s a comfort to see magic spark at her fingers and he can feel her fury from where he is. He settles, even as his skull begins to pound, as she reaches the driver window and even if he can’t hear the words, he can hear the tone.

Good. It’s not a pleased tone.

Felix pops back to his feet, surprisingly steady, carefully helping Coffee to his own, his voice a little winded with panic, “It’s okay! We’re okay, are you okay?”

Coffee is panting hard as Felix helps him settle onto his feet, still gripping hard onto Felix’s coat; Felix’s hands firm but gentle as he helps Coffee find his balance. Edge can see him nearing a panic attack as his hands shake, and he wonders if it may have been a bad idea to bring Coffee with them. He had been so excited to be _allowed_ to come, and Edge regrets for letting his first time on the surface be a negative one.

He should have been watching out for Coffee, should have made sure that he was safe. He was distracted, and it nearly ended with Coffee being hit by a car. His soul presses inwards, his skull throbs again with a mix of panic and terror, and there’s so many people around.

Edge pushes it down when Coffee gives Felix a teary nod, trembling under Felix’s careful hands as the mage checks him over and his shirt says _scared guy_.

Felix breaths a sigh of relief when he finds no injuries, not even a scrapped knee and flashes Coffee a bright grin as his own heals, “Okay, good. You’re going to hold my hand, ‘kay?” and he carefully took Coffee’s gloved hand and linked their fingers together tightly.

Coffee nodded, still shaking as Felix lead him back across the aisle to the trembling girls, hand still held tightly, “It’s okay. It’s all good.” He reassures them with a grin, but Edge can see how his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s he’s been just as shaken by this, “You guys are going to stay right by my side, like ducklings.”

The girls all nod, clustering around Coffee as Felix keeps him on the inside of the aisle, keeping himself on the more dangerous side by the moving cars. Edge appreciates that, that Felix is keeping them safe at his own risk, and it helps him relax.

Lilith comes back, crimson fading from her eyes and a steering wheel in her hand, drawing confused looks from Sin and Edge as she walks with that weird predatory grace as she hands the steering wheel to Coffee without a word.

He takes it with equal silence, but the terror falls from his face a little in place with confusion as he takes it from the mage. Tucking it into his inventory, Lilith turns to walk back to the others, Felix following her still holding Coffee’s hand tightly.

“What the fuck?” Sin mutters to Edge, just as confused, head titled with a raised brow as they watch her approach.

What the fuck indeed.

“It’s a battle mage thing.” Sans chimes in suddenly between them, fury still in his eyes. His voice suddenly by their sides makes Sin jump, startled by someone who moves on silent feet and short cuts.

Sans grins up at him, bright and darkly amused as Sin curses him, “Fucking goblin, how do you move like that?”

Sans’s voice is pleased as he shrugs, but his eye lights are still filled with anger, “Well, you’re an assassin, right? You had to get it from some where, yeah?”

Sin rolls his eyes, but Edge squints at this soft version of his brother, “What do you mean battle mage thing?”

“Battle mages are viciously protective of their Den.” He says mildly, then seems to tense a little as if he realizes what he’s just said so plainly before he adds, “And we’re bonded to keep you safe. I suppose same rules apply, but when someone tries for a life of a Den mate, battle mages tend to bring prices of their kills to the nearly harmed member.”

Edge squints at Sans and his wide grin, “And this applies to,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “Charges as well?”

Sans shrugs, “Must be.” There’s something more, something Edge is missing, “Come on, lets get inside.”

He turns on the balls of his feet as Lilith walks by, reaching for her hand to hold as they follow Sloan. Sin huffed a sigh, moving to follow along, Edge more hesitant, knowing that something isn’t right with what Sans has said, but can’t quite place what.

Glancing at the driver of the SUV as they pass, Edge doesn’t feel bad for the shocked blonde women who’s staring blankly at the spot where the steering wheel _used_ to be, not when she almost killed one of his.

He also doesn’t feel bad when Felix walks by, shadowy claws digging into the side of the glossy paint job with a horrifying screech and sparks as he tares into the metal. She flinches at the sound, but doesn’t dare say anything, even when he gives her a sharp, cold smirk and a little wave as they pass.

If anything, Edge takes comfort in the fact that the mages are taking their care seriously, and any suspicion is let go as he follows them into the mall.

-

If Edge thought he hated the mall from the outside, he _loathed_ it from the inside.

Never again he swore, never again. If Mercy wanted to go shopping at the mall again, either one of the mages or Red could be her guard, because he was _never coming back_.

The mall was packed, not quite shoulder to shoulder, but far busier than Edge had ever experienced before. In Snowdin, _his_ Snowdin, was nearly empty, the air left you choking on dust and citizens danced around him to give him a large berth.

Not here, no the population here hurried around him quickly, buzzing around like worker bees; and yes some did give the mages weird looks or avoided them all together, but most simply ignored them. They continued their shopping, carried on with their day no different from anyone else.

Yet, there was just so many people in such a tight space, his soul pulsed in claustrophobic panic that he barely swallowed back. There was also just _so much_! Restaurants filled with rich, flavorful smells of delicious food being cooked, booked stores filled to the brim with crisp, clean hard and soft covered books, things that didn’t need to be scavenged from the dump, and clothing stores filled with colors and options.

His soul pulsed with panic at the variety, the options, tried not to think of the thin, starving faces of the children in Snowdin. It hurt, when there was so much here, and so little back home.

A marketplace filled with fresh fruit and vegetables only seemed to hit this point home, and a butcher from Ebott with fresh cuts of meat, that would move outside once the weather warmed; but if what Sloan said was true, there was a butcher and a grocer near Muffet’s café that had better produce. 

They’d dragged him to an art store for Coffee to fawn over notebooks and pens. There are different types, apparently, better ones, evidently, that had Coffee excited. Or as excited as Coffee could show himself to be, nearly vibrating with happiness and his shirt flashed _happy guy_.

Felix had melted at that gentle delight that Coffee seemed to express, buying him the pens and notebooks while the others milled around patiently. It had been such a simple act of kindness that nearly brought Coffee to tears and made that soft core inside Felix press inward further, piling more markers and pens into the basket if it made him happy.

Lilith ended up guarding over Sans while they waited when he fell asleep leaning against a display case after he decided that napping there seemed to be the best idea. Much like Red, he lacked stamina and left idle for any length of time would fell asleep any where that seemed even remotely comfortable. Lilith hadn’t batted an eye as she stood next to him like a guard, crimson eyes following anyone who dare get to close to Sans, any softness or kindness gone from her cold expression. She didn’t seem to mind that Sans had just decided to nap, pressed up a glass display of overly expensive pens, drooling a little against the glass and she just let him sleep, much like Red does.

It had irritated Edge for a long time, longer then he was willing to admit before he realized that a lot of his brothers’ problems were due to low HP, and Mercy falling into their world opened it up further. It had surprised him to learn that Red may not simply be lazy, but a lot of his issues from depression, something that was exhausting to deal with, especially when he hadn’t truly recovered from his trauma from Underfell.

After the art store, Hope had wanted to go to the music store, then Frisk the toy shop after that, the majority of the group following along at the whims of children; Sloan and Sin had made good their escape early to purchase clothing for the group, leaving the rest of them to follow along three little girls.

Edge’s skull throbbed, like someone was shanking his socket with something long and sharp as his soul rumbled unhappily. It was loud and crowed in the mall, the space tightly packed, and again there was just so much of everything.

It made anxiety pulse in his chest, pain stripping him down to his core and he lacked the vocabulary to tell the others that he wanted to go home. He had a duty, a promised to keep Mercy and Hope safe, and he would see it done.

Even if he was overwhelmed by everything here on the surface, exhausted by pain and his mind kept wandering to the starving faces of memory; the children of Underfell starved under the leadership of their tyrant and here _there was just so much_ and he just couldn’t shake that thought.

It hurt, everything on the surface hurt, the light, the crowds, the sheer number of things to have, food to eat and entertainment.

It made his soul shiver, made it hard to think or breath, and Edge pressed long, sharp fingers to his temple and he tried to breath though the sharp pain in his skull. His soul feeling like it was trying to claw its way out of his rib cage.

He was in the middle of an aisle while Felix was pointing at something behind a glass case, chatting excited about it with Frisk, Mercy, Hope and Coffee, Frisk nodding along with his words. They were happy and excited, that’s what mattered, not that he felt like he was going to vomit. Their needs, their happiness came first, it always needed to come first.

He could endure a little longer. 

“Edge?” her startles when Sans is suddenly by his side, awake and bright eye’d, his permanent grin falling a little in concern, “Are you okay?”

He tries to say something, anything, and he’s humiliated when it comes out in a gurgled, wet whine that makes Sans’s frown deepen. The worry turns full blown concern when he quietly says, “Your eye lights are two different sizes.” He sounds nervous, “Are you having a panic attack?”

Edge had no idea, maybe, and could only shrug helpless to Sans.

He nods, brow furrowing, “Okay,” he glances to where his hand presses into his temple, and Sans’s eye lights brighten, “Are you having a migraine?” 

Observant little brat, and that much Edge is sure he’s having. He makes another little, wet gurgle when he nods. Sans nods back, hands painfully careful as he reaches for Edge’s elbow and turns him away from the kids, “Okay come on.” He pauses to call out over his shoulder, “Felix, I gotta take Edge,” he hesitates, looking for words that would save his pride, “To the washroom.” He finishes lamely.

Felix looks up confused, brow furrowing until he catches sight of Edge and winces, “Got it. I’ve got the kids.”

Sans nods, “Come on. Let’s get you back to the car.” He says with that same painful gentleness that makes Edge’s soul squeeze with failure.

He can’t afford this kindness, he’s sure.

Sans is on the phone with Lilith quick enough, telling her what’s happened and he’s short cutting them back to her Jeep before Edge can raise a protest, asking to walk until it’s too late; he hates the fact that he can’t shortcut as easily as any of the others, that on the best days it him nauseated. With a migraine it has him vomiting by the back tires of Lilith’s car, spilling spoiled magic in a gross puddle as he leans heavily against the metal.

Sans is next to him, hand patting his lower spine as he quietly tells him, “Sorry! Sorry, I forget that not everyone can short cut.” he grimaces a little, looks guilty, “Lilith is shit at short cuts too, she still gets nauseous.” 

It’s just one more humiliation, one more thing to make this just a little worse. Penance, perhaps, for accepting this kindness when Edge knows he can’t pay it all back.

Edge likes to be able to pay his dept, likes to know what things will cost him to make sure he can afford it. Kindness like this, it doesn’t come cheap.

“You realize,” It’s Lilith’s voice, soft and monotone as she nears them, “We’ve just left Felix alone with no adult supervision.”

“Coffee’s an adult.” Sans calls back to her, and Edge hates that he can hear the smile in his voice, although he can’t say why.

Lilith snorts, “I don’t think Coffee’s adultness can withstand Felix’s foolishness. You need to be like a level eight adult to handle Felix. At least.” She sighs, but hasn’t seen Edge puking his guts out, “Those kids are going to walk all over him, and he is going to buy so many things.”

It’s more resigned, amused, then annoyed as she comes around the Jeep, wincing when she sees him, “Are you okay Edge?”

He swallows thickly, his head spinning and his soul throbbing, “Great. Wonderful.” He fights to straighten his spine, to stand up to see her face twist with worry, “I’ve never been better.”

She nods slowly, frowning a little at him, eyes flickering to his scared face, making him feel self conscious, “You look like shit.” She tells him plainly, raising a brow.

He sighs at her, feeling sick and poorly, “Thanks.” His voice is flat, nearly annoyed.

Her cold face, lightens, her mouth quirking with a smirk, “Sorry,” she lifted the bags in her hand, “I got you some stuff, give me a sec and I’ll get you set up.” 

Tired and feeling weak from vomiting, Edge leans against her car, again feeling exhausted and confused, “You didn’t need to do that.”

Lilith shrugs as she opens the back seat and puts the seats down, “Yeah I know.” She pulls out a blanket to spread out over the back, following by another, “But I did.”

She tosses a pillow in after it before she steps back, nodding to the makeshift bed that she’s made in her Jeep. The guilt returns, making Edge’s soul feel heavy, “I can’t afford all of this.”

It makes Sans and Lilith both pause, and they frown at him; they share a quick glance, saying things with their eyes that Edge doesn’t understand before Lilith speaks, “Consider it a gift. An apology for uh. Breaking your leg. And your arm.”

“And ribs.” Sans added brightly, and Lilith winced.

“Yeah ribs too.” She adds, and Edge stares at them. He doesn’t know who to react, what the social protocol is here, if this does make them even. He doesn’t understand why they’re so nice to him.

Lilith squirms, “Edge, come on. Your eye lights are literally different sizes, your vomiting. You’re not well, come on, get some sleep.”

He shifts uncomfortably, so Sans adds, “We’ll stay with you. Make sure your safe, and stuff.”

In the end, Edge relents. Knows he really doesn’t have another option, knows they’re right, he’s not well.

He knows they’re right but just doesn’t know what to do with all this kindness they keep offering.

In the end, he crawls into the makeshift bed in the back of the Jeep; it’s hot and uncomfortable in the vehicle but being alone settles his soul. It’s still too bright outside, the sun like sharp little knifes in his skull when Lilith climbs into the front seat of the Jeep, pulling out a silk sleeping mask from one of her bags and hands it to him.

Edge takes the silky mask, frowning in a mixture of annoyance, humor, and gratefulness. No one had ever gotten him something for his own comfort beyond Red, and even then, it would have only been for their immediate survival. Nothing frivolous, nothing without a purpose. Certainly, nothing that would just make him feel better.

He runs a boney, sharp thumb over the silk, wishing he had his gloves, amused by the bright pink silk and the thick black lettering that declared _Bad Ass Bitch_. Feeling poorly or not, it still brought a weak smile to his sharp teeth.

Sans laughs out loud and it makes Lilith go bright red. She coughs to clear her throat, “That was the only one they had, sorry.”

Edge shrugs, sees the gift, the meaning behind it for what it was. She was trying to make him feel better by blocking out the sun, “Thank you.”

They each give him a grin, and something eases in Edge’s soul. He’s safe here, he realizes, actually safe here, that these two will keep him safe.

Laying down, Edge slips on the mask, setting his pounding skull against the soft pillow that Lilith had gotten for him, his stomach settling at last. One last peek up front, he softened into his makeshift bed when he saw Lilith put her seat back, feet up on the dashboard and Sans nestled into her body to nap. Lilith stayed awake to guard over them, playing on her cell phone, and Edge relaxed when he saw her look up when someone walked by, eyes tracking a potential threat before going back to her phone.

Edge relaxed, and allowed himself to be pulled down to sleep, finding peace at a long last. Safe with the mage and her soft little boy friend.

-

Hours later, Edge was back in the infirmary, new mask in hand, _his_ blankets and pillow, things that belonged to him were now on his cot as he snuggled into his bed. Felix and Lilith had helped him back up the stairs to rest, putting him right back to bed from which they found him earlier today.

He knew, _knew_ that Mercy would be safe with them, they’d take care of her, promising she could give Edge the gift she’d found him once he had some sleep.

Part of Edge had been grateful that Lilith had been right, the three little girls in their numbers had Felix wrapped around their tiny fingers, poking at that rarely found soft core and he’d bought Mercy and Hope their own Switches to play with Frisk. Then, because he was soft as fuck, Edge was sure, he had gotten one for Coffee as well, and an assortment of games.

Things they could play together and alone, depending on what they wanted, and they were setting up their game’s downstairs.

Lilith and Sans had _tucked_ him in after they made up his bed, soft and comfortable, his new mask fitted over his sockets to block out the light completely. They had turned out the lights to help him sleep, Sans or Lilith, Edge wasn’t sure which one, had patted his shoulder as they left, leaving him to sleep off his migraine.

He was drifting off again, in a much more comfortable room then the back seat of Lilith’s Jeep, when his brother groaned and called out, “Paps?”

Edge felt his soul jump, terror and excitement waring in his soul that at long last his brother was awake. Pushing himself up to an elbow, he pulled off his mask, wincing at the dim sun light that filtered in through the window, “Red?”

Red’s skull tilted over to Edge, squinting weakly at his brother, eye lights barely lit with exhaustion; they faded away to nothing, but Red swallowed hard, fighting to stay away, “Where are we?”

His voice is thick, his accent heavy and Edge feels weak with relief. He pushes himself to sit at the edge of his bed with a wince, leaning over to grasp his brother’s knee, just to touch him and anchor himself, “Your awake.” Its obvious but saying it out loud makes Edge feel better.

“Yeah.” His words slur like he’s been drinking, “How long was I out?”

Edge shrugs, “Days. You gave Mercy quite the scare.”

Red huffs a broken laugh, weak and tried, “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn mean ta.” He swallows again, his dry throat clicking, the crimson magic that keeps him alive, donated from Lilith is bright in its little plastic tubes that feed into his soul, “What’s happened?” 

Edge sighed, gave his brother’s knee another squeeze, just to touch him and know he wasn’t dust, “It’s a long story. I’ll explain when your feeling a little better.” Red grunts, sockets already sinking back shut, “But we’re in a world where the monster made it to the surface.” Red grunts again, letting Edge know he was still listening, “There are mages here.”

That makes Red’s sockets open, flaring weakly with anger and shock, “What?”

Edge shakes his head, “We’ve come to an agreement. They’re…” Edge pauses, trying to find the words to describe these creatures that were equal parts compassionate and ferocity, “Kind.”

It makes Red’s eye light’s flare in annoyance and anger, sockets narrowing on Edge, “What have I thought you about kindness little brother?” his words are scolding, and for a moment Edge feels like a child again getting one of his older brother’s harsh life lessons. Lessons, that kept them alive in Underfell.

Despite his own pain, Edge straightens, “This is different, _brother_.” He snaps back, earning a snort from Red.

His sockets are sinking low, “You’re growing soft brother. It’s the fucking kid.”

Edge felt a swell of anger, his head throbbing, “ _Mercy_ is not the cause of this! You know what we’ve suffered to keep her safe, what we’ve lost. She hasn’t made me soft.”

Red snorts again, and Edge resists the urge to sigh and give his brother a metaphorical win, “Don trust em Edge.” Red told him softly, sleep dragging him back under, “Ya can’t trust kindness. They want something.”

Edge sighs only when Red passes out again, his own skull throbbing as he moves slowly back to his own cot. He pauses, knows that is brother isn’t wrong, that kindness isn’t to be trusted, but that’s kindness in their world. Kindness from Underfell came with a price, often a high price that Edge and Red had suffered for when they were forced into accepting it.

Kindness in their world always came with a high price.

This wasn’t their world. This was a world where the monsters made it to the surface and Sans was in love with a powerful mage that had tossed him around like a ragdoll but was kind enough to get him something to ease his pain. Odd creatures, mages.

He pulled the mask back down over his sockets, silky smooth over his bone to block out the light. His brother was wrong in this case, the mages weren’t so bad and even it he doesn’t trust it completely, there’s something about them that eases something inside of Edge. He can’t explain it, why he feels safe here, what about the mages that unknot something in his soul. Something that brings warmth to his cold soul, and he knows he’s okay here.

There’s something about the mages he doesn’t understand, something he’s missing. There’s something about their kindness that isn’t like the kindness from Underfell. This feels real, like perhaps there’s no strings attached here.

Edge settles into his cot with the blankets that were _his_ , something that belonged to him and he didn’t need to share; the mask was soft on his skull, a kindness that had never been bestowed on him before.

Edge slipped into a peaceful sleep, one that lacked nightmares and his soul unusually soft with the kindness he’d be shown.


	8. Meals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix does a kindness, and Nightmare gets the chance to feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all staying safe as things are starting to re-open around the world. 
> 
> A new chapter this week, and there's some warnings in this one. I've updated the tags, so please take a moment to read them if needed. 
> 
> WARNING: Mild description of broken bones, a monster consuming flesh/a soul, stalking and hunting. Over all cruelty. Implied rape/non-con, this is not heavily described but heavily suggested.

Felix tries to hide his delight as he slowly makes his way to the infirmary, tries not to let it show that, yeah, okay he had been wrong about their Doom and Gloom crew, as Sloan had coined the term. Hope and Coffee were at least okay, and sure, the kid made him laugh. Maybe Coffee was sorta cute and soft, and charming in a skeleton sort of way, with the way he would light up when Felix chatted with him.

And Queen Toriel had hurt him, Felix saw those deep, brutal scars and that surged something protective and vicious inside. Magic heavy when instinct demanded that he protect his Den mate, that he dole out vengeance to anyone who dare hurt him. Surely it meant nothing, even as his vice pressed against the walls of its box, his mouth watered with heavy magic and he knows one day he’s going to enjoy pulling Queen Toriel’s soul out of her chest for what she did to Coffee. Someone had hurt the sweet monster, and she was going to pay for it, even if she didn’t know it yet.

It hadn’t taken Coffee long to worm his way under Felix’s harsh armor of vicious intent, hours maybe, armed only with a gentle, shy smile and kind eye lights; the way he looked delighted when Felix had bought him sketch book, pens, and a notebook to scribble notes in. Okay sure, maybe Felix still had the first little note that said _think you_ written in bright neon pink ink carefully folded into his back pocket.

It didn’t mean anything, surely.

Just like seeing Hope light up in delight when Felix bought them all games to play and Coffee accept the gift with a bashful nod, didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything that when they sat down to play Mario Kart, after he and Lilith had dragged Edge back up stairs to sleep, Coffee had sat down next to him to play.

It did mean anything that he _liked_ the warm line of a thin skeletal body pressed against his own, warm and real as fingers moved quickly over their controls as they played, Coffee’s face soft and warm with a hesitant smile.

It doesn’t matter, Felix knows. He knows he falls fast for a pretty face, _that’s_ gotten him in trouble more then once, and so what if he’s got a bit of a crush on the thinner version of Papyrus? So what if he thought Coffee was cute, and when he had almost been hit by the car yesterday, Felix had felt terror he didn’t think he _could_ feel anymore. Terror so thick and heavy, that it had taken concentrated effort to keep the demon back from pulling the drivers head off with its teeth.

So _what_ if he liked the feeling of a long thin body in his arms, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter because Felix _knows_ he can’t keep Coffee. Sloan is right, Nightmare is a danger that they can’t risk to their own world, and when it’s time to say good bye, Felix will set them off with a smile and a bag of all the shit he’s bought them. What he’s be able to provide in their short time together.

Even if his soul twists at the thought, worries that someone will hurt them again and the demon inside roils, he pushes it down and ignores it. He’s a pro at doing shit he doesn’t want to and ponders that now maybe a good time to try the dating scene again.

At least someone trying to kill him was normal and it sure as fuck hurt less.

Besides, one-night stands and causal flings didn’t come with sad eye lights and scars that made magic spark at Felix’s fingers and something _cruel_ rise from his chest and blood lust flood his mouth. He’d _love_ to have a chat with Queen Toriel of their world, a shot chat really. He’d hardly take up a lot of her time.

He swallows down his anger, his throbbing fury that pulses in his dark soul, as he steps up onto the landing to the third floor, where the infirmary is perched high and got the best sun light. Put here by design to help boost the mood of anyone laying banged up in the infirmary; Lola says that patients do better and recover faster when given natural sunlight. Felix knows that he’s been under a healers tender love n’ care enough to know that when your unconscious, natural light means about the same as shit.

But, what did he know, he never could grasp the art of healing magic.

Swinging around the banister, Felix pauses with a frown and tries not to acknowledge the sudden swell of guilt when he sees Lilith and Sans. She hasn’t seen him yet, not when she’s got Sans pressed into the wall and nuzzling a gentle kiss against his throat.

Sans hasn’t seen him either; his skull tipped back, exposing his throat to his mate, long, thin fingers grasping at her shoulders tightly and sockets half lidded.

Felix looks away, feels a blush unexpectedly scald his face; Lilith has softened a lot since Sans came into their lives. She’s not quiet always on edge, still always ready for a fight but more relaxed and happier to dole out affection to Sans when ever the mood struck them. He was the same, and it wasn’t uncommon for Sans to wander in wherever Lilith was for a kiss or to cuddle when he was needing affection.

Felix also knew that just because Lilith was more relaxed at home, that didn’t make her any less vicious. If anything, she was more so when it came to protecting Sans, if Edge’s knee was anything to go by.

Clearing his throat, Felix put on his best amused smirk, even when his soul prickled with guilt and sadness. Guilt that he was still fighting with Lilith and sadness that he didn’t have what they did.

Fuck, he needed to get laid and stop feeling sorry for himself. So what if he didn’t have anyone to love on?

Lilith looked up from Sans’s throat, and Felix hates how quickly her expression closes off, and knows it’s because she’s still ticked at him, “You know, you have a room right?”

Straightening, Lilith crosses her arms over her chest and her eyes become colder, “Sure I do.” And Felix hates that flat monotone, “Never stopped me before.”

Sans straightens his shirt, skull scalding blue at being caught, and Felix gives him an amused smirk before going back to Lilith, “Well, if you two are done necking in the hall way like high schoolers, can I borrow you?”

Lilith’s eyes narrow at him, but it’s Sans who speaks first, “Yeah, if you two are going to _chat_ , I’m outta here.” No need for him to be involved when battle mages needed to work out their differences. He didn’t need to be in the crossfire. He gives Lilith a cheeky grin, “Don’t hurt him too much.” 

Felix frowns, and any retort that, yeah, he could hold his own thanks, was lost when Sans sidestepped into a short cut and disappeared. Felix squirmed under his sister’s harsh glare and cold expression, and couldn’t remember the last time she had been this irritated with him. Long before Frisk, that much he was sure.

Well, it was better to pull the band aid off quick for this sort of thing, “I’m sorry.” He blurts, and that softened Lilith’s face by leaps and bounds, not expecting an apology. He almost smirked, knowing his next words were going to throw her completely, “You were right.”

She quirks a brow at him, knows how fucking stubborn he can be and knows he’s showing his belly really quick here, “Did that hurt you to say?” the ice from his voice has thawed, and Felix relaxes.

“Physically, yes.” He tells her with a smirk and a nod, “But.” He shrugs, his gut twisting, “I shouldn’t have said we should let them die. That wasn’t alright. And, and some of them are okay.”

Lilith gives him a smirk, knows she victorious in a fight nether wanted to be in but she lets him continue. Knows that it’s harder for him to voice his emotions and he’d digging deep for this, “It was mean and unnecessary, and I’m sorry I suggested it.” He gives a little sigh and looks down to hide his embarrassment, “I’m sorry I took it out on you. I was. Scared.” He admits lowly, and from the corner of his eyes he can see Lilith drop out of her defensive stance, “They took you and Sans, and I thought I’d never see you guys again. I thought they’d hurt you, or something worse, and when you came back I was so angry. I,” he paused, swallowed hard and tried to ignore the swell of emotion from his core, “I let you guys down. And. I’m sorry.”

The smirk has fallen from Lilith’s face, her expression unreadable as Felix awaits his judgement, hoping that she’s not too angry. Lilith sighs gently, softening as she drops completely out of her tense posture, “You didn’t fail me Felix. It happened and it’s over now, and now we have these broken Den mates who need us.” He nods at her words, his soul lightening when her voice warms, “Thank you, for apologizing.” She says quietly, just as uncertain in these waters as he is, “I was pretty upset by how you reacted to them.”

Yeah, he was a jerk and nearly starting a fight in the infirmary was pretty stupid, and nods in agreement. “I’m not mad anymore.” She finishes quietly.

Nodding again, Felix finally looks up and offers a hesitant grin, “So, we, good?” 

Lilith grinned back, hands going to her pockets to show that yeah, she was relaxing with him, “Yeah, we’re good.”

Felix brightens and softens, giving her a sunny grin, “Thanks Lili.”

He crossed the hall to her, and he grins when Lilith nudges his arm; just like that, they’re okay. Water under the bridge, and Felix feels better to have his sister back on his side, “Well, lets go annoy our new friends.”

Lilith snorts, falling in step with him to the infirmary, and Felix feel something ease in his soul, a knot untie itself when he has his sister back on his side. They pass Nightmare on their way to the infirmary, looking tired and miserable, ignoring them as he shuffles past when they brightly wish him good morning.

Lilith snorts as he disappears down the stairs and from their sight, “He’s going to be a coffee addict by the time he leaves.” She sounds amused and not at all sorry, making Felix chuckle as he steps past the infirmary thresh hold with a grin.

He nods to Sans as he’s checking Edge’s temperature and is pleased when Sans nods back. Okay, good, he’s back on the level with Sans too.

Turning to the opposite corner, Felix grins when he sees Coffee, who brightens when he sees Felix and his smile almost cheerful when he gives a shy wave to Felix.

Relaxing further into his loose stance, Felix waves back, an almost soft, dopey grin on his face when he does, a light blush rising at his nose.

Lilith steps next to him as Coffee looks down bashfully and Felix lowers his hand to slip back into his pocket. Dark eyes glance to Coffee, then to Felix with a grin, “Ohhhh Felix.” She sounds almost viciously amused, “You’re in trouble.”

He tares his eyes away from Coffee, giving his sister a confused look, “What?”

Her smirk is sharp with amusement, “War fell in love with a skinny skeleton man.” Felix frowns when she mimics words he had said to her, not so long ago.

Felix goes redder, brow furrowing, “What? No I’m not.”

“You’re blushing.” Lilith points out, viciously amused, her grin only growing.

“No, I’m not!” he’s too quick to protest, his face only growing hotter.

“Hey Felix, how many bones does a skeleton have?” Lilith asked with what can only be described as growing amusement as he glares at her, throwing back words at him he served to her. “I dunno, you better go count them.” She tells him brightly before he can respond.

He gives her a flat glare, giving her the finger before he shuffles past, “You’re an asshole.” He mutters to her, refusing to call what he’s doing a sulk. He’s not pouting, he’s not.

Lilith only laughs at him before she makes her way over to Sans and Edge, still looking amused when she lays a hand over Edge’s forehead. She winces at the temperature, shifting from annoying her brother to concern over Edge’s sudden fever.

Felix huffs, leaves her to it and knows he probably deserves to be teased. Fate knew he annoyed Lilith _a skele-ton_ when she first started dating Sans, knows he’s going to get it back ten-fold because of a stupid little crush.

Ah well, there are worse fates.

Easing into the stool near Coffee, Felix gives him a grin, “Moring ‘Fee. Sleep alright?”

The lanky skeleton smiles and nods happily, hand knotting in his lap before going to his note pad, _Slept Good_ his writing is neat and curly as his mouth pulled into a small grin _Hope went to shower._

Felix nods, that explains the missing half of his personal peanut gallery. Coffee hesitates, before he writes something else, _Could I shower too?_

He feels his heart clench when soft gold eye lights glance to his sleeping brother, worry passing over his features. Wine still hadn’t woken since they landed on their doorstep, even Red had woken at one point, as briefly as it was, as sick as he is, but Wine stubbornly stayed unconscious.

Coffee is worried, Felix can see that much and his soul hurts. He still gives Coffee is best smile, warm and inviting, “I’ll watch Wine.” He glances around the room, sees that Glass is missing and probably showering too, “If you go down one flight of stairs, go right, third door down on the left. There’s another bathroom there, should be empty.”

Felix feels himself going a little red, and he clears his throat, “It’s uh. It’s the bathroom I tend to use, so use whatever you like in there.”

Coffee brightens again, sharp teeth pulling into a brief smile as he quickly writes out another quick note, _Thank you_

Clearing his throat, tries to fight down the glowing blush across his face that is slowly scalding his throat, “No problem. Clean towels are in the closet in the bathroom.” He mutters, scratching at the back of his neck as there’s a flush of embarrassment that has the demon inside laughing at him.

Turns out, everyone’s a comedian.

Coffee nods again, still bright and light, before he’s up and slowly shuffling from the room with another small, hesitant wave.

Felix watches him go with, feels a wash of softness over his soul, and yeah. Okay, he’s in trouble with this stupid little crush of his. It’ll pass in a few days, no doubt, once he got the flirting out of his system.

He ignores Lilith’s bright smirk, and Sans’s accusing grin, the jerks, turning his attention carefully back to Wine and his broken body. No need to think of cute faces or soft looks, nope. None at all.

He focused on what needed to be done, carefully changing Wines bandages, hands slow and methodical, gentle with the thin bones in his hands. They almost remind him of how a bird is built, thin and delicate, Wine easily the smallest Sans in their group and Felix is extremely gentle with him.

“You’ve done a kindness to Coffee.” The words startle Felix, drawing dark eyes to Sugar.

The big, broken version of Papyrus is hunched up near his brother again, looking sad and hurt, and Felix frowned at him a little. Gore is awake, barely, sitting up, but leaning weakly against Crow.

Dark eyes glance to the feral version of Sans who looks calmer then he has since they ended up here; sockets half lidded with an arm around Gore. Felix looks back to Sugar, and gives him the same smile, “Well, of course. We promised to look out for you all, yeah?”

Sugar squirms, glances to his brother, who’s arms are still wrapped in healing gauze, “I suppose.” He scratches nervously at his teeth, and something about it makes something inside Felix’s chest compress. This big, scary looking version of Papyrus, is a scared fucking cinnamon roll, still sporting injures from his own world.

“Paps?” Gore’s voice is thick and tired, slurred as he sways a little, a broken hand tugging insistently at his empty socket. The other eye light is wide and blood red, and something about it make Felix sad. He fights with himself to not look over at Sans, whole and safe next to Lilith, he doesn’t want to call Gore broken but it’s hard not to compare, “I’m hungry.”

Sugar sighs, his massive hand reaching for and gently pulling Gore’s hand out of his socket. Crow watches the exchange passively, leaning back into Gore’s frame with a lazy huff. “Brother.” Sugar softly scolds, “You know your not supposed to pull at your socket, it’s bad for you!”

Gore blinks at him with a large, blob of red, his smile hazy, “Oops. I forgot.” His words are slow, and he focuses carefully one each one.

Sugar sighs again, “That’s quite the thing to forget!” he huffs, gently laying Gore’s hand in his lap, “And it’s Sugar. Remember brother? We relinquished our names when we joined Nightmare.”

Gore blinks again, slower this time, squints as if he’s focusing hard, “Right.” He says slowly, blinking hard in thought. “Right!” Gore says again, turning a lop-sided smile up at Sugar, “I’m,” he pauses again, concentrates hard, “Gore.” And his smile turns mischievous, “Because I’m…” he focuses really hard now before the words studder out, “ _Gore_ -gouse!”

The look of sheer _pride_ on his face, hurts Felix’s soul all the more. Such a simple play on words, and he struggled to get it out. Felix smiles even as Sugar huffs an annoyed sigh, and from the corner Sans laughs.

Gore puffs up in pleasure, looking pleased with himself before another bout of exhaustion has him leaning back in against Crow, “I’m still hungry Sug.”

The voice is small and the words sadly said when Sugar deflates, “I know brother. I know you are, but I have nothing to eat.”

Gore shrinks in on himself, swollen eye light falling to his broken arms, “Oh.”

Felix feels his soul squeeze at that small, sad, tiny word, and he _knows_ he can’t get attached. He can’t. He can’t keep any of them, he needs to send these Den mates away when this is all done, and he can’t get attached to them.

“You know.” He says lazily, drawing their dark and broken gazes and _Felix_ tries not to shiver under Crow’s heavy gaze, “I have a granola bar in my inventory. You can have it if you want.”

Crow gives him a suspicious look, dark sockets narrowed in a glare even as Gore’s sockets went wide, his voice even smaller, “Really?”

Felix nodded and it feels like it isn’t enough, “Yeah really. Tide you over until breakfast.”

Gore just stares at him, sockets wide and his one eye light a bright red blob, “We can have breakfast?”

Fuck, these guys were actually going to kill him, his soul is going to just give out at how _hurt_ they are. How such simple things mean the world to them, “Yeah. We’re going to have breakfast.”

Gore is nodding desperately, eyes wide, mouth agape as he sits up straighter in his cot like a little dog sitting pretty. Trying to be a good boy to get his good boy treat. It hurt Felix’s heart, it’s the only way he can describe the tight ball in his chest, it has to be sadness.

Pulling the granola bar out of his inventory, Felix stands to cross the small space between them, Sugar going tense as he reaches out to hand the bar to Gore. His eyes go wide, and Felix freezes as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end as Gore’s look becomes something feral. Something ravenous as he snatches the bar from his hands, ripping into it with his teeth. Gore suddenly hunching down and around his snack, devouring it messily, looking up at Felix with a constricted eye light in challenge as if he might take it back.

Felix knows the signs of someone who had suffered from starvation, a desperate need to guard their food, no matter how much was provided. It was almost wild the way Gore ate, taring into the granola bar, wrapper and all as he ate from his hands.

Felix wasn’t stupid enough to press his luck, and just like when working with Hell Hounds, he knew better then to try to move quickly around someone who valued food over all else; he lowered his eyes submissively and _very_ slowly pulled his hand away.

Crow laughed, eyes dark and amused, his words just as careful and measured, “Careful mage. He’ll take your hand off.”

Sugar squirmed, as if he expected Felix to strike him, Crow certainly looked like he was tensing for an attack, his crooked smile wide and challenging when Felix took a step back, “Duly noted.” He said quietly, taking another slow step back.

The grin fell from Crow’s mouth, brow furrowing in confusion when Felix didn’t lash out, didn’t try to hurt and that as much makes Felix’s soul twist. No one moves until Felix is back in his stool by Wine as Gore finishes his granola bar, licking his fingers clean with happy little sighs.

“Brother,” Sugar scolds softly, “There is no need to eat so violently! It’s rude!”

A finger still in his mouth, Gore blinked up at Sugar, his eye light softening even as Crow continues to level a confused glare, “Sorry…bro. It was just so good.” He sounds wistful and with longing, “Do we really get breakfast?”

Sugar sighs, “Yes Gore, we do. Now, what do you say!”

Gore blinks up at Sugar, slow and deliberate before his face brightens. There are still sticky pieces of the bar across his mouth and his fingers, but he turns to Felix, concentrating very hard on his words, “Thank you…” he pauses, sockets squinting hard in thought, “Felix!”

He softens to this starving, broken version of Sans, oddly endeared as something protective boils hot in his chest, “You’re welcome Gore. When Ryder’s all done cooking, I’ll help take you and Sugar down for breakfast.”

Gore lights up further, like a kid on Christmas morning, and Felix _knows_ he’s in trouble, “Can Crow come too?”

Glancing to Crow, who has continued to level an even glare back at him, Felix nods, “Yeah, Crow can come too.”

Gore vibrates with excitement, broken hands reaching for Crow’s arm, giving it a little shake, “We can have breakfast!” its said with such joy and happiness, the even Crow’s passive, cold face breaks a little into the smallest grin and Felix could almost see Sans in that smile. 

Felix relaxed when Crow nods, dark, creepy eye lights drifting away and down as he relaxes back into Gore, “Okay.”

Slowly letting lose the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Felix sighs softly through his teeth and settles back beside Wine.

“That was unexpectedly kind human.” Felix looks up at the incredibly soft words, looks to Wine who still shivers on the bed and sweats, like he’s both too hot and too cold. His sockets are open only at a slit, one eye light dimly lit.

Offering him a small, crooked grin, Felix shrugged, “It’s a basic decency to give someone food when they’re hungry.”

Wine huffed a laugh, looked like it hurt him to make the noise, “Basic decency isn’t basic.” He rasped back, tired and in pain, “Everything comes with a price.”

Felix snorted, so he was beginning to learn with these monsters. Glancing back to Crow and Gore, who where leaning softly against each other, Sugar’s excited whispers about breakfast from the day before as he filled them in.

“Where’s my brother?” Wine’s raspy voice brings Felix’s eyes back to him, his grin having fallen looking at Gore and Crow.

“Showering. He won’t be long.” Wine nodded slowly at Felix’s words, shivering and wincing at the movement.

“Hope?” Wine seems like such a small, thin version of Sans, but his words are strong despite his fever and they don’t quiver.

“Also showering.” Felix tells him easily, “Probably using up all the hot water.” He sighs in faux sadness.

His words make Wine’s mouth twist in a small grin, and Felix feels something throb in his chest. He had never found Sans to be particularly cute, could have been that Lilith had laid claim on him long before Felix took a trip underground, but damn if Wine wasn’t adorable.

“No doubt.” Wine agrees that grin twisting at his mouth in a way that only Sanses could, “She has used all the hot water on us more then once in Snowdin.” His grin is gentle and amused, and it puts Felix at ease.

“Where are we?” the grin falls, and he looks exhausted and Felix wishes he could stay awake long enough for Coffee and Hope to see him. With any luck, he will.

“Safe.” Felix tells him confidently with a nod, believing his words, trusting in himself that yes, he could keep them safe.

The look that Wines gives him isn’t bitter, just sad, “No where is safe human.”

Felix grins, his eyes filling with gold magic, “You’ve never been under the protection of mages before.” He sates, watches that tired face twist into shock and surprise as his sockets widen before his expression twists into amusement.

The smile is closer to a real one, wide with sharp teeth but amused, “So, Nightmare did the impossible did he?”

From across the room, tucking Edge back into bed, Lilith snorts, shares an amused look with her brother, “Oh, he had help.” Felix tells him brightly, “I’m Felix.”

Wine blinks at him, pain staring to edge its way into Wine’s eye lights, but he still manages to smile up at Felix, pulling a thin, clawed hand out to offer, “Wine.” He rasps.

Felix takes his hand, it’s tiny and warm, and when Wine grins, it’s a real smile. Warm and genuine, the kind of smile that Sans flashes at Lilith when he thinks no one else is around, and Felix knows. _Knows_ with all his dark little soul, he’s in trouble.

-

Sitting at the kitchen table, Nightmare’s body throbs in agony and sickness with his head down in his hands; his stomach twists violently in warning and his mouth waters with excess magic. Sloan may have severed the tie with who ever, or what ever, attacked them but he still was full of painful light shards.

He cringes when another bought of nausea rolls though him, leaving him feeling shaky and ill, his magic watery and weak. His head aches with exhaustion, making his head fuzzy and his magic craves negativity. The light shards pulse painfully, hot and sharp, and his magic roils.

This world is too positive, too happy and warm, too full of love. It drained him as fast as the light shards, leaving him tired and weak. He heard Sloan’s gentle footsteps bring her into the dining room, feels her pull a chair out beside him and hears the soft scrap of a mug against wood as she pushes a cup of coffee over to him.

It brings his eye light up, dim and tired as Sloan opens a magazine, unafraid and soft, “How are you feeling?”

Her voice is soft and has a musical lithe to it, and Nightmare can’t remember the last time someone asked how he was doing. He gives her a small shrug, reaching for the cup of dark coffee, “Fine.” 

Not looking up from the glossy pages, Sloan nods, “Of course.” Nightmare grits his teeth at her words, an irritating mixture of nonchalance and fearless. She isn’t afraid of him, and somehow that rankles. “Do you want to start pulling those shards out?”

He pauses, thumbing the rim of his cup and looks up at her. She’s still easily turning the page of her magazine, leaving it up to him if she helped or touched him. He paused to study her, raising a brow. It’s refreshing to have someone _ask_ to touch him, the villagers never did and in battle you didn’t have a choice.

Nodding, he pushes his cup away, “Sure.” His voice is low, like leaves over pavement.

The mage nods and closes the magazine. She turns to him, pulling tweezers and a bowl from her inventory, “Where do you want to start.”

He hesitates, his stomach rolling in a horrible mixture of queasiness and nerves. There’s one, a particular sharp one in his throat that he can feel with every swallow, with every brush at his magic that he’d like to remove but that would mean baring this throat to a human. A powerful mage.

One that used that power to help him.

Sighing, he twists in his chair so that he’s facing her and tilts his head back. Everything screams at him to stop, that he’s vulnerable and showing his throat, and the _mage will hurt him_.

Her hands are careful at his throat, soft as she cups the back of his neck, thumb brushing at the thick magic that makes up the column of his throat, soft skin scraping against the shard just below the surface like a splinter. “Try to relax.” She tells him softly, tweezers careful as they grasp at the end of the shard and pulls it out.

The shard is thick and the relief that rolls through him at it being gone makes him puff out a sigh. It clanks heavily into the bowl with a merry ting, and her fingers are gentle as they search for other shards in this throat, “Do you know what did this?”

Nightmare swallows, and Sloan can feel the movement under her careful fingers, “No.” he tells her lowly, guilt creeping up in his soul and he hates it. Hates feeling it, hates that he let his crew down, “We couldn’t see it. But I could sense it. It was full of hate and anger.”

Another shard is added to the two in the bowl and she huffs a sigh, “It was a mage.”

Nightmare startles, hissing in pain when the shard Sloan was pulling out jerks. She winces, offering a small apology that makes him cringe, “How do you know?”

“I can feel it in the magic.” She says softly, thumb brushing carefully at his throat again to find the shard she was working out of his body. “I could feel it when I severed the tethers too. Someone powerful, but untrained.”

Nightmare huffed as the shard was eased from his throat to join its brethren, “How would they get into my world?”

Sloan shrugged, “Hard to say.” He shivered when she brushed at his body again, fingers probing carefully, “Magic is a living thing. Constantly evolving. A living thing of knowledge, moving from one magical being to another, like osmosis.” Her dark, pretty eyes caught his azure eye light, “Felix can open portals to the Nether, I can open portals with potions, it’s not a far stretch that if you can open portals to other words, others could figure it out.” She frowned, dark brows furrowing, “We can’t be the only world with mages, there must be others. Mage’s who aren’t kind, mages who hate on monsters and you were convenient.”

He shifted, and Sloan went back to carefully probing at the junction where his throat and shoulder joined, gently pushing a thick shard up a little to better grasp it with tweezers as she went on, “It went after the Sanses in your group with more viciousness.” She points out gently.

Nightmare looked up sharply as Felix wandered in, strolled past to check on how Ryder was doing in the kitchen, “What do you mean?”

“Well, your most injured are monsters that look like Sans. Gore, Red, Wine, Ripper,” she pauses, “You. Sin doesn’t look like Sans in the traditional way, and Lilith did more damage to him and Edge.”

Nightmare paused, not liking the twisting feeling in his chest, “It did something to Crow. I don’t know what, but he wasn’t mentally okay.”

Felix sunk into his chair when he came out of the kitchen and Nightmare can sense sadness from him as he drinks his coffee.

Sloan nods to her brother, fingers gentle at this shoulder, “It went after you Sanses with far more vicious intent then any of that others.” She says again, her voice confident and she’s sure she’s right. 

Nightmare blinked at her, pieces of a puzzle suddenly clicking into place as he realized she _was_ right, “Fuck.” He hissed, anger easily rising, and his hands balled into fists tight enough to make them bleed.

“Is there anyone who may have a grudge against you?” she asked, making him snort.

“That’s a long list.” His brow furrows with a frown, “But none that I can recall with this kind of power. Mages are rarer then you think in the multiverse, and you’ve the first we’ve encountered directly.”

Sloan frowned, her mouth pulling into a thin line of annoyance, “Well, that certainly doesn’t help.”

“No.” he says slowly, “But it was someone with a vendetta.”

The mage sighed, fingers tapping on the dark wood table in thought, and Nightmare knows they were no closer to the truth of who hurt them, no closer to how to protect themselves if they ever came back, “Fuck.” He curses again, drawing another frown from Sloan.

“Felix, how are the others doing?” she asks her brother softly, going back to pulling shards out of his shoulder, the two tentacles that Lilith had cut off still slow to heal.

Felix looked up, “Okay.” He yawned, “Wine woke up, he’s chatting with Hope and Coffee now. I imagine he’ll fall back asleep in no time. I told Gore I’d bring him down for breakfast once it’s done. Edge’s running a fever this morning, Lilith thinks it might be because he’s finally resting, and his body can’t cope. She’s got him sleeping.” He titled his head to give Nightmare a slanted look, “Can’t figure out who did it?”

Shaking his head, Nightmare reaches for his own coffee, “No. Not a clue. I don’t know who.” It’s a bitter truth, but he doesn’t shy away from it.

Nightmare sighs, rubbing tiredly at his face, body throbbing when Lilith and Sans strolled into the kitchen. They’re hand in hand, and he’s grinning up at her with a wide, bright grin and Nightmare’s hit with a wave of love. It’s powerful and heavy, rolls over him like a wave that knocks him under water. He can’t breathe as a wash of pain from positive emotion makes him sick, and he can’t stop himself from turning away from Sloan and vomiting thick, heavy black magic into the floor.

It pools heavily like tar under his chair, making the mages freeze, as it puddles. It’s thick and goopy as it drops from hit mouth, splashing into the pool and bitter in his mouth. Sloan is slowly moving, a hand on his shoulder to steady him so he didn’t fall face first into his own vomit, her hand gentle on the back of his neck as she carefully pets the thick magic.

“You’re okay.” She told him softly, and around him he can hear the others moving, getting things to clean up his mess, “You’re okay.” She told him again, carefully picking him up from the chair, carrying him to the living room where the kids like to set up their silly little games and she lay him on the couch. 

Shame chocks him, makes him feel like garbage, ashamed of what he’s become. Ashamed that he’s become so weak that feeling a powerful, positive emotion like love has driven him too his knees. He’s so tired, demolished. He needs negativity, any amount of it, no matter how weak.

Sloan’s hand is soft on his skull, stroking the silky, thick magic that made him up, “Nightmare?” her voice is soft and careful, “Are you okay?”

His socket opens, his eye light wide and in pain, “Fine.” He mutters again, shame rolling through him.

She frowns at him, concern bleeding into her voice, “What happened?” she sounds worried, and he isn’t used to someone directing that at him.

He swallows thickly, glances to the doorway where Felix, Lilith and Sans have gathered, peering cautiously into the room, like he was some kind of side show, and he was too weak and sick to do shit about it, “Positivity.” 

Sloan’s brow furrows, her head tilting in confusion when she doesn’t understand, “What?”

He swallows again, but his throat feels better without some of the shards stuck in it, “I don’t just thrive on negativity, I ingest it. I need to consume it, and your world is full of positivity, that makes it hard to cope.” He coughs again, swallowing back another bout of sick, “Your sister is so stupidly in love with her soft little boy friend, it physically hurts sometimes. Especially when they fucking look at each other. Its like a punch to the gut, it’s gross.”

Sloan blinks at him with pretty, dark eyes, before her mouth curls into a smile she tries to fight. He winces at the swell of amusement, ignoring that he doesn’t mind her smile. From the doorway, Sans laughs, calling out, “Don’t hate the player.”

He doesn’t understand the reference and judging by the too bright smirk on Sans’s face, he knows Nightmare is missing some kind of pop culture reference but he’s too tired to question.

“Wait, you actually consume negativity?” she asked for clarification, tucking a curly lock of hair behind her ear, her smile endearing, and Nightmare hated that he thought that way.

Nodding, Nightmare let his stomach settle before he pushed himself up, his skull spinning a little and his stomach twisted. From the doorway, Felix stepped into the room with a hum, scratching at his chin, “So it’s a dietary issue.”

Lilith and Sans steps in with him but kept their distance, and he hates that it’s for his comfort. They stay near the door as Felix slides up next to his sister, poking at one of Nightmare’s tentacles with a finger. He glares at Felix and the offending digit, offering a weak hiss.

His head tilted in an eery mimic of his sister, “So what possessed you?” he asked easily, as if they were talking about, he colors of the sky.

It was Nightmare’s turn to furrow his brow at Felix, “What?”

“You’re possession.” He said again, poking at his knee, pressing into the viscous magic that made up his body, pulling back a small amount of the liquid magic, thumbing the gummy marterial between his thumb and forefinger, “Like, you haven’t always been this way. Not according to your brother, so what possessed you?” he asked again, so casual about it.

“I wasn’t.” he said again, sounding annoyed and confused, “I was corrupted by consuming the apples of negativity of my world. Not something else.”

Felix frowned at the thick glob of dusting magic between his fingers, nearly crossed eye’d as he focused on it, “Yeah, see that never made sense to me either when your brother went on about your world.”

Frowning, Nightmare glared, “What did my idiot brother say?” evidence that Dream had been here and had warned the mages.

Felix shrugged, dusting the dead magic from his fingers on his pajama pants, “Enough.” And his grin is sharp, and that at least puts Nightmare at ease. He’s used to sharp grins and edges of cruelty, “But a lot didn’t make sense. Mostly what happened to you. See, as someone who is possessed, I know what possession looks like. And it looks a lot like you.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Surprise makes Nightmare’s socket widen.

“Possessed.” Felix said again, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “I have a sentient demon attached to my soul.”

“Wait, what?” Nightmare still doesn’t believe him.

“Later.” Felix waves his hand dismissively, “It’s not important right, but it means I know about possession. It doesn’t make sense that you were corrupted by your own apples when you’re the guardian of negativity. Eating your brother’s apples would have made more sense, or like, killed you.” He shrugged, “Which means something was probably already there, waiting.” Felix glances to him, his smirk wide and cold, unsympathetic, “Where you in a bad place when it happened? When you ate the apple?”

Nightmare glared at him, equally as cold and angry, “Fuck off.” That question was a little too close to his soul, a little to raw.

It made Felix grin even colder, and Nightmare doesn’t mind the cruelty on his face, “Right, I’m going to take that as a yes then.” He tells him brightly, at odds with the cruel twist of his mouth, “Which means it was probably drawn to you. If you were already at a low place, needing something. Wanting to be powerful?” he grins at Nightmare’s cold stare, and he hates how close Felix is guessing, “Right. So it was drawn to you. Do you hear voices in your head?”

Nightmare sneers at the question, “Do you?”

Felix pauses, eyes flicking up and he frowns, “Yes. I am possessed by a demon.” He says slowly, as if Nightmare should understand this already, and Felix is explaining something that should be common knowledge. He suddenly brightens, “Sans says I have a body snatcher. He’s a lot of fun.”

Nightmare isn’t sure if Felix is referring to the demon or Sans, and it’s a shame he hadn’t met Felix before this embarrassment. He would have made a good solider, “Ah. No. I don’t hear voices in my head.”

Felix hums again and nods, “It’s probably some kind of fauna from the Nether then. Something not necessarily sentient but like a plant drawn to the sun, it was drawn to you. Likely to what pain you were experiencing, latched onto your soul and caused the transformation. You don’t notice it, but it’s probably feeding off the dark parts of your soul, which is why it hurts when there’s too much positivity.” His grin becomes a little softer, “Or when my sister is being disgustingly adorable with Sans, and trust, it’s painful for me too.”

“Fuck you.” Lilith calls over from the door, slowly moving to sit with her back to the wall. Far enough to give Nightmare a larger berth, but close enough if she was needed.

Sans snorts and sits next to her, linking their hands as Felix continued, “So what we need to do is find a way to give you a bolus of negative energy to sustain you for a while.”

“Assuming that would even work.” Nightmare huffed back at him, earning an eye roll from the mage as he leaned back onto his hands.

“It’ll work.” He tells Nightmare placidly, glancing up and left in thought, “Maybe we could scare Lola.” He muses, “Or like, watch a scary movie.”

“We are not traumatizing Lola.” Sloan tells him immediately, making him frown.

“Party pooper.” Felix pouted at her, “Could go to the amusement park. Not a fan of roller coasters.” He offers.

“Too much positivity.” Lilith chimes in from the door, “People go there to have fun.”

Felix rolls his eyes, “Yeah, psychopaths.”

Lilith snorts, “Just because you’re a little bitch and don’t like roller coasters and haunted houses, doesn’t mean we all are.”

Felix flips her the bird, and Lilith makes a show of catching it and putting it in her pocket with a grin, much to even Nightmare’s amusement. Sloan frowns, brow furrows in concentration, and Nightmare feels _something_ surge in his soul, something that feels vaguely familiar even it he isn’t sure what. 

Attraction maybe?

He shoves it away, knows that once they figure out a way to get the shard out of his fucking soul, he’ll go back to normal.

“What about,” Sloan says slowly from where she’s knelt in front of him, her hand is still warm on his knee, “if we go to a funeral home? If it’s ambient negative feelings you need to feed off of, sadness and hurt and grief could starve off the positivity.” 

“Maybe?” Nightmare concedes, “I tend to,” he pauses, cringes at how this will sound, “prefer more hostile emotions. Anger, hatred, fear over sadness and hurt. They’re stronger.”

He’s expecting them to be disgusted with him, a fair assessment when he’s admitted that he likes the taste of anger. Instead the mages and Sans only hum in thought.

“Those might be harder to dredge up.” Sans says lightly, “at lease sadness and grief might sustain you.”

It’s a sweet offer, but Nightmare isn’t sure if it’ll be enough.

“What about a more concentrated source?” Lilith asked suddenly, looking up.

They all frown at her, even her soft little boy friend, so she goes on. Her words are slow and measured, “If ambient emotion isn’t going to be enough, or be in short supply, or something we can’t obtain, we need a more concentrated source.”

Even Felix was blinking at his sister in confusion, “What source?” 

Lilith let out a breath slowly through her teeth, “There’s someone killing young women in the downtown district in Ebott.” Everyone suddenly frowns at her, “They’ve already murdered three, a fea, a troll and a human. All in the same brutal fashion.”

Everyone stills in the room, even Nightmare, as they give Lilith a confused look as she soldiers on, “This individual is stalking women in our city, and they know enough magic to avoid a scrying spell. The police have found nothing, and neither have we.”

Felix nods, frowning, “Even the Hell Hounds couldn’t get a scent.”

Lilith nods, “But they have a type. Pretty, long hair, long legs.” Her eyes glance to Sloan, who sighs at her sister with a glare and seems to know what Lilith is getting at. 

“This individual is cruel, and must have a dark, cruel soul. Concentrated anger, evil. This isn’t self defense, this isn’t war, they are hunting down a specific type of person.” Dark eyes glance to Nightmare, her face becoming cold and impassive, “Nightmare, if you consumed the soul of this person, or people like them, would that sustain you?”

They all stare at her, Nightmare’s mouth parted in a silent _ah_ before he slowly speaks, “I, I don’t know.” He answers honestly, “I’ve not thought of consuming dark souls.” He admits, then frowns, “Shouldn’t I consume souls of pure individuals?”

They all turn to Felix, who shakes his head no, “No, that’s movie lore. Again, doesn’t makes sense for a dark entity to consume a pure soul. It needs darkness to thrive, a light soul would only weaken it.”

“Right,” Lilith nodded, “And Sloan has the soul truth trait. She could know, for sure, what the person is like.” She shrugs, “And I mean, there’s lots of cruel individuals that, let’s be honest, we’d all be better off without. People who kill, who rape, who hurt kids.” She shrugs.

Sans blinks at her, his permeant grin falling a little in thought before he added, “It’s be a public service really. A good deed.”

Nightmare can only stare at them, before Sloan asks, “Are you actually suggesting that we feed Nightmare souls of cruel beings to sustain him?”

Lilith looked at her sister with no hesitation, “Yes. It is no different then feeding vampires blood.”

A smile creeps over Felix’s mouth, “That’s metal as fuck.” He turns to Sloan, nearly beaming, “And with the right glamor spell, you can always be the perfect bait for whatever he’s hunting.”

Nightmare can’t believe a word that’s coming out of any of their mouths. They’re crazy, every single fucking one of them, are nuts. Sloan, at least, is a voice of logic.

She pauses, eyes squinting in thought, “No one could ever know.” She says slowly, “If we were ever caught, it would jeopardize everything we’ve done for monsters up until now.”

“We can always dump the bodies into the Nether.” Felix shrugs, as if its not a big deal for them, and Nightmare _knows_ they’re all insane.

They turn to him, and Sloan’s voice is careful when she asks, “What do you think?”

Nightmare think’s they’re all out of their minds. Every single one of them. It’s a suicidal plan, it’s _stupid_ , but he’s so fucking hungry. He’s low on magic that he needs, that when they ask him what he thinks, he tells them, _why the fuck not?_

Following Sloan through the dark, foggy street of Ebott’s downtown district, Nightmare creeps from the shadow’s hours later, after his crew had been tucked back into bed and Sloan carefully layered a glamor charm over her features to disguise herself. 

He steps carefully between one shadow and another, following along at an easy pace as she stumbles slowly down the dark, cold street. She isn’t drunk, hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol, but she’s done a damn good job at pretending.

She’s not as pretty with the glamor, Nightmare thinks, pausing to watch as the large man that has been following her for two blocks quickens his pace. Sloan is perfect bait, acting defenceless and helpless, and even if this isn’t the individual that Lilith had told him about that morning, this one still does not have any good intentions.

Nightmare is _surprised_ when he feels his hackles rise, when the tall man with light hair slips passed him as Sloan stumbles into a park and he can feel the violent, cruel intent. It makes him choke back a snarl, remind himself he needs to wait before he can tear this human apart. For the sake of his soul, and to not be burned to death by dragon fire, Sloan must be the one to give the okay to feed.

He wasn’t _technically_ betraying them if they told him to feed.

Slipping into the shadows, stalking his prey while he thinks he’s stalking Sloan, Nightmare stays close. He’s not going to allow this filthy pig to touch Sloan, not with the cruelty that Nightmare can feel from him, the intent.

He doesn’t acknowledge the swell of vicious intent to protect her, doesn’t want to think about what that may mean and stays silently at her heels as she lures him into the park. It’s a cold night, the kind with a freezing spring breeze that makes goose flesh rise on Sloan’s bare legs in her skirt; the kind of foggy, moonless night that was perfect for an attack.

The man senses none of this as he starts to close in, his steps speeding up and even from where he is, Nightmare can feel the sick excitement and his gleeful want to _hurt._ That vicious protective _thing_ swells from his soul and his instincts scream for him to take this fucker down. He’s supposed to wait for Sloan to do it, has no doubt in her abilities to do so, but he refuses to let this fucker touch her.

He maybe sick and unwell, but humans are so easy to break.

Nightmare pounces like a thing from a horror movie; all teeth and claws, and binding tentacles that break bones as the man is dragged to the ground like a gazelle being taken down by a lion. The man tries to scream, tries to struggle as Nightmare takes a fist full of hair from the back of his head and smashes his face into the cold, still partially frozen ground not once, but twice.

His nose breaks under the strain, the smell of blood thick and heavy as it gushes from his face, smearing down his chin. Nightmare clings on tight to his fist full of hair as Sloan straightens her stance and moves with that easy grace again as she circles back to him.

“You were supposed to let me do that.” He’s expecting her to be angry, he would have if one of his own had disobeyed a direct order, but she sounds amused and when he looks up at her, her mouth is twisted into a smirk.

He grins back as the glamor shimmers over her, and for a moment he can see her pretty face grinning back at him and her azure eyes amused. The glamor shifts back over her face to conceal her identity in case anyone spotted them. 

“You were taking too long.” He teases back, voice light and his soul felt odd. Heavy some how, but pulses with excitement as them man beneath him groans again. Nightmare pushes his face harder into the earth, the ground beneath maybe frozen and hard, but the surface is covered in thick mud that makes it hard to breath.

He feels a pulse of panic from under him, delicious and light as he begins to struggle with earnest, legs kicking feebly in a desperate bit to get any sort of traction, mud muffling the pained cries as his ribs ache from being broken.

Sloan couches low by his head, her smirk still amused, “Let him up.”

Nightmare does as he’s told, yanking back on his hair to pull his face from the mud. He gasps deeply, sputtering and spitting as he takes deep gulps of air, cursing at Sloan when he can finally catch his breath, “Fucking bitch. I’m going to sue you, do you know who my father is! You’re dead, do you hear me, fucking dead!”

Sloan sighs, “Nightmare?”

He grins, cold and cruel, and shoves his face back down in the mud with a vicious laugh. The man struggles weakly again, barely any pressor on his tentacles as he tries to free himself, and Nightmare laughs just over his ear. He wants him to know that he has no chance of escape.

Sloan watches it all passively, elbow propped on her knee, chin in her hand as if she were watching TV; she doesn’t make any motion to Nightmare when to pull his face from the mud until the struggling slows to nearly a stop.

She nods, and Nightmare yanks his face from the mud again. He sputters and gasps, muddy tears rolling down his face, and Nightmare can feel the waves of fear wafting from him in delightful rolls that already make him feel _better_.

Passively, Sloan reaches for his chin, fingers curling into his jaw line as if she had claws to guide his face upwards to hers, eyes shinning azure through her glamor as she looks into his eyes. Nightmare isn’t sure what to expect when Sloan looks at him, isn’t sure what the soul truth trait looks like, and wonders if it’s anything like a Judgement.

Its far more anticlimactic; Sloan is still as her eyes narrow, her mouth twisting into disgust as she confirms what he can already feel. The corrupt soul from this human pulses with panic as Sloan lets him go, wiping her hand off on her skirt like she’s been contaminated and he relishes in the anger that leaks off of her.

She sneers at him with anger that Nightmare can feel is building into fury, “You thought you could just pay her off and this would all go away?” she hisses at him.

Nightmare has no idea what she’s talking about, but it’s made her angry and he purrs with satisfaction. Anger and fear are thickening around him in a delightful cocktail of emotion that makes him feel _stronger_.

His mouth waters in anticipation as he quietly waits for Sloan’s judgement and the man beneath him struggles again, lies and denial already slipping past his teeth along with crude words to Sloan. She ignores it, looking up at him with the same passive energy as before, “He’s all yours.” She shrugs, much to Nightmare’s utter delight.

He still only has two tentacles, but it’s all he needs to turn the human over to face him, slamming him back down into the mud at his back. His mouth waters and parts into a horrifying smile of sharpened teeth and shadows. A thing of cruelty and violence, and he lets loose his aura at last, lets his own brand of vicious intent wash over the man beneath him.

He freezes, whimpers suddenly as he realizes that he’s trapped and no amount of struggling will save him. The strong scent of urine is sharp in the air suddenly as he lets his bladder go, the coward he was, eyes widening and Nightmare delights in his fear.

Good.

His azure eye light flashes with magic and power, and he’s suddenly starved for negativity, like Gore had been when he had found him, and before him a feast awaits. He licks his teeth and rasps, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Wait.” Any protest is ignored as Nightmare throws his head down, sharpened teeth sinking into the soft flesh of his shoulder, his shrieks of pain muffled by Sloan’s spell and the park around them is quiet.

Blood fills his mouth, coppery and hot, brimming with this man’s cruelty, his vicious intent and just a taste makes Nightmare see red. He’s so hungry suddenly, and the fear only adds to the sweetness of his agony.

He doesn’t make it a quick death, and he enjoys every moment, sucks in every ounce of agony this cruel, vicious human had before he found what he was after. That thick, heavy soul ripe with corruption was sweet on his summoned tongue, filling him like water being poured into a glass and his own soul settled. He groaned a magic and power filled him to the brim so that even the shards of light lodged into this body didn’t bother him.

He felt good, strong, better then he had in weeks, almost like himself and he felt a trickling of his own pleasure that didn’t hurt compared to how he was filled with negativity.

He drew back by the end of it, panting with a bright eye light and he wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand.

Sloan watched it all in the silent park, the glamor still in place with a raised brow and a look that was almost amusement, “I’ll be honest,” she said at last, Nightmare still panting as he sat back, “I didn’t know what to expect, but that wasn’t it.”

He gives her a bloody, cruel smile and stands; he straightened his spine, feels full of power, feels good and rolls his shoulder to loosen his body. His soul is filled with the corruption from the soul he consumed, and he almost feels like himself again. Strong and powerful, despite the shards.

“That makes two of us.” He grins up at her as she pushes herself to her feet, “But I’ll admit, I had fun.” He makes a show of licking his fingers clean, sucking the heavy, coppery blood from his digits. He gives his body a shake, and the two tentacles that Lilith had sliced off, regenerate at last, almost painful with how quickly they regrow. Giving them a little wiggle, he grins darkly at them. Had he known actually _consuming_ corruption made him feel this good, he’d have done it ages ago.

“Of course you did.” Sloan sighs, drawing his bloodied face up to her, and he cringes when he’s bracing for her rejection, “Fucking weirdo.” And he relaxes when it’s the same amusement from the start, “Okay, lets call Felix and get him to get rid of the body.”

Looking down at his feet, Nightmare frowns. A ‘body’ is generous at what is left of the pieces of the man whose soul he’s consumed, when really, it’s parts. He shakes his head, feeling more confident in his abilities then he had in days, “I’ve got it.”

A dark, oozing portal opened beneath the remains, and they watch it fall through, landing with a splash into the world below. Sloan peeks through with curiosity, frowning when she can’t see through the magic to the world below but can hear the sounds of waves.

“It’s an underwater world.” Nightmare tells her as the portal closes, leaving behind a bloodied mess in the grass and mud.

Sloan gives him a confused look, hands already at work, casting a spell that dissolves the blood and urine, so Nightmare goes on, “Not every world is underground. This one is underwater.” He muses brightly, his smirk cold, “The sharks will eat well.”

Sloan blinks at him as magic evaporate from her fingers, and her smile is as cold, amused and it makes something purr inside of Nightmare. He’s pleased that she’s amused.

“Well,” she says lightly as the glamor fades and it’s her pretty face that grins down at him, “So long as, its for the sharks.” She isn’t disgusted by him, she isn’t afraid by the cruelty she’s just saw, “You need a shower before you go to bed.”

The blood is drying, itchy and flaky on his body, especially around his mouth, and his eye light flashes happily. He should thank her for coming with him, thank Lilith for this crazy, fucked up plan, but he takes this as his due.

“What?” his words are dripping with sarcasm as his body begins to solidify a little, becoming less oozy as darkness fills him, “You don’t like my visage of death?”

He opens another portal, one that will take them back to the compound and Sloan grins at him, amused, “Sorry Nights, the stench of death is not really my thing.”

“A shame,” he sighs dramatically as they step through it, “I wear it so well.”

Sloan’s mouth quirks with amusement as they step out into their front yard, “Well, second best. Lilith still wears it best.”

The portal snaps shut behind him, and he grins, “You wound me Sloan.”

His words make her laugh, and he grins with a flash of triumph that doesn’t hurt him. Now, they only need to see how long his magic holds before he starts to weaken again in this positive, happy world.

Falling in step next to Sloan, Nightmare feels something unknot from his chest. Some kind of anxiety or fear let go, something heavy he didn’t realize he was carrying. If the mages are willing to let him feed here, to rip the concentrated corruption right out of someone’s chest, then their commitment to their health can’t be questioned.

With a grin, Nightmare follows Sloan back inside, and doesn’t question _why_ they’re so committed.


	9. Currency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloan and Felix find out that the Doom and Gloom Crew see currency a little differently then they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and enjoying your Sunday. 
> 
> New chapter of Finding a Safe Haven, and some warnings for this chapter in particular. Please take the time to read them. There is also a tag update, I mistakenly labeled Swapfell Gold as Underswap Gold, and this has been fixed. 
> 
> WARNINGS: implied past rape/non-con, implied past prostitution, discussion of slavery, implied past torture, darker theme discussed but not in graphic detail. 
> 
> If I've missed anything please let me know and I will add it in.

Lounging across Wine’s bed in a lazy sprawl, Sin watches the room with careful eye lights despite his laid back and relaxed position; Wine leaned against the wall at his back, eye light flickering over the book that Felix had brought him, and Sin stretched out over his thin, broken legs, propped up on his elbows.

He kicked his long legs out in slow, lazy swings as he took in the room after days of the mages plying magic to their broken bodies and the kindness given freely. Sin frowned, feeling a weird twist in the soul, heavy and oppressive as he looked around at his crew and the things they played with, thing that the mages bought them. The books they read, that the mages bought them. The cloths on their backs, the food in their bellies, the fucking _soul_ that they stole for Nightmare, all given with an unexpected kindness, and nothing expected back in return.

Wine flips the page of his novel, bones still chalky with exhaustion and bright yellow magic still fed into his wobbly soul to support him, again, donated by the mage. The creepy one, the one with a demon attached to his soul that took a liking to Coffee.

Frowning, pale yellow eye lights looks across the room to where Felix is playing a board game with Coffee, Mercy and Hope, some game called Clue. Sin had listened in, eaves dropped really, into the rules, and apparently the point of the game is to solve a murder, truly a game to play with impressionable children.

Wasn’t like they didn’t already have the chance to play Clue in real life, now did they?

At least Frisk got the chance to be in school, although Sin wasn’t sure how much good that did when she lived in a house full of mages. Still, she seemed to enjoy it, set off each morning and welcomed home with open arms each night. Sin wished they’d be here long enough that their kids could have the opportunity to go to school as well, the stark differences in their worlds was not unnoticed, and Sin could see how lucky this Frisk was. How lucky the monsters here are, how easy it would have been for humanity to be cruel and unjust without the backing of a powerful Den of mages. 

Heaving a sigh, Sin’s eye lights glide around the room, taking in Glass hoovering yet again over Lola as she continued to ply more magic into Ripper. He hadn’t woken yet, the last one too and everyone was getting antsy, wondering if he would.

Yellow eye lights kept moving around the room to Edge, Red and Sans; Red out cold and deep in sleep, his fever at last broken the night before, leaving him weak and shivering in its aftermath. Edge had perked up after a few days of solid, uninterrupted sleep and proper food, looking healthier then Sin ever remembers seeing him. His bones starting to _gleam_ a little despite the scars under the careful care of the battle mage and her soft little boy friend.

Sans is showing Edge how to play cats cradle with slow, deliberate movement, their fingers gliding over each other carefully. Sin’s sockets narrow at Sans’s wide, easy grin and the blush that scalds Edge’s face that Sans is clearly ignoring out of some misguided politeness.

Still, Edge looks…happy, and Sin isn’t sure he can recall a time that Edge _was_ happy.

He frowns, watching Edge carefully maneuver the string out from Sans’s tiny hands with his large, sharp claws with the utmost care. Their first few attempts had ended with Edge slicing trough the string like it was nothing, leaving Edge looking disappointed in his lack of precision and Sans to tie the string to try again.

Sin squirmed, watching Sans and Edge play, watching Felix and Coffee play, knowing that this kindness wasn’t free.

From the other end of the room, Nightmare hisses in pain, drawing yellow eye lights.

“Okay, I’ve almost got it.” Lilith’s voice is smooth and calm, and it’s almost sweet how she’s actually _reassuring_ him.

Although, to be fair, she and Sloan are pulling the largest shard of light that Sin had seen from Nightmare’s empty socket like something out of a horror movie. He’s trying to sit as still as he can, gripping onto Sloan’s hand with such a crushing grip, that Sin is sure that her soft, pretty skin will bruise after.

Sloan is talking to him in a soft, careful voice, gripping back just as tightly as she encourages him to look at her so that Lilith can pull the shard out of his socket. The magic is thick there, and slippery, making it hard to grasp the end of the shard to ease it out.

Lilith’s left hand is careful on his chin, tilting his face to the light over her shoulder while her right is careful to prod at the shard, trying to latch onto the edge with tweezers to slip it out of his body. It’s a splinter in the worse place, and Nightmare’s sockets water with azure magic each time she gets a solid grip on the shard and begins to pull it out.

“If you think you are being subtle,” Wine’s voice is still raspy with illness as he flips the page of his novel, “You’re not.”

Sin sighs, looking away from Nightmare as Sloan coos softly at him and Lilith eases the shard from his socket, “I’m subtle as hell.” He pouts at Wine, earning another snort.

“You’ve been glaring at Sans and Felix for the past twenty minutes.” His eye light flicks up over the top of his book, the magic of his eye light is still dim and weak, but his smirk curls over his mouth, flashing sharp teeth.

Turning his head, Sin summoned his tongue to blow a raspberry at Wine, earning him an eye roll and Wine going back to ignoring him. It makes Sin snicker, but that doesn’t douse the uncertainty in his soul, and he knows this kindness comes with a price.

Pushing himself up, Sin moved to sit next to Wine to settle in against his side, with his back against the wall. He nudged his elbow into Wine’s side, drawing that exhausted eye light back to his face, “This wont last.” Sin mutters quietly making Wine frown, and he silently takes notice of the dark, deep half moons under Wine’s sockets. He’s still so tired, so beaten down from his world and from whatever mauled them, and Sin knows that Wine needs more rest, more TLC and what ever the mages are willing to dole out to them.

Sin needs to ensure they continue their kindness. 

Wine’s brow furrows, glancing to Felix as he plays a board game with the girls and Coffee, worry soft on his face before it hardens when he looks back to Sin. Wine is Fell, he knows that kindness comes with a price, a lesson that Sin learned the hard way, and knows that lots of things can be considered currency.

They glance to Edge and Sans when the latter laughs at something they can’t hear, taking the string back from Edge with careful fingers. That weird, soft grin is back on Edge’s face, one that Sin can’t remember ever seeing before and he sighs.

Closing his book, Wine sits up straighter, ever the prim and proper Royal Guard, “What are we going to do about it?” he asks soft, voice edging into cold concern.

Sin snorts, “We? Nothing. You’re still hurt.” He knows he’s the easy one, the one most likely to put out and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. He glances around the room and back to Sloan, “What are you going to do? Fuck one of them with that cast on?”

Wine huffs, too prim and proper to snort, “There is nothing wrong with my mouth.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz humans are really going to put their delicate bits in that fucking shark mouth you have.” Sin smirks back at him, making Wine roll his eye light.

“Don’t curse.” Wine scolds him, sockets narrowed, voice huffy despite how tired he is, “It’s unbecoming.”

Sin grins back at him, slick and amused, “Everything about me is unbecoming. It’s why I’m so popular back home.” He says it because kindness comes with a price, and sex is a currency, “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” Lilith is already taken, and Sin isn’t looking to start some shit. Besides, Sloan was way prettier, “You need to recover.”

Wine looks back to Coffee, his frown deepening, “Felix has been hanging around by brother quite a bit.” Something that Felix has said makes Hope shriek with laughter and Coffee to smile, “It concerns me.” He admits, “I don’t want my brother to be harmed. He’s,” Wine pauses, head tilting, “He’s rather fond of that mage.” He squints his sockets in a brief glare, “I’m alarmed.”

Wine looked up at him with a frown as he straightened his shoulders and had he been standing, Sin knows he’d be a parade rest, “I’ll deal with it. I will not allow Coffee to be harmed.”

Then, as if they never had that conversation, as if that decided everything with such simple words, Wine opened his book and went back to his story with a determined air. Sin sighed, slouching against the wall, and knew better to argue with that stubborn bastard.

Sin glanced to Sloan again with a frown. He needs to ensure that the mages continue to be kind to the others, and Sin knows he can ensure they continue to.

Besides, he’s never had complaints about his head.

-

Slipping down the stairs to the floor where the mage’s quarters are, Sin shakes out his shoulders to loosen them and forces himself to relax. This is far from the first time he’s traded sex for something he’s needed, and they need, _need_ , the mages to continue to be kind to the others. Especially Coffee and Edge, and if Sin can get them to keep at it, sleeping with a pretty girl is hardly the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

If he can keep Sloan happy to get Lilith and Felix to continue to be kind, so be it. If it gets her to keep being kind to _Nightmare_ then he’ll let her do whatever she wants to his body. She couldn’t be any worse then Asgore or his court, he’s sure that he can take what ever she can sling at him.

Stepping into the hall, he rolls his shoulders, and puts on his best grin as he heads to Sloan’s room.

“What the hell are you doing?” he tries not to flinch at Nightmare’s soft voice from behind him as he steps out of a shadow with a frown and azure eye light blazing.

Leaning against the wall, Sin puts on his best smile, a smirk that could put Felix’s honeyed grin to shame despite the throbbing of his soul and his panic at being caught. Nightmare maybe dark and cruel, but he’s not Fell, he won’t understand this, “Heya _Nights_ ,” he grins at Nightmare’s cringe, “Just going to talk to our gracious host.”

Nightmare glares, studying him with a careful, knowing eye light, “Watch yourself _Sans_.”

Sin flinches inward at the use of his full name, but plasters a grin across his skull, bright and mischievous, “Why? You gonna spank me Boss?”

Rolling his azure eye light, Nightmare gives him a pained look, “I should have left you where I found you.”

Sin takes it all in stride, a smirk curling a little brighter at his teeth, “Probably.” He aggreged good naturedly with a nod, “But you chose to keep me.”

Nightmare sighs again, putting his hands into his pockets, “What are you doing down here?”

Sin’s grin falls a little, and he leans against the wall in more of a lounge. He tilts his head back, baring is throat in a submissive gesture, “Giving incentive.”

Nightmare’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment before it clicks in his head what Sin is up to. His teeth part in a silent _ah_ , head titling, “You certain that is a wise idea?” 

Sin grinned, head titled, “Do we have a choice?” Nightmare frowns up at him, “What happens if the mages decided to pull their charitable habits? I’m merely giving them incentive to continue being nice.”

Blinking at him, Nightmare stares, brow furrowing in utter confusion before his smirk is slow to grow, sharp and amused, “And you think sleeping with a mage is going secure this position?”

“It’s always worked in the past.” He shrugs, pushing himself off the wall, walking with a roll of his hips.

Nightmare falls in step with him, shaking his head, “You realize that, you don need to, yes?”

Sin grins with a shrug, “Stick to what you know Boss.” And Sin knows how to make someone’s body feel good, how to make them happy to get what he wants.

Shaking his head, a dark smirk curled at Nightmare’s mouth, “And which mage are you going to ply your brand of amusement on?” he gives Sin a sideways look, “Surely not Lilith or Ryder?” there was an edge of a threat in Nightmare’s voice, a warning.

Sin snorts, “I’m trying to endear them to us, not start a war.” He gives Nightmare a brighter grin, “I don’t know who would beat me harder if I came onto Lilith. Her or Sans.”

Nightmare gives him a grin, “I put my money on Sans.” Sin snorts again, “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“Quite ones are also the best in bed.” He adds cheerily.

Rolling his single eye light, Nightmare gives him a sideways look, “Sure. Which poor mage are you going to crash and burn before?”

“Thanks Boss.” Sin dead pans, “Sloan. She’s easy on the eyes and she’s kind, it’s not that much of a choir.”

Nightmare stiffens suddenly, tentacles trembling and sharp as the magic that makes up his body ripples in agitation. Sin’s mouth pulls into a frown as he looks down at Nightmare with furrowed brows, “Is that an issue?”

Nightmare glared at him, magic rippling with agitation before he shook himself out, “No. Why would it?”

Sin’s frown deepens at the sudden cold in his voice, feeling the creeping dark aura from the monster at his side, “You, ah, seem agitated by that.”

His words are carefully chosen, not wanting to disturb the peace they had found here and annoy Nightmare. He’d been in a good mood these last few days, reeling in his dark aura to keep it close to himself, and Sin doesn’t want to be the one to rock the boat.

Sin frowned, squinting a little at Nightmare, wondering if maybe the corrupted monster was more then just a little fond of the mage?

“I’m not.” He shot back, a little too quick to be believable. He shook himself out again, and straightened, “I want to see you crash and burn.” He said suddenly, smirking and smug, “Sloan isn’t kind for the sake of wanting something, and this will be delightful to watch you implode.”

Still frowning at Nightmare, they came to Sloan’s door, “You give the best pep talks Nightmare, honestly. You should be a motivational speaker.” He dead pans, “Nothing says I believe in you like, I can’t wait for you to crash and burn.” 

Nightmare’s vicious grin doesn’t break, it’s just as sharp and amused, but his tentacles are still pointed and his magic agitated. Sin knows he’s not okay with this choice, and something compresses in his chest; he wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t out to start a war.

Huffing at Nightmare, Sin straightens back up, strives for confidence as he knocks on Sloan’s door; its weird that he notices the glossy paint and the protective charms that ripple over the wood. There’s a weird, twisting nostalgia that settles over Sin when the door unlocks and Sloan opens her door, and Sin grins. She has a heavy book floating in front of her, and she looks relaxed, more so then Sin has seen her since their arrival, and it softens him a little, putting him at ease.

She’s wearing a pair of lose, silky pants that go down to her ankles, and a black crop top that show off her flat belly, and Sin can’t help but be enamored that she’s barefoot, her little toes curling into the carpet of her room. She looked up at them, eyes bright as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear when she smiles.

“Nights, Sin,” her voice is smooth and pleasant, sounding genuinely pleased to see them and her smile is as bright as the sun, “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m here to see Sin stumble.” Nightmare told her without a stitch of sarcasm, his smirk sharp enough to cut.

Sloan’s brow furrowed and her head tilted in confusion, Sin jumping in before Nightmare ruins his chance here, his voice smooth like silk, “Could we talk?”

Dark, confused eyes glance between them, and Sin realizes his mistake when Sloan steps back to invite them both in. He meant to say he and her, cutting Nightmare out completely, but Nightmare, the asshole he is, takes a step into her room with a pleased grin before Sin can correct them.

Huffing, sounding annoyed, Sin follows him inside, allowing Sloan to close the door behind them. He wasn’t sure what to expect from a spell caster’s room, maybe multicolored smoke and a cauldron bubbling, but it’s neat and tidy with bright blue paint on the walls.

Her bed is neatly made with a soft green comforter and shelves of books line the walls. Nightmare slips inside, easily hefting himself up onto her desk with his tentacles, elbows prompt onto his knees and chin in his hands like a delighted gremlin as Sin looks around the room.

“What are you reading?” he asks, eye light still pleased and amused on Sin. He scowls at Nightmare, despite the weird compression in his chest. 

Closing the book, Sloan slides it back into an empty space on a shelf, “Felix and I are trying to figure out what kind of demon possessed you. If we can narrow it down to a genus, that’ll help us better figure out what to feed you.” She gives him an easy smile and a shrug, and Sin can see the softening look in Nightmare’s expression, “We’re trying to see if there’s an easier way to help you feed. Or even figure out how long the magic will last. But we’ve not been successful with the knowledge that we have.” She frowns, still looking beautiful, “Felix thinks it might be an ancient species that may not exist any longer in this world.” She gives a little shrug, “We’ll figure it out, or at least the family it came from.”

Sin can see Nightmare softening a little more, pleased that they weren’t trying to change him. They weren’t trying to ‘save’ him from his corruption, only finding a way to make it easier on him. Those dark, intelligent eyes swung to Sin, her mouth pulling back up to a grin, “What can I do for you today then?” 

The dark, harsh look comes back to Nightmare’s face, delighted in what’s about to happen, fucker. It dampens Sin’s confidence a little, but he still forces a smile, bright and pleased as he focuses on Sloan, “I wanted to say thank you.” Next to them, still perching on her desk like a gargoyle, Nightmare quirks a brow at him, and Sloan looks surprised, “You’ve all been very kind to us.”

Sloan blinked at him, before her smile lit up the room and sheer delight filled her, the stolen dark soul protecting Nightmare from the happiness that radiates off of her, “Oh, your welcome Sin. We’re happy to.”

From the corner of the room, Sin can _feel_ Nightmare’s amusement; Sin ignores him as he steps into her space to take her hand, “And if there is anything at all that I can do, please let me know. Anything at all.”

In his world, that’s more then just an invitation. It’s acknowledging that there is a debt to be paid and an offer of payment.

It goes right over her head.

Sloan grins at his words, soft and amused but lacking the edge that Nightmare’s has, “Oh, that’s very sweet of you Sin. Unnecessary, but sweet.”

He can feel Nightmare’s smug aura near them without even seeing his face as he focuses on Sloan; it’s heavy and dark and a delightful contrast to Sloan’s bright, light energy and briefly he wonders what it would be like to have them both?

He pushes the thought away. This isn’t for his pleasure; he has a job to do. He’s here to ensure they continue to be kind to the others, regardless of the cost. Drawing her hand to his chest, Sin presses her fingers against his sternum, and he gives her his best, most inviting smile, “Are you sure, there’s _nothing_ I can do for you?”

Her brow furrows in confusion before it clicks what he’s offering her. Sin watches her eyes go wide and a startled _oh_ is drawn passed her lips when she understands what Sin is offering. He grins when the confusion clears from her eyes, and he forces his turbulent soul to calm.

“Oh.” She says again, her voice is small, eyes flashing azure with magic, and she glances around him as if looking for help. He wonders if maybe this _was_ a bad idea, and Nightmare’s smug look is heavy, no longer as desirable as it had been not all that long ago.

Her fingers curl into his shirt suddenly, and Sloan carefully licks her lips as she turns and pulls Sin to her bed. There’s a familiar flush of fear that he’s quick to bury, reminding himself that Sloan isn’t like the monsters of his world. He’s offered this, this won’t hurt, and fuck, maybe she’ll be into Nightmare watching.

He doesn’t suppress a shiver when she leads him to her bed, pulling him around, and pressing him back. The back of his knees bumped against the edge of the mattress, pushing him down to sit. Sin automatically spreads his knees, inviting her into his space, both hoping and dreading it, when she steps back and away from him.

Confusion and embarrassment creep into his soul as he frowns up at her. Sloan has stepped back far enough that she’s out of his reach, and Nightmare looks delighted behind her, smug and amused. Sin tries to ignore him as panic swells in his chest as Sloan gives him a _concerned_ look.

“Sin,” her voice is soft but firm, concern bleeding into her tone, “You don’t need to sleep with me because we’re nice to you.”

Behind her, Nightmare looks delighted, and Sin feels like a deer in the head lights, he’s frozen in the face of her genuine concern, and his mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out.

“No, Sin. Really, you don’t need to sleep with me because we’re nice to you. You don’t owe us anything, we don’t expect you to give us anything. Especially not sex.” She speaks with compassion and concern, and very much out of arms reach, “Why do you think you need to?”

Behind her Nightmare raises a brow, smug with an air of _I told you so._

“Ah.” His mind goes blank and any lie that he may have leaned on slips out of his mind like water running out of a cracked glass. This was not how he was picturing this happening, and he blurts the truth, “On my world kindness comes with a price.” He says in a panicked rush, sockets wide and eye lights constricted into pin pricks, “I’d rather pay the debt then it come to the others.”

Sloan blinks at him, understanding clearing the confusion a little, but her brow still furrows, “Sin, there’s no debt here. There’s nothing to repay.”

He gives her a weak grin as an awkward and emberressed feeling bubbles in his soul, “Insurance then? Incentive to keep being nice?” his words are awkwardly weak and small, and it makes Sloan’s frown deepen.

Behind her, Nightmare snorts, drawing that confused frown to him, “Stop being so smug!” she snaps at him, concerned eyes going back to him even as Nightmare shrugs.

“I can’t help it,” his voice is soft and amused, “my face is just shaped like this.”

Sloan sighs, eyes closed as if pained, and she shakes her head at him before concerned eyes goes back to Sin. He squirms under those stunning, concerned eyes, “Sin, why do you think you owe us anything?”

He blinks and gives her a weak grin, “Well, my universe,”

“No.” she says quickly, firmly, voice filled with concern, “Why do _you_ think you owe us anything?”

The grin falls a little from Nightmare’s mouth, straightening up at her question. It was funny to watch Sin stumble and be rejected, but Sloan was digging into something that she didn’t need to dig into. Trauma that she didn’t need to know.

Sin stiffens, glances with panic to Nightmare before he goes back to Sloan’s concerned face, “Uh.” He swallows hard, and Nightmare is getting ready to stand and pull him from the room, when his words are small, “My universe is a slaver world.”

Sloan’s face falls, eyes going wide and flick strongly with azure magic. She’s quite and lets him talk, words spilling out from between his teeth under the soft look from Sloan, “My father is the royal bounty hunter, not the scientist. I never…not with the slaves. But I enjoyed the status my father had, the perks that came with it. The perks of being in the King’s inner court.”

“What happened?” Sloan asks softly as Nightmare pushes himself off the table, stalling at the mage’s soft words, prying the truth from him with soft kindness that has never been directed at him before.

“The human fell.” He said softly, eye lights dropping to his knees, where he’s gripping tightly at his pants, “She wasn’t like Hope and Mercy. She was an adult, and kind. Sweet in a way we had never seen underground.” And Sin had loved her, truly loved her like he had never loved another before, “We.” He faulters, “My brother and I escorted her through our underground. All the way to the palace, snuck her past the guard and we almost made it.”

He falls silent, and Sin can hear birds singing outside, bright and happy despite how his soul roils. He doesn’t understand why he’s saying these things, why these words are spilling past his teeth and admits his truth.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, drawing a snort from Sin.

“We didn’t make it. My brother and the human died, but she didn’t have a determined soul to reset.” She had a kindness soul, “She was just gone, and I was branded a traitor. My father was humiliated, told me that he wished I had died with Papy…by brother and gave me to Asgore for his harem.” He shrugged, words spilling faster, “He used me until he was satisfied and tossed me out. I was picked up by the assassin’s guild of my world and used my skills in bed to get close to my assignments.” He licked his teeth, “Everyone wants something. Everything comes with a price, and I can afford the debt when the others can’t.”

It’s a sterilized version of what happens, and Sloan knows that she’s missing _so_ many idiosyncrasies, but she can see the hurt there. See how that everything comes with a price on his world, and Sin is used to paying that price in place of his people. That he’s willing to do what ever it takes to keep the other safe, and their happiness is safe guarded by Sin.

It makes something pang in Sloan’s soul. Something heavy and sad, and she wants to tell him that it’s okay. He’s safe here, there is no debt for their kindness, that Den mates care for each other, and its okay.

Sloan knows, of course, she can’t say any of this. Can’t offer any words of support for a hurting, and confused Den mate. One that’s embarrassed and humiliated, one who spilled the truth of what happened to him when even Sloan didn’t expect the words to tumble so easily.

She wants to hug him, tell him its fine, tuck him in the middle of the Den and protect him. She can’t, she knows but she can reassure him. Tell him that there is no debt for this kindness, when something occurs to Sloan; that no one has been _nice_ to him for the sake of being kind.

She can do that much.

“Sin.” Her voice is soft and sad, “This isn’t like your world. We aren’t going to demand payment, so we’ll keep being nice to you. You don’t need to offer up sex to protect the others.”

Sin gave a bitter laugh, scratching at the back of his neck, humiliation creeping through him, his face turning bright yellow in a scalding blush, “Yeah, I’m getting that.” He gives a little cough of embarrassment, “Think I should go.”

Sloan frowns, and she wants to do something nice for him. She wants to protect him, and keep him safe, she wants to make him feel better, “Hang on.” She tells him quietly, drawing both his and Nightmare’s eye lights to her, “Let me show you what I mean.”

Sin and Nightmare stare at her, brows furrowed, in confusion, there’s a brief flash of fear in Sin’s eye lights and it hurts that they don’t understand what she’s getting at. Sloan soldiers on, “We’ve been nice for the sake of being nice, but Sin has anyone been nice to you? Without wanting something in return?”

He freezes, breath hitches and he slowly shake his head no as his sockets drop, making Sloan frowns at him. She ignores the awkwardness around them, the uncomfortable feelings that swell in her chest. Instead, she squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, “Oh sweetie.” Her voice is soft, then takes a breath, “Then I’ll be first.” Pale yellow eye lights lift to her, glancing nervously to Nightmare.

“Come on, we’re going to have a nap.” Sin is Sans enough that the offer a nap is a peace offering, and Sloan knows that Sans likes to snuggle with Lilith. She wonders if anyone’s ever snuggled with Sin without having underlining plans.

Sin frowns at her, hands clasping hard in his lap to hide the trembling in his hands, “What?”

“A nap.” She said again, crossing to the bed to pull back the thick, heavy comforter, nodding to the bed, “Come on. Let’s have a nap. You’ll feel better after a bit more sleep. No strings attached.”

Sin blinks at her, that awkward, horrible embarrassment burns through him and he wants to run, but his words are small and compliant, “Alright.” He peels off his heavy leather coat, letting it pool onto the carpeted floor. He pauses before he climbs into her bed, confused and unsure, “Why?”

Sloan gives him a gentle smile, and she wants to tell him it’s because their Den mates, and they take care of their own. She doesn’t say that, instead she asks, “Why not?”

Sin drops his eyes again and shrugs, almost defeated and climbs into her bed. He curls onto his side, his back to Sloan and lets out a slow, shaky breath and she pretends not to see the dampness at his closed sockets. Still holding back the comforter, she turns to Nightmare, and raises a brow at him, “Nightmare?”

He’s still, watching her carefully, uncertain and she can see his tentacle’s sharp in a threat. He loosens slowly, tentacles rounding to soft, blunt ends and shrugs, “Why not.”

He climbs in bed behind Sin, curling into his back, settling into Sloan’s bed. Shaking her head, she pulls the blankets over them, taking the time to tuck them in and wonders if anyone has been so nice to them. Has anyone ever tucked them into bed, not expecting anything in return?

Sloan turns the lights off before she slips under the blanket with them. It’s warm in the room as the spring weather warms day by day, but Sloan ignores it when she settles in next to Sin. He’s stiff and still, like a rod has been taped to his spine and he trembles like he’s waiting to be struck.

Sloan moves slowly, her arms teasing around his shoulders to softly pet at the bone under his thin t shirt. Nightmare is loose and relaxed behind him, sockets already closed and breathing slowing as a heavy tentacle slips up Sin’s shirt to wrap around his spine. Sin shivers at the contact, jamming his sockets shut as tightly as he can.

It’s a slow process to get Sin to relax, glacial as he loosens bit by painful bit before he’s limp and tired in Sloan’s bed, pressed against her softly. She can almost pinpoint the moment he’s fallen asleep, going completely soft in her arms and his breathing deepens. Nightmare isn’t far behind him, a tentacle reaching out to coil lightly around her wrist as they snuggle in together, Sin between them for a warm, midday nap.

Anger and fury build in her chest suddenly. Hot and heavy, and Sloan can feel vicious magic spark at her fingers, can taste fury at the back of her tongue. It floods her eyes solid black with vicious intent that she’s quick to reel in when Nightmare twitches in his very light sleep. Someone, _Asgore_ , had hurt Sin. Someone had hurt Nightmare, someone that Sloan didn’t know who and it makes her vice press against its box and fury build in her chest. 

Someone hurt her Den mates, someone left deep, harsh wound, left them raw and hurting on more then one level. Someone made Sin feel as if his only worth was what he could offer from between his legs, someone else buried hundreds of light shards into Nightmare’s body, and made them believe that they were only good as bad guys.

“Nightmare?” she asks softly, testing the waters a little to see if he was still awake.

“Hmm?” Nightmare makes a soft noise, sockets closed, and he doesn’t see the dark clouds in her eyes.

“What happens if you aren’t in the multiverse?” she keeps her voice soft and doesn’t hint at any of her anger that swirls.

Nightmare shrugs, cuddling a little more into Sin’s back, “Something will collapse.” He mutters into Sin’s shoulder, doesn’t seem overtly upset by that, “Ink continues to create, but doesn’t always create for stability. When an unstable universe collapses, it’ll likely take one or two of its neighbouring worlds down with it.”

Nightmare stretches out, “We sow chaos for me to feed from and destroy the failing universe in a controlled collapse to spare the stable worlds. We are as much a part of the ecosystem as Ink and his little pals, but no one is a fan of the end of a life cycle.” A cruel grin spreads across his face, and his socket opens a slit for azure magic to spill from, “Without us, thousands more will die. More universes will fail and collapse into each other, and frankly I don’t give a solitary fuck.”

The azure magic blinks out as Nightmare closes his socket and snuggles back into Sin’s back with a yawn, “Let my brother try to save them. See how far he gets without us to act as the balance.”

Her hand stretches out to scratch lightly at his skull, and he sighs in delight, his soul heavy with dark magic stollen earlier that makes him feel better. He’s warm and comfortable in Sloan’s bed, and doesn’t feel the anger swelling in her soul at their treatment.

Someone’s hurt them, and Sloan can taste fury, can feel her obscenely high LV broil in her soul. She wants to keep them, keep these hurting and damaged Den mates, wants to keep them safe and bring a measure of happiness to them. And frankly, fuck the multiverse. If they didn’t want them, well Sloan did.

She knows she can’t keep them, she wants to, fuck she wants too but she can’t.

But, she does wonder, if she could. If she could find a way, would she be allowed to do the impossible and keep these skeletons. Could she say fuck it to Fate, and keep her Den mates here, safe and unharmed, and well fed, and happy.

Sloan wonders, if maybe, could there be a way.

-

Straightening out the blanket that draped over his legs, Wine straighten up and tries to _look_ presentable at least. He hardly feels presentable, his leg still healing, throbbing in pain despite it being wrapped in warm healing gauze, his bones are chalky pale and his sockets have thick, dark rings circling under them.

He’s exhausted, but that’s not completely uncommon for him, as it turns out, he’s still a Sans even as Captain of the Royal Guard. Or, well, former captain. Wine still hadn’t accepted it fully that he was no longer Captain of the Royal Guard, he had worked his entire life to gain that title, to provide a safe haven for his brother and do right by the people of Snowdin. He had given it all up, all of it, for Hope.

He and his brother both had given up everything, their station, their home, their lives for the child that fell. Branded traitors turned on by their friends and hated by the Empress, they had been hunted mercilessly until Nightmare found them.

Wine had left everything behind, dumped everything into the gutter to keep Coffee and Hope safe and alive, and he’d do it again in a soul beat. So, surely, he could manage this. He had never…not _for things_ …not like Red and Sin had, but he had done terrible thing to keep his family safe. He could and would, do terrible things to keep them safe, and he wasn’t going to send Sin alone to be a lamb to the slaughter.

Besides, it was _his_ brother that Felix had taken a shine too, it only made sense that Wine be the one to get on his knees to keep the mage happy.

Nervousness washed over him as he straightened out the blanket again, smoothing away nonexistent wrinkles, a weird anxiousness crawling up his spine. It felt like the times Empress Toriel had forced Coffee to judge _him_ , to feel his sins crawling up his spine and Wine had to force himself to not react.

The Empresses had never broken him, never got them to turn on each other, and try she had.

This was different.

Lightly tugged on the thin plastic tubing that fed magic donated by Felix into his soul, Wine tries to calm himself. He had to do this, Coffee had taken a shine to Felix and Wine would do anything to keep his brother safe.

There’s a creek in a bed near him, drawing a too dim eye light to Red, shifting in his cot; he’s been sleeping a lot, a lot even for Red but if he feels even half as terrible as Wine does, Wine doesn’t blame him. He shifts again in his sleep, sighing softly as he presses his face into the pillow, snoring softly.

Wine frowns, glancing to Ripper, still unconscious and they’re starting to worry that Ripper won’t wake up, and back to Red. There’s another pulse of discomfort, what if this works and Red wakes up? Wine isn’t sure even his ego could take that blow of embarrassment, to be caught servicing Felix by fucking Red.

Wine would never live it down. That fucker would be like a dog with a bone and would ensure that Wine never forgot it.

Maybe Felix would show mercy and they could go to his room.

He stills when he hears footsteps and a cherrful whistle, feels a pulse of panic as Felix moves with that swagger of his as he swings into the room. He grins at Wine, drawing a helpless grin back, dark eyes glancing to Red asleep in his cot, and it dampens Felix’s pretty grin.

Wine softens, at least Felix is pretty for a human if a little weird, but he had saved Coffee from a speeding car, so Wine owed him that much. He had no gold or goods to repay Felix, but Wine had something else. Lots of things could be currency, even if Wine weren’t particularly fond of it.

He wonders how Sin is making out with Sloan.

Felix strolls up to him, easy smile bright and delighted, dark eyes surprisingly bright with joy. Wine is always surprised how expressive human faces can be, had been the first time his kid had fallen underground and endeared he and his brother with a cheeky grin and a shy laugh.

Nothing about Felix is shy, everything about him screams a weird mixture of a threat and sensuality with how he moves. Kindness in how he treats everyone around him as an equal, how when he purchased Hope that silly little toy and ensure to get one for Mercy and Coffee; and a fierceness that he put himself into harms way to protect his little brother.

Felix is a walking contradiction, and Wine isn’t entirely sure how to interact with him as he perched on the edge of his bed with a grin. He keeps his voice a little lower, wanting to keep Red asleep, “Ready?” he asked brightly.

Hope had been ecstatic when Wine woke, his kid bouncing between snuggling with him and playing games with Coffee and Felix. Somehow, and truly, Wine blamed Edge for it completely, Hope had gotten it in her head that he should come down and play their silly little game with them. He blamed Edge for it since he was a soft fucker when it came to Mercy, and she had wanted Edge to play their game with them. He had folded like a wet paper bag and played Mario Party, horribly if Mercy was accurate, and now Hope wanted Wine to play with them as well.

Frankly, Wine was a soft fucker when it came to his kid too, couldn’t blame Edge for that one, and agreed to play Mario Party. What ever that was.

Felix, ever the gracious host, had agreed to assist him downstairs, bag of magic and all, so he could fulfil his duty as guardian.

Straightening, Wine gave his head a little shake, “Not yet. There’s something I wish to speak with you about.” His voice is even and soft, proper even as his stomach knots.

Felix doesn’t miss a beat, settles in next to Wine with a grin, lowering himself a little so they can speak on Wine’s level, he’s tiny compared to Felix. The mage isn’t massive like his brother, but Felix is easily at six feet, where as Wine’s meager four nine, makes it an intimidating comparison, putting Wine easily at the smallest of the crew.

Felix settles, slouching lower, “Sure, what’s up?”

Wine swallows, suddenly realizing that Felix is a huge, intimidating creature with something dark and cruel creeping in his soul. Dread fills him and he wonders if he’s making a mistake, but Wine will do anything to protect Coffee.

The words catch in his throat, and Wine freezes at the bright, pretty face as Felix’s brow furrows in confusion. His throat feels thick, like someone is choking the life out of him and his soul pulses in pain.

“Wine, you okay?” Felix’s voice breaks some of the tension from Wine’s soul, and he takes a shaky breath.

He isn’t good at this, doesn’t know how to go about this and panics. He needs to keep his brother from getting hurt, knows he can take _it,_ whatever it is, and he just stops thinking. Clawed hands reach for the front of Felix’s shirt, desperate and terrified, hauling the mage closer he jams his sockets shut, slamming sharp fanged teeth against Felix’s soft mouth.

The mage makes a shocked, muffled, distressed noise against his fangs, going stiff as a board and doesn’t kiss Wine back as he freezes. It’s awkward and not at all what Wine had been aiming for. There’s nothing sexy about it, nothing to entice the mage and he doesn’t kiss back at all.

Wine pulled away, face scalding with a humiliated blush, eye light pulled into a hard circle of embarrassment and he froze with a frown. Felix stared back at him with wide, shocked eyes, mouth dropped open in surprise.

Wine wants to die, he wants to crumble away into dust and nothingness, for the ground to open up and swallow him whole so that he never has to deal with this horrible choice again. Life is all about choices, and Wine just made a bad one. In hindsight, one that could endanger their place here in the safety of the mage’s compound.

Felix is flabbergasted, and Wine isn’t sure he’s seen the mage so shaken, so tongue tied, his mouth opening and closing in shock before he managed to sputter out, “Well that wasn’t terrible.”

Wine feels something break inside, a kind of tension, and he gives a nervous laugh before he grinds his teeth. Felix doesn’t pull away, he stays close and slowly the grin comes awkwardly back, “I mean, as far as first kisses go, I’ve had worse.”

Wine’s eye lights drop, the embarrassment scalding his soul, broiling it alive, “I apologise. That was inappropriate.”

“Well,” Felix shrugs, looking amused, “It was hardly inappropriate.” Wine looks up at Felix from under his sockets, and he’s sure his face is on fire, “It was very, preteen first kiss and I didn’t know what to do with my teeth.” He pauses, stares off at the wall over Wine’s shoulder with a little frown before he refocuses, “I never had my awkward preteen kiss, when I was a kid, so I’m assuming that’s what this was like.”

“Of course.” Wine is back to wanting to die, this was stupid and embarrassing and a dumb fucking idea, “Still, I apologise. That was foolish.”

“It was cute.” Felix sounds amused but not mocking, “It’s,” he pauses, “Okay?” he doesn’t sound completely sure, but he still chucks Wine’s chin good naturedly, his smile back to being a little flirty, “So, what was that all about?”

Wine looks back up, determined to face this mistake head on, his breath hitching at Felix’s soft eyes that hold no judgement, and Wine has no idea what to say.

Intelligent, dark eyes study Wine, takes in the scars and the fear, and something clicks in Felix’s eyes, something he understands, his voice small when he says _oh_ , “Is it because I’m hanging out with your brother?”

Wine startles, his truth being spoken through soft, human lips. His teeth part in shock, his voice small, “How did you know?”

Felix sighs, his bright grin falling, “I know the signs of abuse.” He says suddenly, making Wine’s frown deepen, “I’ve seen the scars on your brother, Hope told me Queen Toriel did it.”

“Empress.” Wine says immediately, old habits did die hard apparently, and he regrets his words. He gives a small cough, and cringes inward.

Felix’s eyes narrow, anger and gold magic flashing in his eyes, but Wine doesn’t think the anger is directed at him, “Empress.” He says slowly, “She hurt your brother.” Wine is frozen, he can’t get the words out, but he nods slowly, “She hurt you?”

Wine’s tongue traces his sharp fangs carefully as to not slice through the summoned echo. There’s no point in denying it, not when Coffee and Hope had more or less admitted to the mage the truth. He nods yes slowly, quietly, and Felix breaths slowly through his nose, “Hope?”

Wine shakes his head no, “I didn’t let her get to the Empress. I knew she wouldn’t spare Hope. I took her from the judgment hall and fled with my brother.”

Felix hums, settles a little more into Wine’s bed, leaning back onto his elbows with a nod, “Well, way I see it? I would do anything to keep my brother and sisters safe. There is _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to protect my family.” His grin softens, looks almost sad, “Including sleep with someone I thought had power over us.” 

Hard, red eye light drops again, and Wine lowers his skull in humiliation, never had he made such a stupid choice, “Again, I apologize.” His words are soft and low, far too quiet in the infirmary.

Felix hums, nudges him again, “Don’t be. Like I said, I get it. I’d do anything to keep my Den safe. But,” he hesitates, head tilting, “You don’t need to fuck any of us to keep safe. I’m not going proposition your brother. You don’t need to offer yourself in his place, there’s no place to take. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

His voice is soft and kind, and it makes something clench inside of Wine’s chest. He doesn’t believe it, can’t, no one is this kind without wanting something in return.

“I know you don’t believe me.” Wine looks to Felix’s sad face, “And that’s okay. You don’t need to right now, but nothing will hurt you here.” _Because we’re Den mates_ , are the words that Felix doesn’t say, no matter how badly he wants to. No matter how deeply he wants to keep these monsters and keep them safe, “But I promise you Wine, you’re safe here. Nothing will hurt you here.”

It’s a vow and a warning all wrapped up together. Felix _will_ keep Wine safe, Coffee too. The others of course, but there’s a pull towards these two brothers, something that leaves Felix softer and warm and viscously protective.

He hates the scars they bare, furious that they have to think that they owe him for being nice, and Felix swears he’s going to spoil them all rotten before they leave. He wonders if they have to, surely, Fate wouldn’t have given them Den mates only to take them away, would they?

Felix shakes it away, and offers a reassuring smile, “Now that, that’s out of the way, why don’t we head down?”

Wine’s face is still scarlet, but he nods quietly, drawing a brighter grin from Felix’s face. Wine’s cute, he thinks, “Come on, I won’t tell anyone about our first preteen kiss.” Its cheeky and bright, and Felix’s isn’t sure if Wine is _Sans_ enough that the weight of a promise is a heavy thing, but he does anyways, “I promise. It’s our secret.” 

The tension leaks from Wine’s shoulders, loosening slowly as he relaxes, the crimson from his skull slowly fading, leaving him exhausted, “Thank you Felix.”

The mage brightens, dampens the shutter that runs down his spine when Wine says his name, refuses to acknowledge he likes how his name rolls off Wine’s summoned tongue.

-

Red watches the awkward exchange with slit sockets, his eye lights a murky ruby, barely lit to keep the mage from seeing him awake. He grits his teeth, anger flushing his body, making his magic broil in his mana lines and flood his mouth with bitter magic.

Red gets it, he does, he’s Fell. He knows that everything comes with a price, and he wants to know what the fuck it is.

Sighing deeply, tampering his anger, reeling it back harshly and swallows it back. He needs these mages to stop being so fucking fake and tell them what they want. Red huffs, he knows that Wine wasn’t exactly the most sensual of monsters, but the offer had been plain on the table, the mage should have taken it.

Rolling over onto his back, Red glances around once Wine and Felix are gone, the mage carefully carrying Wine and rolling out his fucking bag of magic with him; Rips was still unconscious and he still wasn’t feeling great after his disgusting little soul to soul with Lilith.

He rolled his eye lights, shivered, and tried not to feel disgusted by that fact. Mercy had gushed about how _cool_ Lilith was, how she saved his life, how strong she was, how merciful. Lilith’s a fucking liar. Red doesn’t know why she would save a piece of shit like him, but he’s going to find out why.

He grins, sharp and cruel as he settles into the cot they were _kind_ enough to give him and closes his sockets. Everyone is playing nice, for now, but Red’s gonna find out what these assholes are really like.

There was a reason fate wanted him dead, and now he was the mages problem.


	10. A Chat Over Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola gets the chance to chat with some members of the Gloom and Doom Crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> I hope you have all enjoyed your week and staying safe. 
> 
> A new chapter with some new warnings. Our friends in Nightmare's crew have some pretty traumatic and tragic back stories, and Lola is going to learn a couple of them in this chapter. Take the time to head the warnings. 
> 
> WARNING: discussion of many genocidal runs underground, injury resulting permanent physical deformation, and murder

A shriek of laughter makes Lola pause in her dicing vegetables, and peek outside the kitchen with a grin; outside the kitchen, across the dining room and in one of the living rooms a group of her Den mates are clustered around the television playing Mario Party. They’re joking and laughing as they try to best each other in digital combat, and it makes her soul sing to see them having childish fun.

Lilith is in the middle of one of the couches, grinning victorious as he claims another star while she sticks her tongue out at Felix as she takes the win. Felix is glowering back at her as she knocks him from his standing at the top, down into second place. They’ve had years of practices at Mario Party, years the others haven’t had and tend to trade the winning spot back and forth, but the others appear to be having fun.

Sans is on Lilith’s right side, snuggling contently in her side with a matching grin despite being in dead last this round. Lola isn’t sure if he’s there because he wants to make the kids feel better or because he truly doesn’t care about his standing in the game, but Lola can see the _pride_ shinning in his face that it’s his girl who’s in first place. 

Edge is on Lilith’s other side, still tense and awkward, his skull still flushed with a low grade fever and he looks like he’s not sure what to do with his arms and legs on the tight couch every time Lilith brushes his arm with hers. Still, Edge is playing for the sake of the kids, improving enough to take the third place solidly with no questions on his ranking.

Lola’s mouth curls when there’s the same look of amused pride on his face as well, there and gone in the blink of an eye, missed if one wasn’t looking for it.

Wine is stretched out on the other couch, his feet propped up on pillows near Felix’s thighs, raising them up, the soft glowing of healing gauze bright in the room. Wine is still looking particularly fragile with chalky bones, dim eye lights and still wearing one of Felix’s t-shirts. It’s too big on him, even with Felix’s slim build, but he can’t tolerate pants yet on that shattered leg or tight clothing over his still sensitive ribs; the cloths they bought for him are still too much an irritants on his sensitive bones. 

The black t-shirt comes down past his hips, and the boxers he wears have cartoon bones on them, a gift from Mercy, who couldn’t stop laughing at them. He’s fiddling with his crimson scarf, solidly in seventh place, just above Sans and scalds red every time he glances in Felix’s direction. Lola finds that odd, they’d been fine not all that long ago, but Wine had been reacting almost bashful and emberressed, even when Felix continued to act normal.

Lola squints at her brother when he glances at Wine with a soft grin; okay, maybe not completely normal. He seemed softer around Wine and Coffee, kinder maybe, more like how he acted around the Den rather then allies but that was particularly true with those two.

He had a crush, it wasn’t hard to see, and Lola worried what would happen to her brother’s mental state if they did go home. He’d been doing so well lately, he’d been particularly bruised after Madelyn’s betrayal and attempted murder, and Lola thought he needed someone good in his life.

Someone, if Lola wasn’t being so bold, like Wine and Coffee? From what she had seen they were loyal to each other and Nightmare, kind to Hope, and had the makings of decent mates. Lola pushes the thought away, better not to get Felix’s hopes up to have them crushed later. 

Her dark eyes drift to where Coffee is leaning back against the couch near Felix’s legs, his shy, sweet smile pulling at his mouth while his long-sleeved t-shirt declared _happy guy and_ had since Wine had woken up.

Lola wasn’t sure what they thought of Felix, and maybe this was one those times it was better to let sleeping dogs lay.

In the middle of the room, Mercy and Hope bubble with laughter from the bean bag chairs that Felix had gotten them, laughing at the battle mage’s antics.

Lola smiles, and steps back into the kitchen, her soul full of soft love and joy despite everything. She knows she can’t keep these Den mates, understands why, but she’s always wanted a large Den to call her own. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her Den, as small as it was, because she did, but she longed for her lost childhood and those wisps of memories of having a big Den.

Lilith and Sloan better remember their long dead Den and the tragic night that Lilith’s mother killed them all in picture perfect clarity. Lola couldn’t, must have blocked the memories out to save what was left of her childhood. Compartmentalized those memories and threw away the box.

Sometimes though, she still had longings of Den mates who were long dead and all that went with it, missed people she couldn’t remember or maybe just being around a big Den. The Doom and Gloom Crew made the mage’s compound seem less empty, they breathed life into it in a way that only the stone of the building still remembered.

Lola relished it, loved having a large Den here with lots of people at the breakfast table each morning as their numbers steadily grew as they came out of the infirmary. Loved seeing the monsters slowly coming out of their shells, and bonding with the others.

It’s going to be very quiet, when they go home, and Lola tries not to dwell too much on that.

She turns back to the kitchen, intending on finishing dicing vegetables for chicken noodle soup and startles when Glass, Gore, Crow and Sugar have suddenly crowed the kitchen behind her. Bright green magic sparks and snaps at her fingers in an aborted summoning of a shield, and she jerks back from the tight group in a natural reaction to so many bodies suddenly in her space.

Too many years spend in war, too many years after that being attacked to truly give up being ready for an attack, and Lola swallows down her sudden rush of panic, breathing slowly out through her nose as she settles herself.

A cruel grin tugs at Glass’s face, amused that he’s made her startle so badly while Sugar looks remorseful, “Apologies Lola.” Sugar’s shattered mouth can only produce soft words, and he tries to comically hide his massive body behind his brother’s tiny one.

Pressing a smile, Lola softens and tries to not let them see how much she hurt to see them, “It’s okay Sug.” Her dark eyes glance to Glass, still looking smug and cruel, burnt orange magic swelling in his eye lights with unnamed emotion. Lola couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to enjoy her fright, or at least that she was nervous around him.

It’s an act she remembers seeing in Felix when they first found him, people are less likely to hurt you if they were afraid of you. 

Glass is the one always near one of the more broken Sanses or Sugar, a silent protector that was filled with open hostility. He usually spent most of his time hoovering over her while she carefully poured magic into Ripper. Glass doesn’t say much, but Lola gets the feeling that he doesn’t usually need to.

He’s still smug behind the other three while Sugar continues to speak quietly, and very hesitantly, “We, uh. We were wondering if we could have a snack.”

Gore’s eye light gleams in hope so desperate it’s painful and Crows face is flat and emotionless. So blank, Lola wonders if there’s anyone home half the time, “Of course. Help yourself to the fridge.” She tells him with the same cheer, not daring to show how the hurt, hurt her, “I’m just making lunch.”

Gore’s eye light gleam happily, his scared hand suddenly grabbing onto Crow with a bright smile. Sugar nods, polite as ever as he carefully pulls his brother deeper into the kitchen, “Thank you Lola.” It’s soft and polite, and it makes Lola smile at him.

“You’re welcome.” She’s equally as polite as she follows them into the kitchen, past Glass and back to dicing vegetables. Glass is at her back as always, looking over her head, the smugness gone and replaced with a tense line to his shoulders like he’s waiting for her to attack.

Sugar is quick to organize his brother and Crow, herding them quickly to the island in the middle of the kitchen, well out of Lola’s way and into the tall bar stools. Their short legs can’t touch the ground, and both automatically start to swing their legs while Sugar goes to the fridge.

Glass watches her for another brief moment before he slinks back to the wall near the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest while Lola went back to her cutting board and vegetables. Dark orange eye lights watch her careful, full of suspicion and uncertainty, sharp teeth clenched together tightly and gold fangs glinting in the light. Lola watches him back from the corner of her eye, unnerved by his stillness and slightly crooked smile, before she focuses on cutting up vegetables.

She was Pandora damn it, she wasn’t going to be unnerved by anyone in her own home, least of all a quiet, angry version of Papyrus. 

“What are we having for lunch?” Gore’s voice asks brightly from behind her, making Lola turn to look at him with a grin, firmly ignoring Glass.

“Chicken noodle soup with a bit of ginger. It’ll be good for queasy stomachs.” Gore’s face brightens at the promise of food and food that’s being prepared, even as Sugar hands both he and Crow an orange.

Settling in happily, they start to peel away the skin of the fruit with careful hands while Sugar turns to Lola, a little hopeful expression on his face as he stares at the oven. Lola feels something compress inward in her chest, and she put on her best smile for Sugar, “Would you like to help me get lunch ready?”

Sugar looks like someone just told him he won a grand prize of something, looking equal parts delighted and terrified, “I would love to.” His voice low and hopeful, “But I do not know how to make chicken noodle soup. No one has ever made soup for us before.”

Lola pauses, her heart sinking as she stared long and hard at Sugar, “No one…no one’s made soup for you before?”

Sugar, Gore and Crow all shakes their heads no, Gore going back to his fruit quickly, nearly shoveling the fruit into his mouth. Sugar sighs when sticky juice runs down his wrist and between his fingers. 

“No one’s cared enough to.” Crow’s voice is small, like he’s afraid to speak and Lola is sure her soul is going to gutter out with the sheer sadness these three make her feel. She watches as her grin falls as Sugar takes a damp cloth from the sink to wipe down Gore’s fingers and mouth clean of the juice.

Gore struggles, tries to duck away from his brother’s quick hands unsuccessfully. It makes Crow laugh, and Lola’s heart sinks a little more. They love each other so much, care so deeply, how the hell had they been labelled ‘the bad guys’?

Hesitant, dark eyes turn to Glass, who for once has lost the harsh, angry look, softened into confusion when he shakes his head no as well. No one’s ever made him soup, never mind cleaned juice or blood from his face or hands. 

Lola immediately fluffs up, her kindness soul pulsing with the need to do _something,_ and she presses a grin to her mouth despite how her soul throbs in hurt for these Den mates, “Well then, I’ll do it. Would you like to learn?”

Gore snorts and Crow shakes his head no, but Sugar is nodding yes with a sort of desperation that makes Lola’s kindness soul throb in pain. So eager to learn, so eager to please. Lola gives him a pleased smile that brightens when Glass steps forward with a shrug, “Sure. Whatever.”

Lola is delighted to teach them, and it doesn’t take them long to get a rhythm of dicing vegetables and making home made broth, all the while Gore is throwing out bad food puns to make his brother groan unhappily. 

They work together well, conversation light around Gore’s silly word play before Crow softly asks, “Lola, do you know when Ripper will wake up?”

Lola pauses as she stirs the pot of soup, frowning, “I dunno Crow. He’s getting everything he needs from us, but he took a lot of damage to his spine.”

Gore frowns up at her, legs kicking out childishly, “I hope he wakes up soon.” It’s wistful and sad, a longing for some normality in his voice.

“I do too.” Lola agrees, she wanted to see Ripper be okay, to join back with the others to complete the set, but Lola knows better then to give false promises. You only do that once in war, and after that you guarantee nothing. With a sigh, she checks the soup and nods, “Okay, well. Now we let it simmer for a little longer then we can eat.”

She puts the lid back on and goes to perch on one of the counters, her own feet swinging, and her words are moving faster then her brain can process, “So. What are your worlds like?” she wants to snatch back the question the moment they’re out of her mouth. Stupid, stupid words that shouldn’t have been asked with such carelessness.

The four monsters still in the room, each looking a little more horrified then the last, Sugar looks a little more scared then the others and Lola think he might cry. 

Crow recovers first, looking down to tare little pieces of his orange peel away with a little shrug, “Empty.” His words are small and cold, his face easily blank, “Dusty. Between me and the kid, we killed everyone.”

He shrugs, but Lola stays quiet, hoping he would continue. He does with a cold, steady voice, “My kid wasn’t like yours.” Crow says blankly, “We made it to the surface once, only because she wanted to see if she could. After that, she just wanted to hurt people.” When he smiles, it’s broken and crooked, “She told me once, that she wanted to see what would break worse. My bones or my mind.”

His smile falls as he tares at the orange peel into smaller pieces, face going back to carefully blank, “My mind broke worse,” he admits, “and I knew the only way to stop it, was to be stronger. So, I killed everyone from Waterfall to Snowdin, made it quick, so they didn’t suffer.” Crow shrugs, “Wasn’t enough. Eventually the kid figured out how to get around me to take out the monsters in Hotland and New Home. I never could win, always trapped in a cycle of despair, always to lose.”

There’s a moment, when Lola feels her soul twist and Crow’s face crumples, “It hurt the most to kill Paps. But eventually even that stopped hurting. Sometime around the two-hundredth time, it just didn’t hurt anymore.”

Lola isn’t sure what she’s feeling as the words tumble softly out of his mouth. Horror maybe, fury perhaps. She wonders distantly, for all Dream’s bolstered words and speeches about being a good guy, where they fuck was he when some little shit tore Crow apart? Where the hell was Ink when timeline after timeline fell apart at the whims of a deranged child?

Where the fuck were the good guys when _Crow_ needed them? Where were they, when Sans fell apart and shattered into a million pieces and was left on his own to pick up said pieces to become Crow. They didn’t come for him, but Nightmare did.

“How many times?” Her voice is soft and hesitant, curious. Lola knows that Sans endured ninety-four good runs with Frisk, but he doesn’t talk about the bad runs, not with her at least. Lilith knows more then the others, whispered secrets from nightmares that were only spoken in the dead of night and the safety of their bed. Frisk’s stolen memories are a little warped, hard to follow and probably because Frisk actively tries to block them out.

Lola still gets nightmares of the memories shared from Frisk via Lilith, and thus far she’s counted a hundred and two bad runs with Sans.

Crow’s face fell, and he shrugged, “Not many,” he rasps, “Five hundred and thirty-six. I think. Its hard to keep track how many times she ripped me apart sometimes. Some days are clearer than others.”

Lola stills, her feet stop swinging as she stares at him and she swears she can feel her heart stop, “Pardon?”

Crow looks back up with a hum, and repeats himself, “Five hundred and thirty-six. That’s how many times I remember her killing me.” He huffed a little laugh, “Sometimes I’d get her first. I killed her lots, but she always won. It’s easy when you know what’s coming.”

Anger swells, and Lola’s vice, _hatred_ , bursts from its carefully contained box and her LV suddenly burns through her in ways it hasn’t since the war. Five hundred and thirty-six times. Lola rolls that number around for a moment, tries to comprehend what that really means, and how much Crow, _Sans,_ suffered alone. How no one came to save Crow, how easily Sans, Lilith’s Sans, could have been Crow. _~~She thinks how they hadn’t been there for him, they hadn’t been his shield, his sword when Crow needed them the most. The mages hadn’t been there when their Den mate was brutalized five hundred and thirty-six times.~~_

Her eyes flood black, a rare feeling of that much anger fills her and Lola hunches in on herself and grips at the edge of the counter to control her magic. A shield flickers around them in the kitchen, and in a distracted sort of way, she can hear Lilith and Felix have stopped bickering in the living room when they feel her volatile magic.

“Lola?” Glass’s deep voice draws her attention, and he freezes when he sees her eyes that are solid black. He swallows, glancing nervously to the three at the island, and Lola knows he’s preparing himself to get between them and her if she snaps.

She shoves it down, blinks away the fury and reels in her vice hard, “Sorry. That’s just. It’s a big number.” She breaths slowly like she’s been taught and can’t remember the last time she was this angry at something.

Jerry came pretty close, and he still bore the scars of her anger, no healer wishing to draw the mages wrath by fixing his wrist, neither hers nor Lilith’s. A close second for sure, but second none the less.

Glass’s sockets narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking like he wants to snap at her, but it’s Sugar’s voice that’s soft and hesitant, “You’re angry at Crow?”

Shock ripples through her and it helps Lola pull in the rest of her anger and bury it away with long dead memories, “No.” she sounds aghast at herself, that she would make them feel like that, “No Sugar no. I’m not angry at Crow. I’m furious at that horrible little creature that hurt him.”

Sugar relaxes nearly instantly, massive shoulders dropping low with a heavy sigh, “Oh, this is a relief.” Sugar tells her with a level of cheer that is reminiscent of Papyrus, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be a horrible person.”

Lola blinks at him, Sugar blinks back and she bursts out with merry laughter. Any of the anger still in her soul had evaporated at his words, and the shield around them flickers out of existence, one summoned in a misguided attempt to protect them from a threat long since past, “No, I’m not a terrible person.” She confirms with a nod, the tight line in her shoulders softening.

Sugar nods, pleased, and Crow huffs a little laugh, “Heh, your weird.”

“So, I’ve been told.” Lola wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, and Crow looks up almost amused, soft, almost like Sans, “But, Nightmare came for you?”

Crow nods, and another piece of the weird little puzzle that was the Gloom and Doom Crew snapped into place. No one came for Crow, certainly not the _good guys_ , but Nightmare had. Crow sits up straighter, looking amused and his voice is almost bright, as happy as Crow can be, “Nightmare used to call me Murder Sans. But I changed my name.”

Lola blinks at him and Sugar sighs as if this pained him somehow, but his grin is broken and amused. Crow, Gore and Glass all lean forward, as if expecting her to come to some kind of conclusion and Lola’s brow furrows before she slowly asks, “Crow, is your name a pun?”

In the days that they’ve been there, Lola hasn’t seen Crow grin once, but when the words leave her mouth, Crow grins bright and happy, and he looks like Sans briefly. Lola sighs, her mouth curling into a smile, “As in a Murder of Crows?”

Gore and Glass cackle, as it finally clicks in Lola’s head that at their core, they’re still Sans and Crow looks so proud of himself for his own name. It cracks the tension enough that when Lilith calls to Lola, asking if she’s okay, Lola easily waves her off.

“I’m sorry that happened to you Crow.” Lola tells him eventually, wiping away another tear, “That wasn’t okay that happened to you.”

Crow looks down again, shrugging, “Nightmare got me out. Left that little creature alone and trapped underground, she can’t get out. So she gets to starve to death and reset, for ever and ever. Trapped in her own loop, a fitting end for her.”

Lola nodded, feeling like it wasn’t enough, that the little shit deserved something more, “Good.” Crow gives her a quick, amused look before he drops his sockets back to his folded hands, falling quiet again. Not wanting to press him, her feet start to swing again, dark eyes looking to Sugar and Gore, “What about your worlds?”

Gore’s face scrunches in thought and Sugar looks down as if ashamed. Gore’s words are carefully measured when he speaks, “I don’t remember the kid so much. I think she killed monsters willy-nilly. No rhyme or reason for it, and when she left, she didn’t come back.”

“Undyne became the empress after the rebellion.” Sugar adds softly, moving to clean up the orange peels on the island, “She wanted to start another war with the humans because the child killed Asgore and freed the other souls.”

“But she was…” Gore’s face scrunched up in confusion, “What’s that word? When you can’t process reality?” he snaps his fingers and brightens, “Delusional.” He blushes red and he looks away from Lola, almost bashful, “Sometimes I lose words. I think when Undyne smashed my skull in she knocked out some of my brains.”

Crow snorted, “You never had any to begin with.”

Gore kicked him from under the table, sharp and hard in the knee, but Crow just grins back at him, “Still fuck’n smarter then you!” he informed Crow brightly, earning another snort from the monster.

It endears Lola to them all the more, makes her want to keep these broken Den mates, keep them safe in ways that someone long before her should have.

“We ended up with Nightmare not long after that.” Sugar added on softly, “After bad things happened.” Sugar’s big hands knot and tangle together, “Nightmare saved us. And in return, we helped him keep the balance.”

Lola gave him a sad smile, softening towards Nightmare as well, the only one who helped them. Lola doubted that it was due to his nonexistent good nature, and he did it for his own reasons, but he did it all the same.

Yet, that was an assumption too, wasn’t it? 

“Did Undyne do that to you too Sugar?” her voice is soft again, hesitant as Sugar nods.

“Yes, she hit me first and kept hitting me until Sans,” Sugar cringed, quickly correcting himself, “Gore pulled her off me.”

Lola frowns, chest compressing again when she looks to his shattered teeth and poorly healed jaw, “Sugar, could I take a look at your jaw?”

He freezes, his massive body scrunching down in fear, and his hands wring harder, “I…I suppose.” He glances up at her with squinted, tiny sockets, “It…you won’t hurt me?”

“I’ll be very gentle.” Lola promised as she carefully slid off the counter.

Sugar squirmed, and around her Lola could feel the harsh, hot glare on the back of her neck from the others as she gently reached for his jaw, knows that if she hurt Sugar, she’ll pay for it. Her hands are gentle, painfully so as she examines his shattered teeth and poorly healed bones. Careful when she tips his skull one way, then the other as she looks at Sugar with a keen eye, looking at how the bone have fused back together.

Just as softly, Lola pulled away, her smile a little on the sad side and around her the other relaxed, “Sug, I don’t think I can fix this.” He deflates at her soft words, looking sad as he nods, “But I have a friend. His name is Dominic. He’s a battle mage that works with black smiths, he who specializes in magical prosthetics. He might be able to help.” She pauses, gaging his interest and is pleased when Sugar brightens a little, “I can message him, if you like.”

Sugar looks down at his hands, fear creeping into his features when he softly asks, “Would you stay with me when he came over?”

Lola frowns at the soft, sad words that are underlined with fear, “Of course I will Sugar. I’ll stay the whole time.” She pauses, and gives him a little grin, “I’ll even have Lilith and Felix be on standby, so if he hurts you, they can break something of his.”

It’s a moot point, Lola wouldn’t have suggested Dominic if she thought he would have hurt them, but Sugar relaxed all the same and nods. 

“I would like…that would be most wonderful...thank you human.” Sugar’s words are slow and careful, any excitement held back carefully, like he’s afraid to hope for something better.

It sparks Lola’s rarely ignited rage again, but she’s ready for it after Crow’s truth and she’s better able to pull it back, “Your welcome Sugar.”

He looks delighted, and Lola can’t honestly tell if it’s because she’s being nice to him or because she’s speaking to him at all. Pulling out her phone, she sends a message to Dominic, Alphys and Undyne; Dominic and Alphys have come up with ingenious prosthetics that are a blend of magic and mechanical that have only gotten better when they started working together. She sends one to Undyne in hopes that Sugar will see her as something else other than an enemy.

Thumbs tapping quickly over the glass face of her phone, Glass clears his throat, almost as if he’s unsure he’s allowed to speak before asking, “Do ya think they could look at Coffee’s braces? They ‘prolly need tightening.”

Lola nods, taps out another message, “Dental work isn’t really their area of expertise, but they would know who to go to.” She pauses looks up at Glass, quick to add, “Dominic would know who to trust.”

“Could Dominic check Glass’s sockets?” Gore asks suddenly, bright and cheery, earning a glare from the taller, scared monster. He continues cheekily, “He can’t see for shit.”

Glass growled low in his throat as darkness clouds his face, and Lola bites her cheek to stop from smiling at watching Gore torment another version of his little brother. “Sin can’t see shit either.” Glass grumbles a little bitterly, and Lola can’t bite back her smile a second time.

“I can ask Dom if he knows anyone who’s good with sight as well.” It’s an offer not an order, and some of the tension leaks from Glass’s shoulders at the choice.

Lola sees it, sees the stress flow out of his body and knows that someone, somewhere has done something to him without his consent, but she doesn’t react to it. Glass itches at the gold button at the right side of his jaw hinge, and with a shrug muttering, “Whatever. Sure.”

Nodding again, Lola gives him a little smile and types out another message, “If it makes you feel better, we’ll all be here too. We won’t let anyone mess with you.”

Glass snorts, sounding offended, “I don’t need to be looked after.” He snaps at her, making the others go quite in the room, frowning at him, “I can take care of myself.”

Lola nodded passively, not even bothering to reach for magic. Not out of some misplaced thoughts that she could take Glass in a fight, but because she honestly believed he wouldn’t hurt her, “I never said you couldn’t.” her voice is even and soft, and she doesn’t change the inflection of her tone, “But sometimes its nice to know that someone else has your back.”

The others are tense and still, even Crow looks upset at the prospect of a fight when Glass loosens again to slouch against the wall at his back, “Whatever.” It’s sulky and childish, but Lola isn’t going to coddle him.

Instead she sends another message, and when Dominic sends her a response he laughs and tells her that he’ll bring his whole Den, they’re all healers and can be trusted. It sets Lola at ease, “Dom and his Den will be here tomorrow.” She gives them a smile, and Sugar looks delighted.

It unwinds some tension that Lola had since she began to work on them, knows she isn’t alone in their care and she’s doing all she can for these broken Den mates. She checks the soup and is endeared by the sheer delight from the skeletons in the room when she declares its ready, especially Gore’s eagerness and Crow’s curiosity.

Heaving a sigh, Glass pushes himself off the wall to help her spoon out bowl’s of soup for each of them and shoo them all to the dining room to eat before she calls the others for lunch. They’re close to each other, would have been shoulder to shoulder had Lola gotten any height, and Glass is a warm line against her side.

“Thanks.” He mutters suddenly, his face scalding in orange, “For everything.”

Lola nods, handing a bowl to him, his large, clawed hands gripping it a little too tight, “You’re welcome Glass.” She gives him a gentle smile, and he goes impossibly oranger.

He clears his throat, eye lights down and away from her soft face, “Yeah. Well. Thanks for not asking about my world too.”

Lola nods, and is careful to keep her expression the same even after he’s turned away and shuffles from the kitchen. Lola isn’t stupid, far from it; she may not be as book smart as Sloan or tactically inclined as Lilith, but Lola could read people even without the Soul Trait. She just could, and she can see the pain radiating off Glass from a mile away.

She wasn’t cruel enough to ask him about his world when clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it. Besides, it didn’t take a genius to see that Nightmare had a type. He took Sanses, mostly, that came from dark and broken universes and gave them a purpose. He gave them a chance and hope for a better future _for them_.

She frowns into the dining room and thinks about what they had said. They are part of the balance of the multiverse, the other side of the coin, the death to the life, and that was a better option for them then their home lives.

Lola can see the parallels to the Doom and Gloom Crew, see how they are _just like them_ even now. Even back when the mages were caught in a vicious war, even then no one was comfortable with the Pandora Den. Even when, even still, their own Coven feared _them._

With a sigh, Lola spoons some soup into her own bowl, her chest tight and expression sad before she presses on a happy grin.

She wants to keep this Den mates. They belong with the mages, and she refuses to believe that Fate would be so cruel to give them Den mates they can’t keep. Something will happen, Lola believes, that will bring these broken skeletons back to them, or better yet, entice them to stay. They were better off here anyhow, it’s not like the multiverse cared about them anyways.

That much, Lola believes in. 


	11. Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red has a strong dislike to tomato soup. Lilith finds this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> The next chapter is up and live, a little more bonding with our friends here. 
> 
> We are heading into troubled waters soon, and something real bad is going to be happening to one of our friends. There's (including this one) three chapters until the start of rough stuff, and this will be fresh trauma for all involved. There will be warnings as always on those chapters, but now maybe a good time to remind yourself of tags and warnings. Remember, the Den and the Crew don't come from happy universes, they've had to carve and fight for their peace, but that danger and cruelty is still there. 
> 
> But that's a later us problem. In the mean time, enjoy a little more happiness and bonding. There are some warnings here to be aware of. 
> 
> WARNINGS: implied/memories of rape/non-con, its vague and not detailed. It's there so please be safe. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Keen, bright eye lights watch the newcomers buzz around the infirmary with an oily layer of bitterness and doubt. Red trusted the mages about as far as he could throw them, and he trusted these new healers even less, leaving him feeling uncertain and way too on edge about the whole thing.

Licking his teeth, Red’s crimson eye lights slid over to where Felix is again playing a board game with the girls and Coffee, only this time they’ve roped Wine into playing with them. Crimson eye lights narrowed in irritation at Winey, that dumb fuck should know better then to trust these mage’s kindness, and he shouldn’t be grinning as brightly as he was or looking so happy at being included. Wine should know better, should be mistrusting these stupid hummies as deeply as he did and getting ready for their inevitable betrayal, not playing fucking board games.

Mercy cackled as she won something, and Red briefly softens at her happiness before he quickly smothered it as he remembered where the fuck he was and who was around. The infirmary seems tighter with the four additional humans, or mages, or whatever the fuck they were but apparently, they were healers.

Red’s scowl darkened as he watched two of them crowd in around his crew mates, examining their faces with sharp eyes and hands that are way too close if anyone bothered to ask Red how he felt about it. It was bull shit, the whole thing. Red’s whole fucking job was to keep the Crew safe, but that was pretty fucking hard to do when they allowed these strangers to get all up in their business.

_~~And frankly, it’s not like Red could stop a kitten from hurting any of them at the moment, now could he? He was ten shades of fucked up, had had magic injected into his soul direct from a mage and that’s fucking gross isn’t?~~ _

One of the new mages, Dominic, is a huge, brick wall of a man. Taller than even Ryder, with thick arms like tree trunks, but the left one is missing from the elbow down and replaced with one of his own prosthetics. The shiny silver metal of his arm shimmers softly in green, powered by his kindness soul, the silver a stark contrast to his smooth, dark skin.

His smile is gentle as he talks to Sugar, his deep, baritone voice soft and reassuring, “Nah, I’m a battle mage.” Dominic tells Sugar with pride, puffing up his chest, “I served with Lilith and Felix,” he jerked a shiny, metal thumb at Felix with a grin, “Kept his idiot alive when his sister wasn’t around.”

Red expect Felix to react violently, tensing while he waits for the fight to start, knowing that if this came to blows, Mercy and Hope were way too close to the mage. Instead, Felix looks over his shoulder with a bright grin, “Thanks Dom. Really do ‘preciate it.” Before he goes back to his game, nodding sagely to Wine, “Its true though. I suck back dumb bitch juice from a sippy cup, and if Lilith weren’t around to keep be from doing dumb bitch things,”

“Like stopping a booty call across no man’s land, after your sister told you not to go and broke both your damn legs to stop you. _Then_ she was sent to extra patrols for two weeks straight because of it.” Dominic adds helpfully with a grin.

Felix nods along placidly “Then Dominic kept me alive.” 

Dominic chuckles when Felix flashes him a grin, “It’s true. Felix is baby, and a bad bitch, but also, a dumb bitch.” 

The mages laugh, and Red is sure he isn’t getting the full extent of the joke and he resents them all the more for it. In the span of a minute, Dominic, who’s supposed to be Felix’s buddy, has called him a dumb bitch, baby and a bad bitch, and Red doesn’t get why that’s fucking funny.

Sugar cringes as one of Dominic’s partners, a tiny woman, a Fae that only came up to Dominic’s elbow with wide, bright pink wings, carefully prods at Sugar’s jaw with a furrowed brow. Sugar is doing his best to ignore her, clinging to Lola’s hand as he focuses on Dominic. 

Red can see what they’re doing, that Lola and Dominic are distracting Sugar so the Fae can examine his jaw, and Sugar is desperate to play along despite how tightly he hold onto Lola’s hand, “I thought all battle mages had the healing trait.” Sugar’s voice is soft and desperate, needed them to keep talking.

Dominic shakes his head no, not at all offended as he resettles on his stool, “Nope. I’ve got the botany trait, just like Ryder.” His grin widens, soft and kind, and it helps settle Sugar, “Took me a bit to realize that roots could be used as a stabbing weapon.” He gave a light shrug, “When I lost my arm, I didn’t have the healing trait to grow it back. We were cut off from our unit and Lilith and Felix dragged me twelve miles to get me home when I went into shock. Pumped me full of magic and kept me stable until we were able to rejoin our unit. I’m a battle mage, so I thought to myself, well shoot, if I can summon a sword, I can summon an arm. So, I just did it.”

Felix looked back over at them, white teeth flashing in a grin, “It was metal as fuck. The army had never seen anything like it before. Bad, fucking, ass.”

Dominic chuckled lowly with a nod, “Lotta mages could never grasp how to do that. Its different then summoning weapons, so I started thinking. What about the mages who don’t have the healing trait who lost limbs? What about them? That’s when I started working with the black smiths who make magical weaponry to start creating prosthetics, powered by the magic of their soul, like the one Morel has.” He tilts his head down to the tiny Fae’s coppery colored prosthetic that moved as nimbly as her own leg.

“Dom’s being bashful,” Lola gushes from Sugar’s side, “Dominic’s prosthetics revolutionised the entire healing industry. It changed everything in how we manage medical cases.”

Dominic suddenly looked shy, his face going scalding in a blush at Lola’s praise, “Well. It only made sense.” He shrugged, as if it was nothing.

Felix snorted, “Bad ass.” He called out over his shoulder, making Wine sigh as another curse fell from Felix’s lips, even as Felix flashes Wine a bright grin.

Red rolled his eye lights at the softness of it all, and he can’t understand how any of these soft fuckers _survived_ a war, never mind lead in it.

The Fae, Morel, stood and took a step back from Sugar’s body with a gentle smile, “Okay Sugar. We can fix your jaw and teeth.” Red sat up a little straighter at those soft words, eye lights burning bright and swears if this bitch gets his hopes up, Red will break her other leg, “But its going to take time.”

Sugar shifts nervously, and Lola pats his hand gently as Morel continues, “Your jaw has healed poorly along here.” Her own slim finger touches her jaw hinge and lower jaw, “So before we can fix your teeth, we need to realign your jaw.”

“How do we do that?” it was Crow’s cold, hard voice from the next cot over drew the healers’ light grey eyes to he and Gore. They’re both looking angry and vicious, and it helps set Red at ease. At least someone’s not acting like a fucking idiot.

Morel winces when she sees Gore’s skull, it’s the third time she’s done so and Red’ll give her a matching one if she says _anything_ to upset him, and clears her throat, “We would come back and provide a general anesthetic to Sugar, and once he’s out, we would rebreak his jaw.”

Gore snarls from the corner of the room, his socket blooming in crimson magic like blood in a pool of water, and Felix has gone tense between Coffee and Wine. He looks over at them with bright, molten gold eyes, his mouth pulled into a hard, grim line and Morel is quick to continue, to reassure them, hands up in surrender, “We would then heal the bones properly. Immediately.” She’s very quick to assure, “When he’s still asleep and can’t feel anything.”

That seems to calm Gore, but he and Crow are still glowering darkly at her and are only soothed when Lola tells them it’s okay, that she wont allow anything to hurt Sugar, reassuring that Morel was their friend and ally. Only when Lola nods to her, does Morel dare continue, “We would then use braces to slowly move your teeth back into place. We will have to file the sharpened edges down, but it will be done gradually so it does not hurt. Everything needs to be done slowly, in careful steps.”

Red glares at them for those words, doesn’t trust them and doesn’t trust that they wont hurt Sugar if given half the chance. He knows that people will be as terrible as they want to be, so long as someone else gives them permission to do so and Red doesn’t have any faith that the mages will actually keep them safe.

Sugar nods, looking down and Red can see the fear there, the uncertainty, and it makes his hackles rise. “Do I have to make a decision now?” Sugar’s voice is small and careful, as if he’s afraid he’s going to be struck for even suggesting they wait.

Morel’s face softened with sadness, but it’s Lola who speaks next with a firmness that Red’s starting to grow used to, “No. No sweetie, you don’t have to do anything right now. Take some time and think about it, okay?”

Sugar nods slowly, his long, thick fingers cling to her hand, “Thank you Lola.”

Their healer nods, giving Sugar a gentle smile that Red doesn’t trust. He doesn’t trust any of them, there’s something wrong with them, they’re liars, all of them. They must be.

Any tension in the room is broken when Gore’s raspy voice calls out, “Do you think you can fix my skull?” Morel and Dominic turn to look at him, Dominic wincing at the massive hole in Gore’s skull but neither see the bright smirk on his face. Sugar does and he’s already sighing deeply, “Or is it you can’t fix a _hole_ lot of nothing?”

Morel looks horrified at his joke, her mouth falling open in dignified shock as Dominic laughs, “Are you making hole related puns?”

Gore looks delighted, and it helps Crow to relax at his side, “Well, you do really have to consider the _hole_ package of a problem.”

It makes Dominica laugh harder and Lola gives them an amused smile despite how horrified Morel looks, “Gore’s got a _hole_ list of problems.” Crow’s voice is rough and low, his grin a shade on the unhinged side, but amused non the less, “And he needs another like he needs a _hole_ in his head.”

“I’ve got ninety-nine problems but my head ain’t one.” Gore is quick to chime in, making his brother sigh deeply, quietly muttering so that only Lola can hear, “Yes, but it’s certainly one of mine.”

“No.” Crow is quick to agree, not hearing Sugar’s words or Lola’s giggle, “I’ve never had any complaints about your head.” They both look eagerly to Dominic, who bursts out laughing in deep, belly laughs, making both Gore and Crow look incredibly pleased with them selves. 

They look even more pleased by Morel’s scandalized expression, and that more then anything else, makes Lola giggle. The Fae are often prim and proper, and don’t find dark humor at all funny. Lola doesn’t share such a sentiment, and the same can be said for most mages if Dominic’s laughter was anything to go by.

The whole, _heh,_ exchange makes Red’s eye lights roll, and he can’t understand how Gore and Crow out of all of them, are making nice with the fucking humans. Not after what their kids had done to them, but here they fucking were. 

Sugar squeezes Lola’s hand, brining her attention back to him with a gentle smile, his words so soft that Red has too strain to hear, “Lola, I think Glass needs you to hold his hand now.”

Lola and Red both look to Glass with a frown, and Red doesn’t bother to try to hide it or his narrowed sockets. Glass is tense as if someone had rammed a rod up his ass, spine straight and shoulders a tense, painful line while the third of Dominic’s Den is way too far into his personal space.

His big hands clutch at the blankets at the cot, razor sharp claws taring into the thick fabric as he tries to hide his fear; the women before him is massive, easily as large and tall as both Ryder and Dominic, her skin a deep green and massive tusks come up from her lower jaw.

She’s an orc, built like a shit brick house and twice as sturdy and is apparently the best optometrist in all of Ebott despite her sheer size and sausage fingers. She could snap Glass in half without breaking a sweat, and Red doesn’t blame Glass from being a little tense around this massive woman despite her not having a shred of LV.

This massive orc was solidly at LV 1, and spoke with a gentle, happy voice.

Lola gave Sugar a gentle smile, patted his arm and left him to sigh tiredly at his brother and Crow while Dominic laughed harder at each joke that he and Gore tossed at each other until the big mage was doubled over and wheezing with helpless giggles.

Red watched with careful eye lights as Lola slipped from Sugar’s cot to go sit with Glass, and Red watches as she wrapped her hand in a shield before she carefully pried Glass’s claws from the bed. A small amount of stuffing was pulled out with his claws, but Lola ignored it as she gently pets Glass’s hand even as his fingers curled tightly around hers. Lola doesn’t say anything as she threads her fingers between his and doesn’t laugh when his hand trembles softly in hers.

It makes Red roll his eye lights watching Glass, who has a reputation worse then Red’s, tremble like a bitch in heat and cling to the soft little healer like she could fucking protect him. The fuck was Lola gonna do if the orc decided that she was going to break Glass’s neck? Heal her to death? 

Distantly, Red wonders what Lola’s LV actually is, he never did get the low down from his bro on what the mage’s Check had said. He’ll ask later, when there’s not so many people around, when they’re not all packed tightly into the infirmary and not so many tempers are flaring.

He’ll ask later, at a better time and exercise his rarely used patience. 

The orc, Bula, continued her bright chatter, asking Glass if he could see better now? Or now? Quick to scribble down his answers, barely acknowledging that Lola has slipped in next to Glass and is holding is fucking hand.

Red rolled his eye light again, the little bitch that he was, some protector.

Next to them, Sin and Sloan chatted happily with Shel, Bula’s younger sister and the only one of Dominic’s Den who wasn’t a healer. She was a designer, apparently, and made everything that Dominic made, or her sister glasses look _cool_.

Sin had sat happily, after letting Bula poke and prod at his face until they found the perfect prescription for him, leaving him to look through options of glasses and sunglasses. Red knew he found the pair he liked, the idiot, a black half rimmed pair of glasses and a pair of aviators, now he was just flirting with Sloan and Nightmare to be a nuisance.

He pulled another pair from the box gently, putting on the cat-eye glasses with a little bit of magic to grin back at Sloan and Nightmare, “Heya boss, am I your favorite pussy now?”

It makes Sloan and Shel giggle happily, and Nightmare heaves a sigh, but Red can see the amusement in is face. It makes Red sick, annoyed that even Nightmare was so easily bought over by these mages and their hallow kindness.

Nightmare leans back onto his hands, head tilted, his eye light shining healthy and bright, “Yes Sin, you’re my favorite pussy.”

To hear Nightmare’s serious, usually cold voice soften with amusement and to hear him say the word ‘pussy’ is jarring to Red, whose only ever seen Nightmare as an unstoppable force. He curses the mages again, blames them for making them all go soft, what are they going to do when they all go home and have to go back to how things were?

_~~Red doesn’t want to go home. His kid and Edge are happy, and as much as it irritates him, that’s what’s most important.~~ _

_~~Its not fair that they’ll lose out because the mages had to be fucking nice.~~ _

On the cot next to him, Edge is sitting with his long, thin legs tucked neatly beneath him at the end of his cot facing Sans; Edge is playing with Mercy’s Switch, hell bent on getting better at Mario Party, whatever the fuck that was, since Mercy wanted him to play with them.

Apparently, Edge is sick of losing to Lilith and Felix all the time, and that weird competitive spirt of his has decided to make a comeback. Red was glad to see it, not so glad to see Edge getting attached to this soft version of himself that’s all weird smiles and bright eye lights.

Again, just like the rest of them, it’s going to hurt his brother to leave Sans and Lilith behind, because they had to be fucking nice to him and he got all attached. The same with Nightmare and Sin, and Glass and the rest of them.

They were all going to get hurt when it was time for them to get kicked out. When they went back to their reality, they were going back to being the bad guys and being treated like shit by the rest of the multiverse. It sucked being the bad guy, but that was their cross to bear and they didn’t deserve to have this kindness ripped away from them. Hadn’t they all suffered enough?

Even footsteps brought Red’s eye lights to the door of the infirmary, and he automatically snarls when Lilith and Ryder carefully step past the thresh hold. Ryder carrying a large pot, Lilith at his heels with bowls and spoons; Papyrus, and Red’s soul cramped whenever he saw this version of his brother, whole and safe and happy, brining up the rear with a stack of cups and juice.

Dominic looks over to them, his grin bright as he tsks at Lilith, “Oh, please tell me you didn’t cook Lil. I still can’t taste right after the last time I ate your cooking.”

Setting the bowls onto the table, Lilith huffs at him, and Red can see the signs of two old friends and an inside joke, “Dom, that was like. One time, and I didn’t know jalapeno peppers were hot.”

Dominic sighed, looked to Gore and Crow while shaking his head dramatically, “You see what I gotta put up with?” it made Crow and Gore laugh, at what, Red had no idea.

“Do not worry Dominic!” Papyrus chimed in brightly as they set up the table and began to spoon soup out into bowls, “My divine date mate made lunch, and it is as delicious as he is.”

Dominic burst into peels of laughter at Papyrus’s words as Ryder’s face goes bright red but its still soft with affection when he looks at Papyrus, spilling a bit of soup on his hand because he wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh thank the Fates.” Dominic says brightly, accepting a bowl from Papyrus with a happy grin, “We’ll eat like king’s todays, and walk away with our taste buds intact.”

Lilith sighs, sticking her tongue out at Dominic good naturedly that only makes Dominic laugh harder and stick his tongue back out at her. Immature shits, and Red still can’t see how they hell they survived a vicious war.

She hands a bowl to Red, and he takes it with his usual cold, uncaring way, being careful of the clear tubes that still feed magic into his soul and one to Edge. Red freezes when he stares down into his tomato soup and feels his stomach churn.

He glances up and sees Edge’s face, and he knows that his brother is feeling the same.

Unwanted memories try to bubble up. Memories of Underfell, and times Muffet had hidden Spider Cider in tomato soup to trick them into eating it. The dark memories of the things she had done to their bodies when they were prone and helpless, the things she let others do if they had enough gold to line her pockets. Things they eventually allowed them to do before they had any other place to go, long before Red became Asgore’s Judge and Edge became captain of the Royal Guard.

Sometimes, when he’s not actively suppressing shitty memories of home, Red can still feel hands on his body. Like a ghost touching him, fleeting and dirty, caressing his thigh, spreading his knees when he was too weak and drugged to fight back, and…

Red fights down the rising bile at the back of his throat, and fear nearly chokes him, and Edge isn’t looking all that much better. He’s gone tense staring at the bowl in his hands, eye light small and hard, and Red doesn’t doubt for a moment that Edge feels the same not there touch of long dead monsters on his body.

Hands trailing up his spine, always on the cusp of pain as the owner of said hands decided if they wanted to hurt them or give unwanted pleasure. If they wanted to force their bodies into betraying their minds and…

Red suppresses the memories as hard as he can. If he snaps, so will Edge, and it’s not something they need. Both of their control is already suspiciously shaky, the hairline cracks are starting to widen into something thicker, and Red doesn’t need the hassle.

_~~Red doesn’t want the nightmares that are going to follow if they force this down their gullets, and already he’s swallowing hard to keep the bile down. But they can’t offend their hosts, not for them, they aren’t worth it. Ripper still needs help, so do the others, and Mercy’s happy here. Surely, he and Edge can choke this down, it’ll be fine, it has to be. Red’ll just close his sockets and pretend its something else, he’s good at that. He…~~ _

Sans frowns up at Edge, all soft concern and gentle eye lights, “You okay Edge?” the gentle voice breaks Red’s spiralling thoughts, drawing stricken eye lights back to Sans, giving him the chance to refocused.

“Yes. I’m fine, thank you.” Edge tells him blankly, staring into the bowl his voice oddly small. It makes Lilith and Sans both frown at him, sharing a concerned look.

“You sure dude?” Sans asks again lightly, “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

“It’s fine.” Edge’s words are unusually empty as he stares at his tomato soup, face impassive and it makes the mage and Sans look nervous.

“Edge?” Lilith’s voice is soft and careful, drawing hard eye lights up to her cold face, “Would you like something else to eat?” She may not understand why Edge is panicking about soup, but she’s smart enough to see that he is.

It makes something cramp in Red’s soul because they’re being so nice to his brother. They don’t have to offer him something else and knowing Edge he’d choke down his panic with the soup if it meant keeping their position here secured.

Red’ll go hungry before he eats soup, rather then pretend everything’s fine then upset the delicate balance they’ve found here.

Edge looks up at them, and his relief is so thick it’s palatable, “Thank you.” He rasps quietly embarrassed even as the tight line of his shoulders loosens.

Lilith nods, taking the bowl back from him and is quick to hand it off to Felix when Sans asks, “Do you want some left-over Chicken Noodle soup? I can heat some up?”

Edge nods desperately, unable to hide his relief that he isn’t going to have to choke down the tomato soup, “Thank you Sans.”

Lilith steps back to their bed, sees that Red is still staring with distaste at his own bowl, not looking a whole lot better then Edge had been, “Red?” he cringes at her voice, curling a little inward and away from her, “Would you like some chicken noodle soup as well?”

Red’s doesn’t do well with soups in general. Edge could eat them if they were anything but tomato soup, although butternut squash sometimes bothered his pallet, but not Red. Soup in general had too much of a _mouth feel_ that made his body revolt and fight against magic that wasn’t there.

It made his mouth fill with bitter magic and made him feel like he was going to hurl, any appetite he may have had withered under the memories of sour magic hidden among thick broth. Moody and tired, Red shoved the bowl away with disappointment, and the thought of eating chicken noodle soup made him feel just as sick, “I’m not hungry.”

Lilith frowned, head titling in concern and Red hated immediately, “You need to eat something Red.”

“I said I’m fine.” He sneered, and he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted these mages to stop being so fake and pretending to be so nice.

“I can make you something else?” Lilith offered softly, and by now Edge and Sans are watching them. Edge looking like he wants to step in and tell Red to stop being a dick, and Sans is watching him carefully. As if that soft fuck could stop him from anything.

“I said I’m fucking not hungry.” Red snapped back, making Edge cringe and Lilith stiffen.

Her eyes narrowed, and yeah, that’s what Red was expecting, “Okay.” Her voice is slow and cold, “You don’t need to be a dick about it, but you need to eat something if you want to get better.”

“I’m fine.” Red sneered again, shoving the bowl of soup away from himself harder then he meant to.

He really _hadn’t_ meant to shove the bowl so hard off his lap, he really _hadn’t_ meant to shove it off the bed in a temper tantrum that sent it falling to the floor with a clatter. He was just so fucking tired, and sick and sick of being tired, and he was sick of being tense and afraid all the time.

Something had torn them apart, had torn him apart when he tried to stop it from hurting Gore, leaving him for dead and now laid up under the careful hands of humans.

He hadn’t meant for the soup bowl to hit the floor hard enough that it acted as a sling shot and fired the cooling soup straight up into Lilith’s face. It splattered orangish red soup up her chest and directly into her face, the creamy soup sticking to her hair and skin easily. Red stiffened, knew that was a thousand to one shot, and he’d never be able to do it again if he tried.

The room around them fell silent as Lilith flinched back as soup splattered across her face and throat, and around them mouths fell open in shock. Red tensed, shoulders hunching as he glared and braced for a strike as Lilith lifted both her hand up as if to ask _what the actual fuck._

She blinks at him in silence, as if she can’t believe this has just happened to her and all Red can do is silently blink back, because really, same. Around them, his crew is tense and frozen in shocked stillness, waiting for the mage to make the first move, and behind him, Red can feel Edge preparing to put himself between Lilith and Red.

Something similar to guilt crushes Red’s soul, he knows that Edge had taken a beating from this particular mage before they had set aside their differences. When Lilith thought that Edge had sought them out to hurt her family.

He’s willing to take another beating, if it means keeping Red safe when he’s sick and hurting.

The sound of a high-pitched squeal was sharp in the too silent room, and slowly Lilith turned to her brother. Felix has gone impossibly red, both hands slapped over his mouth as he _shakes_ with silent laughter from between Wine and Coffee.

Lilith slowly deflates, eyes narrowed on her brother when he’s finally able to take his hands away from his mouth, tears of laughter streaming helplessly down his face and he’s able to rasp, “I can’t believe that just fucking happened!” its voice is strangely strangled and high pitched as he tries to speak around his endless giggles.

Slowly around them smiles begin to creep over everyone else’s face, Lilith’s included, the occasional chuckle ringing around the room as the tension slowly dies.

From behind him, Red can hear Sans chuckle, “Hey, Evil Mage, _soup’s up._ ”

Felix laughs harder, his face ducking into his hands as he again drowns in cackles and giggles.

Lilith sighs, “I didn’t know I needed a facial, but here we are.”

Red is certain that Felix is going to bust an internal organ with how hard he’s laughing, and quietly he shrinks in on himself, waiting for the joke to inevitably turn on him. He’s Fell, the butt of every joke or had been before he carved a bloody path from New Home to Snowdin when he became the Judge.

“Bon appe-soup.” Gore adds cheerfully, Felix laughs harder into his hands, making Wine smile at him even as Felix’s hands pat around the cot, grabbing helplessly onto the end of Wine’s scarf to bury his face into the crimson fabric to muffle his laughter.

Lilith sighed again, her narrowed eyes softening into amusement, “Okay, have at it.”

“Lili, I am _soup-er_ excited you invited us for lunch.” Dominic adds brightly, “Its been soup-risingly refreshing.” 

“Tomato-us about it.” Bula is quick to chime in.

“I thought we were having lunch.” Crow’s voice rasps from beside Gore, “Not soup-er.”

“Its been a soup herb lunch.” Glass chimes in, smiling for the first time that Lilith can ever remember seeing it on his face.

“You’re looking a little red there Lilith.” Sin adds brightly, that makes Sloan giggle.

“You might need less time in the garden.” She adds with a grin, that makes Sin smile and Nightmare snerk.

Smiling now, Lilith nods along with it all, taking it in stride, “Well, now that you’ve had your soup-er fun, I’m going to shower.”

Felix is still laughing, nodding into Wine’s scarf as he tries to catch his breath despite the silent laugher that has struck him.

Gore sits up straight, face suddenly going serious as Lilith makes for the door, “Wait! Lilith wait!”

The mage pauses, looking back to him in confusion, “Yeah?”

Gore motions for her to come over to him with quick waves of his hand, “Come ‘ere. I need to tall ya something.”

Still covered in soup, Lilith sigh, “Sure.” She says slowly, crossing the room, “S’not like this could get any weirder.”

She stops, still standing by his cot, and Gore’s eye is soft and round, at ease around the mage. Red leans forward a little, wondering what the fuck he’s doing and why’s he so chill around the human as he waves Lilith down.

Gore is grinning up at her, smile wide and one eye light a soft happy blob, “Come closer.” He practically whispers to her, his voice so soft.

Lilith stares down at him and Red is certain she isn’t going to do it. Then, to his surprise, she sighs and drops to a knee so she is eye level with Gore.

“What is it Gore?” She asks as if this is a completely normal thing, that it’s even _safe_ to be that close to Gore and she isn’t covered in soup.

Gore reaches for her and around the room they all tense as he draws Lilith’s face a little closer, his long, scared fingers grasp at her cheeks to hold her still. Lilith goes still and tense, as Gore’s eye light suddenly sharpens into a long slit, “Lilith, you can’t waste food.” His voice is rough and gravelly, and Red tenses thinking Gore’s going to bite.

Yet, Lilith is painful still, muscles all tensing as if she’s waiting for it too, before Gore’s long, malleable tongue stretched out to lick a strip clean from chin to hair line. Lilith froze, face contorting into utter disgust as her left eye was stuck shut from magic and the equivalent of saliva and Gore leaned in to do it again, leaving a long, wet clean strip up her face.

Around the room everyone watches on horrified, Sugar gasping out _brother_ at Gore’s actions, but no one moves to stop him. Felix is the first to crack, again, howling with laughter that is poorly muffled in Wine’s scarf and he’s quickly followed by Sans.

Red turns to watch him laugh in a mixture of horrified shock. That’s _Sans’s_ girl that’s getting fucking bathed by Gore, but here he is laughing into thin skeletal hands so hard his body trembles and blue magic streams down from his sockets.

When he’s done, Gore releases Lilith happily, licking his teeth clean of the left-over soup, looking pleased and satisfied as he tucks into his own bowl of soup, “Thank you Lilith.”

If Morel looks horrified at what’s just happened, Lilith looks a little shell shocked, like she’s not quite sure what’s just happened, “No. No problem Gore.” She doesn’t move from where she’s knelt, “Can I shower now?”

Gore’s eye light returned to its soft blob and he grins at her as it flicks down to her throat, “Yes.” He tells her slowly, once again speaking with slow, thoughtful words as he focuses hard, “Nightmare says I shouldn’t…lick people without their consent. Especially their throats.”

Lilith slowly nods, the shock fading as she pushes herself to her feet, “Sage advice.” She glances with a bemused smile to Nightmare, whose dropped his face into his hand with a sigh, “I’m going to get cleaned up now. Maybe after lunch we can watch a movie downstairs.”

“Or play Mario Party!” Mercy is quick to ask, voice excited.

Lilith’ head tilts, and Red think she might say no when Gore’s pleased voice adds in, “We like…to watch you play.” His brow furrows as he thinks hard, getting his thoughts in order, “You’re funny. We like to see Edge. Edge get his ass kicked.”

Edge sighs behind Red, but it sounds different from his usual deep, put upon sighs that Red’s used to hearing. This almost sounds affectionate, like a grin hidden beneath that huff. Lilith relents, nodding, “Alright, we’ll play one round of Mario Party before we watch a movie.” There’s an excited rambling from the cot the girls are playing their board game on where Felix is still silently dying of laughter that are hidden only by Wine’s scarf, “After we clean up from lunch.” She’s quick to add.

With that, Lilith slips from the room, off to wash the soup from her hair and face, and Red refuses to face his brother or Nightmare. He can feel both of their glares on the back of his neck and against his face, and he refuses to acknowledge either of them.

Instead he quietly lays down, firmly ignoring that his foolish actions could have jeopardized their place here, and risk everything they were trying to do. Red tries to drown out his own self hatred, and his growing hunger. His soul suddenly cramps, but he refuses to ask Sans to bring him something back up when he manages to stop laughing long enough to do a lunch run for Edge.

-

Lilith doesn’t come back into the infirmary until long after Dominic and his Den had left, and the mages had trooped them all downstairs for games and movies. Red frankly didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with them anymore and had pretended to be asleep when it was time to head down.

His brother, the only one not being an idiot, had sighed at him but left him alone to wallow in his own self pity. Some fucking guard he was, banged up and weak, couldn’t even take care of any of them and made himself look like an idiot by getting emotional over some fucking soup.

He deserves to be alone in the infirmary alone with Rips and the sound of machinery that monitored his damaged soul. The door to the infirmary squeaks open, making Red cringe in on himself, telling himself again that he wants to be left alone and self pity really isn’t his style.

His soul throbs again, whether from hunger, hurt or physical pain, even Red isn’t completely sure, but he knows it’s Lilith coming to his cot by the sound of her gait. He hears the stool next to his cot being pulled back and it squeak as she sits down in it, her voice soft despite her words, “Red, I know your awake.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t need to see her anger and irritation shot at him thanks, he’s got his own self hatred to wallow in, he doesn’t need hers. She gives him a little sigh, but doesn’t relent, “You need to eat.”

That almost makes Red snarl, want to tell her to fuck off but he’s really just fucking tired. He wants to be left alone _~~but not really,~~_ to get his head on straight and gather intel. If they’re stuck here, he needs to know everything about everyone, and find every possible vantage point to make these mages suffer when they turn on them.

“I brought a peace offering.” Red almost snorts, but he keeps quiet so Lilith keeps talking, “Your brother told me that your favorite food is, and I quote,” and this should be good, “’Artery clogging grease balls with what is supposed to be cheese, dripping in mustard, that Grillby calls cheese burgers.’” Red almost snots again, can practically hear Edge’s gravelly voice growing out those words, “Sans was nearly offended, then hungry.” She pauses as if in thought, and Red can practically see her smiling over the thought of her soft boyfriend, “Anyways. I brought a peace offering. Lola says that cheeseburgers are still going to be too heavy for your stomach, but I brought you a ham sandwich with cheese and mustard. Edge thought it was a fair compromise.” 

Red opens a socket up a slit at the description, and it’s not soup and doesn’t make his stomach twist with sick. He’s expecting pity on her face, or concern, but Lilith’s expression is her typical cold neutral, and in her hand is a plate with said sandwich.

Red sighs, feels like shit as he pushes himself up and doesn’t say anything as he takes the plate. Lilith hands it over with the same neutral expression, not even seeming pleased when he takes a bite. He swallows quickly, his body smoothly turning the food into magic and even after a single bite it sooths his soul.

“Why’r you being nice to me?” the words are passed his teeth before he can even processes the question.

Lilith finally looks at him, dark, cold eyes looking around his face, taking in the light, barely noticeable scars, razor teeth and the gold tooth before shrugging, “Why not? What do I get out of it by being a dick?”

Red blinks at her, and yeah, that’s fair. He guesses, but he still frowns at her, “I dunno. Enjoyment.”

Disgusts crosses her face and, well, well, well, isn’t that interesting. Seems the battle mage doesn’t like hurting people for the sake of it, “There’s nothing to enjoy in hurting people.”

“And yet you broke my brother.” He’s quick to snap back.

The cold comes back to her expression, intriguing Red all the more, “Just because I can, doesn’t mean I like to.”

Red glowers at her, taking another bite of his sandwich, talking around the food in his mouth and taking advantage that Edge isn’t there to scold him for it, “What do you want?”

Lilith sighs, expression unchanging, weird little thing that she was, “To see if your okay.”

He doesn’t know what she’s getting at. If it’s the food, or the strong reaction that he and Edge both had around soup, this one’s sharp and she clearly saw something she shouldn’t have but she’s leaving it up to Red to talk about. Well, he’s not talking about it with her, “I’m fine.”

Lilith nods, lets it go but he can see something pass through her eyes, there and gone too quick for Red to catch, “Alright. Would you like something else?” he shakes his head no, and the mage gives him an awkward nod, “Alright then.”

She moves to stand, and the sandwich is almost done, settling his soul and his magic, and only now does he realize how terrible he’s been feeling when he’s finally feeling a little better.

“Sorry.” The word blurts out before he can pull it back, and it makes Lilith pause, that cold expression, that icy face that Gore licked clean and is now framed by damp hair, pulls into surprise. Red looks down, hands tightening around the bread with enough pressure to make it crumple a little, “For. Um.” He’s shit at this, it’s not like he’s ever really had to apologise to anyone for anything before. Except maybe the kid.

“For throwing soup at me?” she asks lightly, maybe a little too lightly if possible.

Red’s head snaps up, his mouth pulled into a snarl, “I didn’t throw….” His words die out when he sees her amused look, the crooked grin that fills him with something soft. It’s not a cruel grin, not the kind that the people of New Home would give him, but something playful and soft and something that was never directed at _Red_.

“It’s fine Red.” She tells him when his voice gives out, “It was an accident.” Her grin widens a little, and it’s maybe not so terrible, “One that will go down in my Den’s history in infamy.” Her grin gets a little sharper, “You should be proud. Not a lot of people manage to land a hit on me.”

Red snorts, “That’s the key. Wait until your not expecting it and make it look like an accident.”

It makes her grin widen, “That’s how I would do it.”

A little of the tension eases from Red’s soul, thought he can’t say why, nor why he’s not so tense in Lilith’s presence. Even at the awkward, stale silence between them before she asks, “Red, do you want to come downstairs?”

He looks up at her, sockets narrowing as if waiting for a punch line that never comes, “Sure. Why not.” He echoes her words back to her and isn’t sure he can actually stand to walk downstairs to where the others are playing their game.

Red pauses for a moment to take stock of his injuries and depleted magic before his quite voice carries, “I don’t think I can walk that far.”

Lilith blinks at him, and he braces for pity that never comes, her voice is slow when she gives him an offer, “I can carry you. To the dining room. Wouldn’t be as a long a walk then.”

Giving her a shrewd look, Red tenses again, waiting for a punchline or joke at his expense. It never came, and Red was left with a choice. Accept the help that was being offered and taking this kindness at face value or reject it with such viciousness that the mage wouldn’t try again.

Something settles over him, and even Red has no idea why he agrees to it, “Fuck it. Just don’t drop me.” And he hates that _he’s_ pleased that Lilith is pleased.

He’s tense when Lilith’s arms reach under his knees and around his shoulders as she eases him into her arms, careful to balance him and the light pole that holds up a bag of magic that is slowly being fed into his still summoned soul.

It’s a weird experience, and Red isn’t sure what to do with himself being tucked into a muscular human’s arms and carried as if he meant a damn to her, and he’s tense and still during the whole thing. She’s warm as magic radiates through her skin, soothing against Red’s sore, cold bones, and he fights with himself not to relax.

He can’t trust these humans, he can’t. Someone needs to be vigilant and keep the Crew safe, and if Glass is being bought over then it needs to be him.

Yet, Lilith keeps her word, another abnormality that he isn’t used to, and sets him on his feet just outside the living room where the others are laughing. She stays near by, just in case he takes a tumble, ready to steady him should he need it.

It’s embarrassing that he’s panting by the short walk from the doorway, through the door and too the couch. He moves slowly to the couch where Edge and Sans are curled up next to each other, each with a controller in their hands, Sans looking far too smug for his own good.

Mercy looks up as Red limps into the room, Lilith at his heels, her serious competitor face breaking into a grin when she sees him and abandons her game and controller to rush Red. Her voice was soft and happy, and Red softens when he sees how excited she is to see him, “Red! You came down!”

She throws her arms around his middle, hugging him as tight as her small body can, nearly vibrating with excitement. Red goes still, still not used to a gentle touch, even from his kid, before he slowly relaxes and ruffles her hair, “Yeah, well. Couldn’t let Winey show me up by coming down while he leeches magic, now could I?”

Mercy laughs and hugs him again, and Red looks up to where Wine is stretched out on the other couch, his thin legs propped up on pillows and in Felix’s lap. He doesn’t look up from his book, simply lifts his hand to flip Red off, the priss that he is.

Red gives Mercy a little hug, telling her, “You’re losing kid, go kick their asses.”

Mercy gives a loud laugh and a nod, rushing off to rejoin Hope in their game, so that Red could flop tired and boneless in the space between Sans and Edge. He lets Lilith fuss with the placement of his IV line, before she folds down next to Sans, taking back the controller back from him.

Red slowly relaxes into Edge’s side, sockets itching at the sudden tiredness that creeps up on him and his body slowly loosens.

He tilts his head when he hears Lilith’s voice ask, “How am I doing?” and Red is surprised that Sans hands the controller over to Lilith with a grin.

“I kept your lead.” Sans sounds smug, and it makes Felix choke on air.

“He fucking took two more stars!” Felix sound thoroughly scandalized, drawing a bright smile from Sans.

He leaned over to Red, eye lights still on Felix as he mock whispers, “The trick is making Felix think your terrible at things, then swoop him out of two whole stars.”

Red has no idea what the fuck Sans is talking about, but his grin is slick and amused at Felix’s outraged squawk. He shoots Red a quick wink before he settles back against Lilith’s side, all pliant and warm, and stupidly in love with the mage. Red gives him a look, face scrunched like he bit into a lemon as confusion rolls through him.

Weird fucking group, the whole lot of them.

Yet, Red settles against Edge a little more, watching as Lilith swooped a third star right out from under her brother’s nose with a delighted cackle from her and Sans. He’s warm and he’s comfortable, and Red can’t pinpoint the moment he falls asleep.

He jerks wake when someone laughs, and someone else shushes the laughter but the muffled giggles don’t stop.

Red isn’t sure how he ended up where he was, or when they stopped playing their game to watch a movie, but somehow Red has ended up with his head nestled into Lilith’s lap with his feet stretched out into Edge’s lap.

Sans is stretched out next to him, and he’s pressed himself in against Sans’s front, his skull tucked under his chin as Sans snores softly over his head. Sans’s arm is draped around his shoulders, fingers carefully tangled with his IV line as to not disturb it as he holds Red like he gives half a damn.

Lilith has pulled the recliner out of the couch as she stretched out so that both Red and Sans could use her lap as a pillow, her fingertips tracing the coronal suture of Sans’s skull carefully, and Red is sure that no one has ever touched him that gentle before.

At his feet, Edge has pulled up the second recliner, curling loosely into the couch and soundly asleep, his large claws circling one of Red’s ankles, like he’s afraid that Red’ll disappear. It’s a sweat gesture, really, and Red allows it since he’s supposed to be asleep. He pauses, frowns when he looks at Edge’s lax face, soft and young in sleep, looking like Papyrus and it makes guilt crush at Red’s soul.

He didn’t fucking protect his brother, he didn’t fucking protect his kid, and he sure as fuck didn’t protect his Crew. He was a fuck up, that’s what he was. 

He moves slow, as to not alert Lilith to the fact he is awake and takes a quick stock of his Crew, just peeking over Sans’s shoulder. He doesn’t know what movie they’ve put on, but Hope and Mercy seem to be enjoying it, and that’s enough for Red.

Wine has fallen asleep as well, makes sense, the two of them are still pretty banged up and need the extra sleep. What makes Red’s brow raise is that Wine has shifted so that _his_ head is in Felix’s lap and hips in Coffee’s, curled between the two of them while Coffee leans into Felix as well.

The mage is stock still, like he’s afraid to wake up either of them if he so much as breaths, his face bright crimson that Red is surprised isn’t lighting up the whole fucking room.

On the love seat, Sin and Sloan are side by side with a bowl of popcorn as they watch the movie, Nightmare is leaning against Sloan’s legs, tendrils reaching to steal popcorn from their shared bowl.

The big mage, Ryder, is between Sugar and his mate on the floor, sharing popcorn while Papyrus curls into Ryder’s side. Next to Sugar, Gore and Crow have passed out, both snoring softly next to Lola, curled into a tight ball into each other like puppies do. Next to her, Glass is using her as a pillow, sockets half lidded as he slowly slips into sleep.

Red doesn’t get it. Not. At. All.

He doesn’t understand why his crew, why _he_ , is soothed by these humans, these mages. So much so that his entire Crew, the scourges of the multiverse, cruel mother fuckers that they were, who made fucking Ink hesitate to tangle with them, roll over onto their bellies so easily.

He doesn’t understand why they’re so relaxed here, why they’re so fucking happy here. Even Glass is stretched out and quite against the healer.

Red doesn’t get it, not even a little bit. Doesn’t understand this kindness, its not something seen in many places in the multiverse.

But, if there’s one thing Red learned early in life, it’s not to look a Gyftrot in the mouth. He settles back against Lilith slowly, curling into Sans to nap, and doesn’t think any more of it.


	12. Three O'Clock in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix is doing his nightly patrol and finds Wine still awake when he should be asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> What is this, another update so soon? Well friends, I've had a shitty couple of days at work and used that anger to write the ouchy chapters that are coming up and now I need an emotionally break before I start writing the conclusion of that saga. 
> 
> So, I edited one of the fluffier chapters tonight, and thought it might be nice to update an extra chapter. 
> 
> There should still be another update this Friday or Saturday as usual, and that might be a double update as well. Chapters 13 and 14 where supposed to be a single chapter, but it fit better for the narrative to split it. We'll see if I'm able to edit both on Friday. 
> 
> In the mean time, enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: discussion of previous/past torture, trying to break someone.

Strolling through the dark and quiet compound, Felix stuffs his hands into the pockets of his loose sweatpants and feels his soul settle with sheer happiness. He _liked_ having the Doom and Gloom Crew here, despite his initial misgivings and uncertainty.

Anger too, Felix was adult enough to admit that he’d been angry, irrationally so when they’d been dropped into their lap. Afraid, not of them, but for Lilith and Sans, that fear had clouded his judgment and turning to resentment. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken him long to get over himself, and a big part of that was because of Coffee and Hope, they had been quick to douse the flames in his soul. Wine only helped to sooth that anger, endearing them to Felix all the more. 

They, the entire Crew, brought life into their quite compound, attitude and personality that Felix _knew_ he wasn’t the only one who had quickly grown to adore. Sure, the first few days were a little rough, most of the Crew, and well frankly, he, were a little surly with each other but they had gotten through it and over it.

After all, hadn’t Sans stabbed Lilith accidently when she woke him from a nightmare, and they’d gotten past _that_. Surely, the rest of them, _he,_ could get over a little bit of attempted kidnapping. 

A lot had happened in the short week and a half since Nightmare’s stupid plan to kidnap Lilith and use her as leverage to force them to heal their injured party. It felt a lot longer then a week, too much packed into only a hand full of days that left them all exshausted. It felt like several weeks with everything that had happened in such a short amount of time, and the things that they had discovered about the Doom and Gloom Crew.

Felix still rolls Wine’s words through his head as he scratches at the line of his mohawk, fingers scratching at his buzzed sculp with a frown. He hates that _Empress_ Toriel had tortured him, touched him at all and the thought makes him see red. Makes him think how much fun it would be to take those fucking hands off at the wrists for her transgression, for even daring to lay hands on Wine or Coffee.

Felix hates that Red and Edge panicked at fucking soup the other day, _hates_ that Crow endured five hundred and thirty-six runs with a genocidal child and hates how Sin has nightmares that makes him cry out in his sleep. He hates whatever the _fuck_ had been done to Gore and Sugar, and hates the fact he’s expecting some bullshit horror story for Glass to surface any day now.

Felix hates that no one was there for them. For any of them. 

He hates that his Den mates landed here hurting and raw, broken long before they turned up in their universe. He hates they’ve been labelled the _bad guys_ , when in reality they are just as much a part of the multiverse ecosystem as Dream and Ink. He wonders how many others have died since their disappearance, or if Dream has even made the connection yet. 

He hates that Nightmare’s been ostracised to the fringes of the multiverse with the family he built for himself, because his brother couldn’t see the reasons for his actions. Nightmare isn’t a hero, far from it and Felix won’t insult him by making excuses for him, but how many universes lived and thrived because he destroyed a failing universe and took what he needed from it?

Frowning, Felix sighs, shoulders slumped as he makes his rounds, slipping on silent feet from the front hall near the front door, and heading into one of the living rooms on the main floor. It’s the one they don’t tend to use to play games with the Crew, but the one they barricade themselves in when the Fog liked to make its appearance.

The protective charms and spells are heavy around the room, and that helps settle Felix a little more to feel them and pull him from his darker thoughts. Settling with a sigh, Felix is unhurried as he strolls towards the dark room, the only one awake as he makes his nightly rounds silently, thinking back to his new Den mates.

He grins fondly when he thinks of Wine and Coffee again, the brothers as different as Sans and Papyrus, and Felix feels his soul warm. He doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to them, what it is about them that makes Felix smile, and maybe it’s Coffee’s own shy, hesitant grin. Or maybe its Wine’s bolder smirk that makes him look like he’s judging you all the time, and Felix like to see him soften when they spoke.

Felix grins to himself again when he thinks of them, thinks how he had helped them move into their new rooms earlier that day; like Sans had predicted they had opened up the west wing once members of the Crew was stable enough to start being moved out of the infirmary. The west wing made the most sense since it was still nice and close to where the mage’s slept, but gave the Crew the space they all seemed to desperate to have.

Nightmare at least seemed happier to have his own space again, choosing one of the empty rooms without any complaint but Sugar and Gore refused to be separated. Which was fine in Felix’s humble opinion, and if Crow tagged along and slept in Gore’s bed, what did Felix care?

He smirked to himself, mused not for the first time if there was something going on between Gore and Crow, and Felix hoped there was. They deserved to be happy, and they deserved a safe place to express that happiness, and Felix would be delighted to safeguard that for them. 

His mouth twists into a mockery of a smile. If he’s honest with himself, Felix knows that if anyone tried to hurt Crow, Gore or Sugar, it would be Lola they’d have to contend with. Sure, his sister may seem like an easy target being the kindness soul in their Den, but for proof of her capabilities, no one had to look any further then Jerry’s wrist, the fucker.

It had served her well, that little reminder to the Covens, that Lola was still a member of the Pandora Den. 

Pushing away the thoughts of Lola and Jerry, and things in the past, Felix allows his mind to come back around to Wine and Coffee. They had chosen their own rooms as well, side by side to be near each other, but still had their own space, which hey, Felix got that too. His mind lingered again on the brothers, grinning a little more to himself as the demon inside purred in his soul.

He bit his lower lip when he thought of that disastrous kiss and Felix briefly dares to wonder if he could show Wine how _he_ could kiss, the tips of his fingers brushing at his lower lip. The thought is shoved mercilessly away, it’s inappropriate and wrong of him to think that and he ruthlessly drops his hand, shoving it back into his pocket. Wine’s hurt, and he was raw and scared when he kissed Felix, desperate to keep his brother safe, that was all. Nothing that Felix wouldn’t have done if their roles were reversed. 

Felix wasn’t going to take advantage of that desperation; he wasn’t like that and he sure as shit wasn’t going to prove correct the Doom and Gloom Crew’s fears of them. He wanted Wine and Coffee to _like_ him if he had any hopes of them staying, or at least coming back.

They could come back, right? There was no rule against them coming back, or better yet, just staying. It’s not like the multiverse gave a shit about them, they were better off here anyways and Felix tries not to be bitter about it.

Crossing the thresh hold and into the living room to do his rounds, Felix pauses, grin dropping when he sees the top of a smooth, white skull just peeking over the back of the couch. Checking his watch, the time blinks back up at him at three oh two in the morning, and he wonders what the hell one of them are even doing up?

Biting at his inner cheek, he crosses the room in silence, his bare feet against the carpeted floor as he comes around the couch to find Wine staring blankly at the empty television, looking tired and sad, and Hope snoring softly in the love seat next to the couch.

Concern starts to slowly bubble up in Felix’s soul, agitation shifting uncomfortably under his skin as he glanced from the skeleton to the tiny human before his soft voice calls out Wine’s name, “Wine?” the exhausted face tips up to him, dark purple and black smearing under Wine’s sockets in deep, dark bags, “What are you doing up buddy?”

Wine blinks at him slowly, as if he’s having a hard time understanding Felix’s words, and worry suddenly sparks in his soul a little harder, “Oh. My apologises Felix, I couldn’t sleep.”

Wearily, he turns back to stare blankly at the television, and alarm bells start to ring in Felix’s head. He climbs over the back of the couch rather then going all the way around it like an adult, folding down next to Wine so that he’s a warm line against his cool bones.

Frowning, Felix suddenly takes note that Wine’s always cold, his bones always feel like they’ve been in a freezer, and quietly pulls one of the blankets from the back of the couch to wrap around his shoulders. Wine doesn’t seem to notice or make mention of the blanket, but quietly settles into it, his voice raspy when he asks, “What are you doing up?”

Felix shrugs, shifting a little closer, hoping he would warm Wine up a little bit, “Rounds.” That draws Wine’s confused expression back up to him and Felix gives him a grin, “Most of us have a deep well of magic and don’t need much sleep, Lola’s the exception to the rule. A few hours at most and we’re good for the day, and we have an instinct to protect the Den, or at least Lilith and I do. We take turns patrolling the compound each hour to make sure nothings tried to break in.” he gives Wine a little shrug, “It helps settle our instinct, so we get a better sleep.”

Right now, Felix’s instincts are screaming at him to care for his hurting Den mate, to tuck Wine into the centre of the pile and protect him with the vicious intent and ferocity befitting a battle mage. Make him feel safe and protected so he could sleep.

“Oh.” Wine’s sockets drop, and he crumples a little into himself, saying nothing else of the matter, staring quietly at the empty TV screen.

Felix frowns, hands itching to hold him, to fold himself around Wine like a comfy, personal space heater but Felix keeps them firmly folded in his lap. He needs to approach with caution, he doesn’t want to scare Wine off or cause any trauma, and knows he should come at this problem sideways, “What’s Hope doing down here?”

Wine’s weak, ruddy eye light blinks out when he isn’t able to keep it lit up anymore, and his head bobs weakly on his spine, “She had a nightmare.” He admits quietly, “She’s terrified that whatever got us in Nightmare’s world is going to get us here. She’s afraid we’re going to die and leave her all alone.” 

Felix frowns as Wine’s head shakes weakly, “I don’t blame her for feeling like this. Ripper hasn’t woken up yet, Red’s having emotional outbursts, Coffee was nearly hit by a car, Glass hasn’t smiled at her since this all happened. She’s terrified and traumatized and I can’t help her.” He blinks slowly, rubbing between his sockets with a wince and Felix finds it ironic that he makes mention of Hope’s trauma while conveniently ignoring his own. Felix has the common fucking sense to know it’s not the time to make mention of it, “I can’t get to sleep, and when I do, I’m having nightmares.” 

Felix squirms with uncertainty, his heart feels like it’s being crushed in his chest and doesn’t know what to do to comfort him. Had this been any of the mages or monsters who lived here, he would know, but Wine is a mystery to him. He doesn’t know what Wine needs to sooth him or what will upset him further, and Felix doesn’t like that he doesn’t know what to do to make him feel better.

His own instincts are utterly useless, only screaming mindlessly at him to make it better, to do something but not how as Wine hunches into himself, looking pained and miserable. He doesn’t like it, Felix decides, he doesn’t like to see Wine look so miserable and hurt, and truthfully, sad.

Shifting again, Felix tries something new, a tactic he isn’t great at, and uses his words, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Wine is slow to look up at him, tired and uncertain as he frowns, sharp teeth pulling downward and the scar over his socket pulls painfully, “About my nightmares?”

Felix shrugs, picking at his thumb nail, “If you want to. I mean, they’re bothering you, you might feel better getting it off your chest.” His voice is quiet, like he’s afraid if he speaks too loud, Wine will bolt. 

Wine hesitates, and Felix can’t tell where exactly he’s looking with those dark, empty sockets of his. It’s different from when Sans snuffs his eye lights and starts at you with that thousand-yard stare and those deep, dark voids set back in his skull that stare into your soul. Wine lacks the power of the Judge, Felix realizes with a startle, and the darkness of his sockets seem lighter. Softer somehow, tired.

“It’s…” his gaze drops, and Felix sees the soft blob of fuzzy light fight its way to be lit up again, soft and hazy, “nothing.” He says slowly.

Felix frowns, feels his heart drop at those small, sad words, and he tires to be encouraging, “It’s not nothing. It’s upsetting you.” He hopes he’s being encouraging, not pressuring, and he keeps his hands clasped tightly in his lap, so he doesn’t accidently reach for Wine. 

Wine hesitates, pulls his scarf up over his throat a little higher as if he’s hiding, and he doesn’t look at Felix, “Do you really want to hear about this?”

Felix nods, voice small, “Yeah.” And he does, if it’s upsetting Wine so much that it’s making him this upset, then yeah, Felix wants to know too. Den mates take care of each other, protect each other, especially when they’ve been kicked down. Fate knows that there were many a night, especially after the end of the war, that had the mages huddled together and tried to understand what the hell had happened to them. The trauma they suffered, the trauma they shared and spoke openly about the secrets they told each other now that they had the time to process it.

He can do that for Wine.

Wine hesitates only a moment longer before his tired words start to spill from sharp teeth, “Empress Toriel tortured us.” He told Felix softly, so plainly it hurts to hear and the mage held himself impossibly still, refusing to react to Wine’s small words, “For every transgression that she saw, real or imagined, she would take her pound of flesh.”

His laugh is bitter when he lifts his arm so that he and Felix can look at the thick, even scars that carefully ringed his arm, and Wine gently brushes at one of those scars with his thumb.

Its only then that Felix quietly notices how it’s only one of Wine’s arms that was scared, “She was always much harder on Coffee.” He admits quietly, dim eye light focusing on the scaring on his bones, “Her _Judge_.” He sneers the word, and Felix has never heard such contempt from him before, “A shame that we didn’t have her pound of flesh for her to take. So, she burned her disappointment it into our bones so we would remember never to cross her. To never fail her.”

Felix swallows lightly, licking his teeth when he looks down at Wine’s scared arm, brow furrowed as he starts to see a pattern in those marks, “Are those fingerprints?” he asked quietly.

Wine chuckled darkly, his own fingers wrapping around the thin bones of his forearm, and now Felix can really see the scars, the old burns for what they are. Fingerprints, a handprint wrapped around Wine’s arm where someone had grabbed him with fire in their hand, “Empress Toriel is an expert when it comes to fire magic.” His voice is so small, “Her control is second to none.” Wine’s mouth pulls into a bitter smile, “As is her healing magic. She’ll hurt you, then heal you before you crumble to dust.” 

Felix feels bile rise in the back of his throat, fury bubbling with it, and he quickly takes iron clad control of his emotions, smothers them before he says something that’ll only add to the upset. He doesn’t want Wine to think he’s angry with him. He doesn’t want Wine to clam up if Felix fucked this up.

“She learned very quickly that pain didn’t work well on me.” Wine’s voice suddenly goes soft and distant, and concern bubbles a little hotter in Felix’s soul, “I could ignore it, compartmentalize it easily. The anticipation was always worse. I could,” he laughs a little bitterly, and Felix doesn’t like it, “rationalize it. Just, turn off when she got off on hurting me, go onto autopilot when she summoned me to the throne room. She figured that out when she tried to break my neck.”

Felix paused, words aghast, angry, and he can’t help it, “What?”

Wine nodded, suddenly looking exhausted, he leaned against Felix’s side, “Yes.” He sounded a little out of it, almost dazed, like he was talking about the treatment of someone else, and Felix recognizes a mental defense mechanism against deep seeded hurt when he sees it, “She’d been trying for hours to make me scream. She grabbed my spine with fire magic, broke my jaw, nothing. I had retreated too far into myself and hadn’t realized what was happening. She grabbed me by the throat, scorched the bone and snapped two of my transverse process.”

Felix remains still and silent at Wine’s side, a comforting line of heat as his eyes flashed gold and black before he quickly settled his magic and buries his vice. He does the only thing he can, the only comfort he can offer, slipping a heavy arm around Wine’s tense shoulders, drawing him tighter against his side in a sideways hold.

Wine goes willingly, almost subdued and Felix doesn’t like it. He hasn’t known Wine long, but he had seen glimpses of that delightful wit and sarcasm when they’re playing Mario Party with the girls. That utter delight when he actually takes a star, the way he brightens up when he starts to get a hold of the game, the genuine smile when Wine starts to win.

The way he goes adorably red when Felix tells him he’s doing a good job.

He doesn’t like to see this hurting, broken version of Wine. He seems so fragile right now, so easily shattered, chipped away and Felix wonders how the fuck had Lilith dragged Sans through the underground when he had been like this. How had she managed to get him out of there without breaking him, how the fuck had she held him together after his rape? After his fucking torture at the hands of Flowy, Chara and Oliva? Seeing Wine so wounded shoves all of that back at Felix with some crystal-clear clarity he hadn’t had before. Distantly he wonders if he could have even done the same, do what Lilith had done and fuck he’s a dick for getting under her skin when they were arming themselves for her second trip down.

To be fair, Lilith _had_ needed someone to piss her off just enough to make Flowy and Chara suffer for what they did. Lilith couldn’t hesitate, Felix just gave her the little reminder, the incentive, that she was Death, and some cruel child had her skeleton boyfriend.

Looking back now, Felix thinks Lilith went easy on him when she only broke his nose. Felix knows he’s not okay, he’s not normal. He’s cruel and vicious, and he would do anything to protect his Den. He’d do anything to protect Wine and Coffee, he’d easily stand between Wine and Toriel if he needed to.

And if anyone beyond his Den mates had spewed the bullshit at him, he had at Lilith that day, he’s sure it would have ended with a lot more blood being spilt. 

Taking a breath, Felix sloughs off the dark feelings that are beginning to build in his chest and looks down at the top of Wine’s skull. His soul pulses with affection and anger, knowing that he hadn’t been there when Wine needed him the most. Felix’s instinct screams at him to protect Wine now, do _something_ to make it okay, make him feel better.

And shit, Felix never doubted Lilith’s ferocity, but having Wine soft and hurting against him, Felix knows that his sister is tough as nails to get Sans through all that alive.

Wine slowly reaches up to undo his scarf, pulling the soft fabric off his shoulders to fold it neatly to set aside before he leaned his skull against Felix’s side, pressing into him weakly. He’s soft and pliant, tired beyond measure. He allows Felix to see the damage done to his throat, and Felix wonders how the fuck he had missed this the first time, when he had his hands on Wine’s shattered body and Felix had put him back together. He curses his own stupidity; he had been too angry when he had been caring for Wine on that first day and missed the fucking obvious. 

In the shadowy room, where only the light of the moon touches the floor, Felix can see the shadowy handprint around Wine’s throat, the broken bones of his vertebra, snapped and gone, and the hair line crack along Wine’s jaw that Felix almost misses.

Wine makes a noise at the back of his throat, settling more comfortably against Felix, sockets going half lidded and heavy as exhaustion fully washes over him, “Do you want to know why she did it?”

No, Felix doesn’t want to hear any more, he doesn’t want to know why some stupid old goat tortured this monster that he’s growing so fond of, “Yeah. If you want to tell me.”

Felix braces, knowing in his soul that he’ll hold onto Wine and protect him from bad memories if he needs to. Felix will help prop him up, be his shield and sword if he needs to, “She thought I was too kind to Alphys.” He whispered into the darkness around them, and something clenches in Felix’s chest.

“She wanted so badly to be in the guard, worked so hard but never could quite make the cut.” He spoke softly, and it spooks Felix a little, to hear that detached voice, small and blank, “And I tried to help her. I helped her train and tried to get her to where she needed to be. The Empress didn’t like that, she wanted me to be like her. Cold and cruel and stop caring about those around me. She wanted me to turn Snowdin into a military base and crush any rebellion that was growing there.” He sneered bitterly, “Like anyone could do that.”

Wine sighs very softly, “She even attempted to have Coffee Judge me, tried to prove my traitorous ways. I was nothing but loyal, did everything she asked.” Even when it almost destroyed him, when it broke something inside of him, left him bleeding and raw. 

Felix curls his arm around Wine when he feels a shiver run down his spine, a light tremble that went from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes. Wine goes limp against Felix’s side, drawing his thin legs up to curl lightly against the hard, muscular body next to him, and he feels so cold laying against the lightly scared skin.

Felix is like a fireplace, warm and comfortable as he pulls Wine a little tighter against his side, and he goes obediently, but snorts softly, “You shouldn’t be so nice to me Felix. I am not a good person.”

Felix can’t’ help the snort that bubbles up, but if anyone knows what it’s like to be the bad guy, its him, “Don’t give me that.” He sighs, slowly, so very slowly, drawing Wine a littler further into their embrace. 

Wine shakes his head, tries to shake Felix’s arm off like he’s desperate for him to understand that Wine isn’t worth it, “I’m not. I’ve done terrible things Felix.” His voice rasps wit sudden, watery emotion, “I’ve killed in cold blood, I’ve hurt people.” Wine pauses, voice hesitant before he admits, “I’ve tortured in the name of the Kingdom. I was openly feared by all, and only feared the Empress, and for good reason.”

Felix nods, takes it all in and not looking impressed as he gazes softly down at desperate crimson eye lights, “So what?” Felix shrugs, “And I was eight when my soul was bound to a demon and made my first kill.” 

He glances at the wall, takes a deep breath before he tips his head back down to Wine’s holding his gaze. If Wine could spill a few of his secrets, Felix could stand to tell a few, “My kill count was in the hundreds before Lilith even found me. I was a mindless tool that my mothers Den tried to make me into, I was the enemy. I was my own Den’s enemy. They had no reason to take me in beyond a snap of magical synapses and I got lucky.”

Felix gives him a little shrug, Wine’s eye light brightening a little, his skull moving with his shrug, “Eventually, I used everything they taught me to kill them.” Felix pauses, hopes Wine understands, “And _I_ was given a second chance. Me. The killer. The demon. The fucked up one. I became something better then what they wanted me to be. I became the embodiment of War, part of the Pandora Den. I found a family who cared about me. Fate knows that if I was given a second chance, _me_ , you sure as fuck deserve one.” Felix hopes that Wine’s too out of it to read between the lines, hoped he didn’t hear the affection in his voice. Hear just how fond Felix was growing of them. 

“That’s different.” Wine tries, drawing a disbelieving look from Felix, “You were at war.”

“And you think that you weren’t?” Felix shakes his head twisting so that Wine sat in front of him on the couch, looking up at him wearily. Tucking one of his legs under his heavier body, Felix reaches out, hands planting on Wine’s shoulders, desperate to hold him even a little, “Listen, Wine. You’re not a bad person, you did bad things to survive. You did worse things to keep Hope and Coffee safe.”

Wine ducks down, and away, from him but doesn’t move from Felix’s grip, “And, so what?” That draws his sockets back up with a frown, “So what?” he says again, “I did some pretty fucked up shit to keep my family alive. I did worse things to keep them safe.” Wine sees it, just for a moment, something dark and curl lurking just beneath Felix’s pretty face and warm skin. Something dark and evil just beneath the surface, the demon within, string briefly out at him, and Wine shivers when he thinks he sees something _soft_ staring back.

It’s there and gone between one blink and another, and it’s just Felix’s gold eyes staring down at him with a fondness Wine is sure no one has ever looked at him with before. Weird, crooked, pretty battle mage. 

Still, Wine says nothing, quiet and limp, awaiting judgment, but Felix can see him thinking about it. Mulling it over, and good, someone should tell Wine he’s not the bad guy, “Can I give you two suggestions?” Felix’s voice is soft, his hands firm on his shoulders.

Wine shrugs but doesn’t shake off that firm hold, “Of course.”

“We have a great therapist, and you should talk to her.” Felix told him with no uncertain terms, “Like seriously, we all have been seeing her since the end of the war. She’s a mage so she gets it, and we still talk to her.” And truly, his Den wouldn’t have been halfway to normal with out Dr. Tracy’s help.

Wine says nothing, but doesn’t reject it outright, but fuck if he doesn’t look so tired, “And the second?”

This time it’s Felix who goes red, and clears his throat, “Don’t sleep alone.”

Wine’s brow furrows, the first emotion he’s shown all night, “How does that help?” He asks rather then laugh at Felix, and the mage relaxes despite how that sounds.

“Well.” He starts slowly, and he can feel the blush scalding his face and throat, “Lilith found me when we were kids, would’da been about fifteen. I ah, I bonded to the Den quickly, but not my Coven.” Felix shrugs, “Probably because the Coven leaders wanted me dead, so I had a hard time relaxing enough to fall asleep.” 

He gives a little sigh, looking a little shy, and Wine softens at that spark of soft emotion, “It took a really long time for me to trust the Coven enough to sleep. Could only sleep if one of my Den mates were near, and at the beginning I would always sleep next too one of them. And,” Felix feels like his face is scalding, but its too dark for Wine too see it, “I would listen to their heartbeat to fall asleep. It was a reminder that someone was there, and someone cared. That someone was going to fight for me despite the demon attached to my soul.”

He paused, “I knew that I mattered to someone enough that my comfort was important to them. I was important enough that they would let me cuddle up with them, and they’d hold me when I was too anxious too sleep. Because, I _mattered_.”

It was hard to believe that Felix had been the youngest of their Den during the war with how vicious he was, a cruelty only matched by his Den. Yet it was true, before Frisk came along, he was the baby. Three years younger than the others, had been fifteen and on the front when the others had been eighteen.

Once they realized how young he actually was, they had protected him off the battlefield as viciously as they did on the battlefield, and no one dare mess with Felix. Not when Sloan and Lilith would openly break the bones of anyone who dared bully him, fierce, vicious big sisters. Ryder and Lola, they did things a little quieter behind the scenes, but with no less intimidation.

He kept them busy in their down time, the little instigating shit that he was. 

Yet, at night, one of them always let him snuggle in with them, head on their chest and listen to their heartbeat to lull him into sleep. Arms wrapped around him, all snuggly and warm, and sometimes Felix missed being held like that.

But…he could do that for Wine, he could be his someone who cares.

Wine looked up at him with desperate exhaustion in his sockets and a miserable frown, “Could I listen to yours?”

Felix is helpless to say yes, of course they can snuggle. Of course, Felix would let Wine curl up with him to sleep, as if there was a doubt.

Felix is nodding even as he’s drawing Wine towards him, shifting to lay them down. He lightly pulls Wine down to lay pressed between Felix’s long, muscular body and the soft cushion of the couch at Wine’s back.

Wine’s breath’s hitch in his chest, and there’s a spark of fear in his face, there and gone at Felix’s movements. Taking a breath, Felix keeps his motions slow and smooth, calloused hands so careful and soft, pulling Wine, blanket and all, to curl into his chest. He encourages Wine’s skull down, pressed against the dense muscle to listen to the soft _lub dub_ of his heartbeat.

He looks so much smaller, far more delicate then he was, laying weakly against Felix, limp and soft. His cold bones pressed against his heated skin and hard muscles, tucking himself neatly in between the couch and Felix’s side, one thin, scarred arm draping loosely over Felix’s chest.

Old memories wash over him, of times when he had been the tired and sick one, hurting in ways he couldn’t yet describe and one of his sisters or brother would lay their hand over his ear to muffle the outside world a little more. Felix remember the reassurance that brought, the comforting warmth even years and years later, and he lays his hand over Wine’s skull and over his acoustic meatus.

Wine sighs, sockets slipping shut, voice muffled by his dark shirt, claws curling into the soft fabric, “You’re so warm.”

Felix nods, thumb moving softly over the lightly scared bone, “Yeah, deep well of magic. Keeps me running hot.”

He sighs softly, the tension leaking from his bones slowly as Wine melts against his chest, thin legs slotting against one of Felix’s like he was always meant to be there, “Thank you Felix.”

Wine hums, soft and compliant, and Felix let him settle and snuggle, warm and lax before he slowly, very slowly succumbs to his own exhaustion. Felix lays as still as he can, the unmoveable object and the unstoppable force, and whatever Wine needed him to be.

Right now, he’s a heat source and comfort, and that’ll have to be enough. He wraps his other arm around Wine’s thin body, all heavy muscle and messy scars, a creature with which one does not fuck with, and already this tiny, Captain of the Guard has him wrapped around his slim finger.

His hand rubs tiny, firm circles at one of Wine’s shoulder blades, drawing a pleased sigh, and Felix’s voice is soft, “You’re welcome Wine.” And Felix knows he’s fucked when his soul pulses happily with affection for the monster in his arms. 

-

Curling around Sans, Lilith sighs happily, warm and soft in their bed, her longer legs tangled with Sans’s shorter ones, arms wrapped around him tightly. Things had been busy since the Gloom and Doom Crew landed banged up and damaged on their doorstep, running the mages and monsters in their home thin, taking up a lot of time and resources.

Frankly, emotions too, if anyone thought to ask Lilith. She wasn’t stupid, she saw how Felix looked at Coffee and Wine, or Sloan looked at Nightmare and Sin, she probably saw it before they did.

It was the same way she looked at Sans, and it was _hilarious_ to be on this side of the fence for once. 

Yet, neither Sans nor Lilith begrudged any of them for it. Hardly, instead accepted the whole kit ‘n caboodle with open arms and tucked them safely under their wing, and quietly laughed at the rest of the mages. Sure, they had both taken a shine to Edge, and by extension, Red, but sometimes Lilith and Sans just needed some time to themselves.

Wrapping his arms, a little tighter around her ribs, Sans snuggles in with a happy grin, quietly huffing in mate’s scent, determined to bury himself into her side for as long as they had. The Crew took up a lot of their time, time that they needed, but Lilith and Sans needed time too. They needed to be able to hold each other, whisper secrets of love and devotion and away from prying eyes.

It wasn’t even about sex, and Sans grinned at that thought, because, fuck yeah did they have a great sex life, a happy one. A _healthy_ one, _~~probably the healthiest either of them have ever had,~~_ but no. This was about just spending time together.

Snuggling back into him, Lilith sighed softly, lips pressing in a kiss against his skull, muttering, “We should go to the coffee shop tomorrow.” Lips moving against his bones, drawing his face up towards hers.

Sans grinned up at his mate, mouth pressing against hers in a kiss, “Alright.”

Lilith grins against his mouth, soft and pliable when Sans rolls them over so he’s sitting over her ribs, pinning all that magic and strength under his boney legs. It wasn’t like he was a push over, and Sans chuckled to himself when he thought about the Crew, and what they would do when any of them bothered to Check him.

He thought it was _cute_ that they called him Lilith’s soft little boyfriend, and he was going to take so much delight in the moment when they figured out he was the Judge for a reason.

Later, right now he had a mate who needed the smug look on her face kissed away. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth against hers again, his summoned tongue lapping softly at her lower lip coyly and dipping inside to taste Lilith when she parted her lips.

Her hands reached around to cup at his hips, thumbs brushing at his ilium when Lilith sighed into their kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He leaned down as one of her arms glided up his back to curl at his spine, drawing him down flush to her muscular front.

Sans breaks their kiss, lifting up only enough that his teeth brush at her lips teasingly when he mutters, “Can I ask you something?”

Lilith snorts as a leg brushes at his, flexible little thing, “Of course.”

Always one to listen, and Sans pauses before he speaks, weighing carefully his words, hoping he hasn’t misread the situation, “Do you think Edge is hot?”

Lilith blinks at him, and Sans wonders if maybe he had misjudged her reactions before she grins slowly up at him, voice throaty, “Love, you see how he walks in those fuck-me boots?” Sans grins down at her, because yeah, yeah, he did, “The way he fights” because of course a battle mage would notice that, “Of course I noticed he’s fucking hot.”

Sans pauses, pressing downward into Lilith with his hips, hot magic beginning to gather in his pelvis girdle, “You think that’s weird?” he wonders allowed as Lilith leans up, pressing a soft kiss to his throat, drawing a sigh from him.

Lilith hums, “No, why would it be?”

Sans shrugs, “He’s like, my brother, isn’t he?”

Lilith lay back in their bed with a frown, “But he’s not.” She shrugs, “He’s got your bothers face, but he’s from a different universe. There’s nothing connecting him, to you.” She grins up at him, “He’s someone else’s brother.” 

She shrugs again, drawing Sans back down to properly kiss, and Sans swallows back any retort he may have had, pleased that, yeah, okay, his girl has the same taste in men as he does. What that say about either of them, Sans isn’t sure.

“What about Red?” he wonders allowed, since their safe in their room and can tell their secrets.

Lilith grins against his mouth again, “Hottness must run in the family.”

“Or your attracted to edgy-emo boys, and I should question your taste in monsters.” Sans shoots back immediately, playfully teasing.

Lilith laughs, “Yeah, what that say about you?”

“I’m edgy without the sharp.” He counters quickly, pressing a kiss to her throat, drawing a soft groan, “I’m edgy with rounded edges.”

Her delighted laugh makes something stir in Sans’s soul, a sheer happiness that almost makes him feel weak with pleasure and happiness, and damn if he doesn’t love his girl, “I love you.” He whispered, almost afraid to say it out loud and she’d come to her senses.

Yet, Lilith smiled back up at him. Not a grin, or a smirk or something false, but real and only for him when she whispers, “I love you too Sans.”

Sans is helpless to smile back down at her, gooey and soft, and so very deeply in love with the mage he’s pressed himself against.

She reaches up for him, cupping his cheeks to draw him down for another kiss, one that Sans goes down willingly for. It’s deep and soft, his tongue brushing at hers when he deepens the kiss, his magic solidifying between his legs when there’s a desperate knock at their door.

Sans groans, skull dropping to her shoulder and Lilith sighs unhappily.

“We should ignore it.” Sans mutters into her soft skin, snuggling into her side.

“Could be important.” She mutters weakly, arms going around him in a brief squeeze before they loosen, and she gently nudges him off her chest.

Sans sighs in disappointment, drawing Lilith back for another quick kiss, one interrupted by another rap at their door. Adjusting himself, Sans tries to find a comfortable position in his shorts with his magic heavy and on the verge of becoming solid.

He lounges on their bed, legs spread a little more then usual when Lilith opens the door, and he’s quick to pick up his worn book on constellations to pretend he was reading. He only looks up when Lilith’s surprised voice reaches his non-existent ears, making him frown, “Felix?”

It is, in fact, Felix on the other side of the door, hands shoved into his jeans with a slump to his shoulders. His full lips have pulled into a sad, confused frown, brows furrowed, and his eyes are surprisingly soft.

Sans’s frowns himself, not used to see Felix’s eyes lacking the near glittering madness or always their edge of violence. Felix almost looked…human, as disturbing as that was. 

“I think I’m in trouble.” He muttered, voice soft and unsure, looking up at Lilith from under his lashes before darting back down at his feet.

Lilith froze, and any arousal Sans may have felt is doused by the fact Felix has come to his sister with a problem. Ice crawls up his spine like creeping spiders, and with an air of cold determination, Sans closes his book to set back aside to focus on the task at hand.

Lilith doesn’t say anything to her brother, only silently takes him by the elbow to lead him inside, kicking the door shut while Sans makes for their shared closet.

Felix has already been guided to their bed and sat down, eyes down cast as Lilith looks him over for injury when Sans makes his way back to their bed, thick rubber gloves and aprons in his hands; hidden in the back of the closet, just in case.

Felix doesn’t say anything as Lilith carefully checks him over, inspecting his suspiciously clean hands and uninjured arms as Sans stands next to her, concern frown firmly fixed on his face. If someone’s hurt Felix, Sans is going to show them just how much of the Judge he still was, and that’s only if Lilith didn’t get to them first. 

“Are you hurt?” Lilith’s voice is as cold as a block of ice and as solid as a brick wall, eyes flashing crimson with magic.

The sad looks finally cracks on Felix’s face, contorting to confusion as he lifts his eyes to his sister, “What?”

Lilith’s frown deepens as she takes his other hand, carefully checking it over as well, flipping his palm to look over his hand and wrist, “How many?”

“What?” Felix asks again, and uncertainty begins to build in Sans’s chest at Felix’s words, “How many what?”

Bewildered, Sans blinks at him, setting the heavy rubber gloves and aprons aside, speaking slowly in case Felix has gone into shock or something equally as damaging, “Bodies.” He says carefully, “How many bodies do we need to get rid of?”

Felix blinks at him slowly, then to Lilith before going back to him, looking a mixture of amused and annoyed, “I can hide my own bodies, thanks guys. I’m possessed, not an idiot.” That brings both Lilith’s and Sans’s eyes to his face with a frown, “I mean, I appreciate you were both ready to fucking move a body, no questions asked for me, but let’s be real. I can open portals to the Nether. I’m good, I can fucking deal with my own bodies, thanks.” 

Sans rolls his eye lights, picking up the aprons and gloves the same time Lilith huffed annoyed at her brother, “Guess I’ll just put these back then.” He shrugs. Ah well, it was probably for the best any ways.

Lilith is speaking at the same time, annoyed as she widens her stance and her hands to go her hips like an irritated superhero, “Then what the fuck do you want? It’s date night.”

Felix’s brow furrows, “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. What fucking date are you having.” 

Sans peeks from their walk in before Lilith can say anything, dead panned when he sighs, “We take what we can get, its been a bit busy.”

Felix rolls his eyes and crosses his arms with a huff, “Well, I need your help.”

“Sure.” Lilith still sounds annoyed, “What?”

Felix’s eyes drop again, and the uncomfortable look comes back to his face, and he squirms in discomfort.

Lilith raises a brown at him, waiting on Felix to find his voice, when Sans did it for him. “You finally figure out you gotta crush on Wine and Coffee?”

Felix freezes, his entire body goes stiff like he does just before someone attacks him and he’s readying a counterattack. Lilith looks smug, but doesn’t smile until Felix’s small voice asks, “Is it really that noticeable?”

Lilith’s eyebrow raises higher, and she tilts her head in disappointment, “I told you when they were in the infirmary you were in love.” She reminded him plainly, as if it had been painfully obvious to her.

Sans lifts his hands, his grin creeping back up into place, “Yeah, dude. It’s like you have a big red sign that says, ‘let me kiss you on the mouth’ every time you look at either of them.”

Lilith nods, “Yeah, Felix, you’re not even subtle about it.”

Deadpan, Felix sighs at them, “Thanks guys. You’ve been super helpful.” Lilith shrugs, not looking sorry in the least bit, “So. When did you know that you liked each other?”

Lilith hums, has to think about it, but Sans can remember it with picture perfect clarity when he _knew_ he was in love, “When Chara dumped Lilith in the void, and I couldn’t get to her.” The two mages look at him with surprise, but his voice is firm when remembering his time underground, “I was messed up from…what happened. But I remember that, I remember feeling so helpless when you fell. I felt terror that I didn’t even feel when Chara and Flowy tortured me or Oliva raped me. I knew in that moment, I loved you and I was afraid I would never see you again.”

He turns a shade blue at their shocked faces, and Lilith softens, “Awe, love.” He glances away with a blush, scratching at the back of his neck and Lilith grins at him, “Just before our first kiss. When Undyne stabbed me through the throat, and I nearly bled out. Sans took me to the Bun’s Hotel to hide out, and he held me all soft and warm.”

Felix blinks at her even as Sans grins back up at her, shy and soft, even when Felix sputters, “I’m sorry. Undyne did what?”

Faint, distant memories from Sloan’s insurance policy want to bubble upwards, but their hazy with age and Lilith’s blood loss, and she waves him off, “Old news Felix. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He blinks at her and sighs, “Okay, so. What the hell do I do about it?” his voice cracks a little with desperation, and that more then anything makes Lilith soften. Felix is just as confused as she had been, most of his date mates were flings, one-night stands and any that he did like beyond that either tried to purge the demon from his soul or tried to kill him.

It wasn’t like he had any experience with someone he actually liked.

It wasn’t like Lilith had much more experience.

Huffing a sigh, Lilith tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and sat next to her bother and patted his shoulder, “I dunno.” She admitted.

Felix groaned, crossing his eyes in annoyance and fell back on to the bed with an irritated huff, “Well, you’re not very helpful.” He muttered up at her, hiding his face behind his hands.

Sans pulled himself up on to the bed on Felix’s others side, his elbows going to his knees and his chin propped up on his hands. His feet swung out in shallow little kicks, “Well, what would you normally do?”

“If I like someone?” Felix asked, spreading his fingers out to peek between them.

Sans gave him a little nod and an amused grin, “Yeah.”

Huffing a sigh, Felix let his hands drop to his chest, “Ask if they wanted to fuck around.”

Lilith snorted, and Sans’s grin got a little wider, “Well, do that.”

Groaning again, Felix sighs, “But I like them. And their Den mates, and I want them to come back.”

“Don’t whine.” Lilith sighed, “You’re a battle mage, work the problem.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know how to work the problem. I asked Ryder, but he was useless and had no advice. Papyrus pursued him with _our_ help. You two are the closest thing to a normal relationship I have to base it off, and you two met underground while being attacked by fucking everyone.” Crossing his arms, Felix huffs, “I mean. How the fuck does anyone start dating? How do you even!”

Lilith frowned at her brother, not liking his defeated tone, and Sans scratches the back of his neck before he slowly speaks, “Well. You could ask Paps to borrow his dating manual. That might help.” 

“I did.” Felix sighs, staring up at the ceiling, “The thing reads like stereo instructions. It made no fucking sense.” Or at least, not to a battle mage with poor social skills and who faked it most of the time.

Lilith sighed and lay back next to her brother, nudging his shoulder, “I dunno then Felix. And I mean,” she winces at her next words, knowing how they’ll sound, no matter how much she dreads them, “They aren’t staying. Do you really want to get involved with someone who’s going to leave in a few weeks?”

Felix goes quiet, eyes going sad when he shrugs, “They could come back, no rules against that.” His voice goes smaller, “And. Maybe they’ll want to stay if we’re nice to them. We aren’t going to kick them out, if they want to stay, are we?”

Lilith doesn’t have an answer for him, not for his dating woes or his want to keep these Den mates close. Lilith got it, she did, she wanted to keep them close too.

More then once she buried her vice under a layer of icy calm when she saw Crow flinch if she moved too fast, or Red freeze if someone raised their voice. There were dozens of other instances that made Lilith want to keep them close by, made her want to protect them with vicious intent.

Fuck, even seeing Nightmare flinch back when Felix laughed a little too loud, made something angry bubble in her soul. 

Sans leans back as well, adjusts his position so that he’s shoulder to shoulder with Felix too, and looks a little wistfully up at the ceiling, “I mean, it would be nice if they stayed.” He added quietly.

Felix snorts, “Is it because you think Edge’s got a nice ass?”

Sans and Lilith both shrug on either side of Felix, and don’t deny it.

Unhelpful, for sure, but at least he isn’t alone how he feels. He isn’t the only one who wants to keep the Crew. “You think if we keep feeding Nightmare dark souls, he’ll want to stay and be good?”

Lilith snorts, and Sans grins at his side, “Why give up a good thing.” Sans tells the mages, blasé about the whole thing. 

“What if his brother found him?” Lilith asked quietly, staring up at the ceiling with a frown, “Are we ready to start a war?”

She knows the answer before Felix or Sans even say it, “Yes.” They both say at the same time, and really, fuck the multiverse. They didn’t want the Crew, but the mages did.

Lilith nods slowly, “I think the others would agree.” Biting at her lip, she squints at the ceiling, “Well, that’s a good place to start, I think. Convincing them to stay.”

“Great.” Felix sighs, glaring upwards now, “What the fuck do I do about Wine and Coffee?”

Sans snorts, “Cuddle them every chance you get.” That gets Felix to turn his head towards Sans, and Lilith to lift onto her elbows so she could look at him with a frown, waiting for him to explain, “You guys are warm and soft, like a living blanket. It’s what endeared me to Lili at the start.” He goes bluer, “I mean, you guys are cuddly and its nice to be held.” 

Lilith grins at him, a splash of red lighting up her face and Felix huffs, “You two are disgustingly adorable and completely unhelpful.” He pouts, earning a sage nod from them both.

Felix doesn’t make mention that, yeah, he’s got that covered. The question is, what is he supposed to do now?


	13. Their New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge settles into the mage's routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Chapter 13 is up and live, Chapter 14 maybe a day or two behind. They were supposed to be one chapter, but when I finished writing it, it felt like two from a narrative point of view. Since these two chapters were supposed to be a singe chapter, there will be a double update this week, Chapter 14 just needs some editing. :) 
> 
> *whispers* then we're onto the first big bad
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: non-graphic injury, broken bones, minor AU typical violence. Bad flirting.

Rolling over onto his side, Edge tries to find a comfortable position in the tight cot that has been his since Lilith princess-carried him into this world; a humiliating moment in his life, but he’d been so out of it when it happened, he allowed it passively. Thinking back on it now in the darkness of the infirmary and the safety of his own cot, he allows himself to feel the warmth in his soul when he remembers the thick, muscular arms around his battered body and the heat from her skin. Edge doesn’t remember a time that someone had held him so gently, like they cared about his well being and health, someone who gave a damn about _him._

Edge pushes the thought away, knows that its pointless, that the mages won’t want them to stay and focuses instead on the uncomfortableness of the cot. It wasn’t really meant for someone his height, leaving him uncomfortably cramped and sleeping with his hip skewed despite the soft blanket and thick pillow that Lilith and Sans bought him on his first day here.

Edge feels something soft fill his soul when he thinks of the battle mage and her soft little mate again. He doesn’t get why they’re so nice to him, but they are, and Edge isn’t sure what to do with all that kindness. He knows Red doesn’t trust it, not in the least bit, too long spent suffering at the hands of others to trust so easily, but he’s softened towards those two even just a little. Softened under their kindness and generosity, two things that _no one_ had ever directed towards them, and especially Red.

No one beyond Edge and Mercy were nice to Red.

Edge sees it even if Red doesn’t yet.

Edge sees it in the way that they are kind to he and Mercy, in the way Lilith wasn’t angry that Red launched fucking soup into her face by accident, the way they’re kind to Red. Red was trouble, tough to manage, had trouble regulating his emotions at the best of times, had trouble admitting them, and not once had Lilith raised a hand towards him.

She hadn’t even raised her voice during the whole soup debacle, laughed with the others as if it were hilarious. Her ego hadn’t even taken a dent, she brushed it off as easily as water rolling off a duck’s back and she didn’t take offence. 

Then, somehow, and Edge has no idea how, she convinced Red to come downstairs to watch them play Mario Party, and put him into such a comfortable space that _Red_ fell asleep. Red barely slept back in Underfell, too many threats to truly find peace, and yet, Lilith and Sans managed to lull him to sleep in a few short days.

Edge knows his bother is just as confused by this as he is, doesn’t know what to do with it, not when life lessons have taught them all very well that kindness isn’t to be trusted. Pain was an excellent teacher, making Edge and Red suffer enough of it to learn all it’s life lessons.

Yet.

Yet the mages were different or seemed different anyways. Their kindness seemed real, their actions spoke louder then even their promises to protect them and the spell that bound them all together. The mages were _nice_ to them when they didn’t have to be.

An oddity that none of them knew how to deal with, and Edge could see them crumbling one by one under that warm kindness that the mages all seemed so eager to share. Even Nightmare succumbed to the mages’ kindness, softening particularly under Sloan’s gentle care and more then once had Edge sought him out to discuss something only to find him doing something with Sloan and Sin.

Rolling over in his cot, Edge thought how only yesterday, when he had searched for Nightmare to discuss about moving Red into his own room, Edge had found Nightmare with Sloan and Sin, sound asleep while they watched a movie.

Thing was, Nightmare had pressed himself between Sloan’s long, willowy legs while she lay between Sin’s, her back pressed into Sin’s chest while Nightmare’s face was buried into her belly while he slept. Her long delicate fingers were stroking absentmindedly along the back of Nightmare’s neck while Sin’s long arms wrapped around Sloan’s shoulders as he leaned forward.

Sin’s mouth had been pressed against the back of Sloan’s shoulder, bare in her crop top, his sockets half lidded as he started to slip into sleep as well.

Edge had backed out of the room quietly, allowed them to rest and cuddle, and left Edge to worry. They were all getting awfully attached to the mages, but if Edge was reading the room right, the mages were getting attached right back.

It was going to make things harder to leave, and not for the first time, Edge wonders if they need to leave at all? If the mage’s want them here and they want to stay, couldn’t they find a compromise?

Of course, that is to say if the mage’s do want them to stay and this isn’t just them being kind. Keeping them would mean drawing Dream and Ink’s attention eventually, not to mention that Error and Reaper would come looking for Nightmare as well, either of those scenarios could lead to a war, and was that fair to their hosts?

Likely not, Edge couldn’t expect the mages to put their lives on the line for them, couldn’t expect they’d even want to try to keep them safe from the likes of those. No, it was better to leave as allies then draw attention to this soft, warm safe haven they’ve found.

Edge wasn’t in the habit of convincing himself of things that would never be. He couldn’t keep Lilith or Sans, couldn’t convince them to let them stay, and wouldn’t put them in that kind of danger any how.

No, better to live in reality and prepare for their eventual return to their own home and their norm. It’d hurt, sure, but he’d survive, he could take the pain.

Red rolled over in his cot next to Edge with a sigh, trying to find a comfortable position, muttering into his pillow. Lola had pulled the IV from his soul yesterday, should be ready to cut Red lose and let him have his own room in the west wing by today so long as his magic held steady.

Edge was looking forward to that, he’d already chosen their rooms with a neatly made beds and plain off-white walls, next to each other. Close enough that if his brother needed him, he’d be there, but far enough apart to have their own space.

Edge couldn’t wait. He was sick of sleeping in a cot, was ready for his own bed and was only still here for Red. The thought of his brother sleeping alone in the infirmary didn’t sit well with Edge, and he was grateful that Red was almost ready to be allowed to leave.

The door opened with a creak, making Edge flinch before he steeled himself, lifting up onto his elbow, magic sparking at his fingers as he glared into the still dark room in the early hours of the morning.

The crimson magic was bright in the dark, and Lilith froze when his magic snapped like static electricity at his fingers. The crimson magic lit Lilith up like a Christmas tree, red light washing her out and looking pale when her own eyes went wide with her own magic, dark against his own.

The room seemed hyper dark when he was quick to snuff out his magic, plunging them so suddenly into darkness that he couldn’t even see the outline of the mage, but he could hear her voice, “Sorry!” she whispered to him, “I’m just doing the checks.”

Edge huffs at her, checking the time on his battered phone, “Lilith, its four thirty-two in the morning, what are you doing?” his gravelly, baritone voice asked into the darkness.

His vision begins to adjust to the lack of light, and he can see her outline just as she shrugs, “I told Lola I’d check on Red and Rips before we go on our run.”

Sure enough, she’s bending down near Ripper to check on him, fingers gentle as she probed at his shoulder before she slipped over to Red to do the same thing. Fingers careful along his collar bone to check his temperature, keen eyes glossed over with crimson magic that are bright in the dark, watching him breath slowly as Edge pushed himself to sit up.

“Why the fuck are you going on a run at four thirty in the morning.” He snaps at her, as if she had even woken him, and he doesn’t mean to be so waspish, sleeping in the cot is making him cranky.

He sees Lilith shrug again, her voice low as to not wake Red, “Deep well of magic, high HP and high LV,” and Edge frowns at Lilith and wonders what Nightmare found on the Check. It seems rude to ask, so he’ll ask Nightmare rather then Lilith, “It keeps my body running basically at a hundred all the time. Lots of energy to burn through, and if I want to keep my muscle mass, that’s something I got to work at.”

She stills, seems to mull something over before she asks, “You wanna come with?”

Edge pauses, blinks at her in the dark and briefly considers that no one had ever asked him to do anything with them before. He was always told or forced, and never for pleasure.

It’s an odd feeling to have someone want to include you in things when you’d spend so many years being forced to stay on the outskirts. When you had always been excluded from everything and anything fun, anything that would have eased their rotten existence.

_~~Edge doesn’t think of the parties had had been invited too, both from Asgore and Muffet. He’d had no choice but to say yes, and he hadn’t enjoyed the luxuries that had been forced upon he and Red.~~ _

_~~He still bore the scars, both physically and mentally from Asgore’s last Ball, not long before Nightmare found them.~~ _

“I don’t think I have anything to run in.” he says weakly, despite how his soul throbs with his want to be included and thinks its stupid he feels like that.

Lilith creeps closer to him, voice still low, a sweet gesture that Edge thinks is unnecessary. Red isn’t going to wake up unless her intent chances to something far more volatile, or a bomb goes off outside the infirmary. He’s been sleeping better and deeper since their arrival into this world.

“Check the cloths Sloan grabbed.” She tells him as she kneels and pulls out a drawer tucked beneath the cot, her hands patting blindly at the cloths, “Sloan said she grabbed you guys a ton of stuff.” And she had, too much Edge thought, but he didn’t want to insult the mages by saying so, “Sleep stuff. Summer stuff, winter suff.” Her nimble fingers brush at the folded clothing, looking for something, “Casual stuff. Nicer stuff. We were sure what you’d need or want. Oh! Here!” she whispered softly as she pulled something out from near the bottom. 

She stands and pressed the drawer closed with her foot as she hands him a pair of thin, loose pants and a soft t shirt, carefully folded over a pair of new runners, socks carefully balled on top, “Sloan grabbed stuff in red and black for you.” Edge can see her suddenly grin as he takes the items, “Nothing green.” She told him, voice edging into something bright, “Red magic and green cloths looks too Christmasish, trust me, its not a good look.” 

“Of course.” he agreed with a grin of his own, feeling uncertain and softer, “We can’t have anything clash.”

“For propriety.” She nodded in agreement, lightly teasing in the same way she did with Sans.

It makes Edge grin back at her, but it’s lost in the dark, “Thank you Lilith.”

She nods, gives him a little wink a la Sans, “Any time Edge. Get changed and I’ll meet you outside and we’ll go make sure Felix is up.” 

He nods, watches her leave, feeling soft and stupid, hates that he likes being included in something so silly as a run, but changes quickly as to not make her wait.

Stepping out into the hall, Edge tries not to feel self conscious in the lightweight black pants or plan black t shirt. They’re a little on the baggy side and should be taken in a little more to make them fit properly.

Lilith is waiting against the wall just outside the infirmary wearing a black sports bra with crossed straps across her shoulder blades and black yoga capris. Her running attire does nothing to hide her muscular body, flat stomach, or the swell of her bosom.

Edge is quick to advert his gaze, this was Sans’s mate, and despite how he felt about _both_ , he wasn’t stupid enough to think they would be fond of him like that. Why would they be, he was a useless, homeless monster who had allowed his Crew and family to nearly die. He couldn’t even keep them safe.

He didn’t deserve nice things, he didn’t deserve…

“You okay?” her soft voice draws his deep eye lights up, and it’s an odd feeling to not be the strongest one in the room. How long had that been him? Why was it that’s what his whole identity was tied up in?

“Fine.” He rasps, tries not to pick at the seam of his shirt self consciously.

Lilith’s head tilts, dark eyes glancing up and down his frame with a frown before she speaks, “Don’t worry. We had to have all of Sans’s stuff brought in too.”

Edge looks up at her grinning face, soft with some unnamed emotion and Edge isn’t used to seeing, isn’t used to seeing her face so open, or her hair pulled back to expose the long column of her throat. She nudged his shoulder with a small grin, “We know a great seamstress. We’ll give her a call and get your stuff fitted properly.” As if it was that simple, and maybe for her it was.

Relief swells, and Edge is grateful that she hasn’t made the connection as to what he’s actually bothered by. He falls in steps with her easily as they head downstairs to fetch Lilith’s brother.

“Okay, so, there’s some rules to our runs.” Because of course there are, stars forbid they do anything remotely normal Edge thinks to himself, amused. Lilith continues as they come to the landing that their rooms are on, still walking in step with him, “Don’t kick someone when their down.” He gives her a confused look, “And don’t use lethal attacks. Don’t forget, only Felix and I can take the damage and heal, the others can’t. So when you sabotage the others run, just keep that in mind.” 

They come to Felix’s door, and Lilith’s knuckles rap sharply against the wood, and Edge has far more questions then answers, “What?”

Lilith grins up at him as they wait on Felix, “What, you didn’t think we run like humans did you?” her eyes sparkle with amusement, “Think of it more as a training exercise. Everyone is against you; everyone will attack you. Your job is to dodge, counter and avoid as long as possible, then be the first one back home.”

Edge feels his soul cramp and his mouth tick downward with uncertainty. Lilith rocks back on her toes, gives him a soft smile, “Don’t worry.” He is, “It’s all in good fun. No ones serious about the attacks. It’s more sabotage then anything else.”

Edge isn’t sure about that, feels like he’s going to be the rabbit in this scenario, until Lilith nudges him again, “Tell you what. It’s your first time out with us, I’ll watch your back.” She grins up at him, “I’ll make sure Felix doesn’t centre you out.” 

That’s enough to help Edge relax a little, feeling a little fonder of the mage that she was willing to turn on her own brother for Edge.

Even in a rough game of jogging.

“Thank you, Lilith.” His voice is rough and deep, like the words have been torn from his throat, “I will be sure to return the favor.”

She brightens up at him, and Edge finds he doesn’t mind it, “Thanks Edge.”

The door to Felix’s door opens before Edge can say anything else, and Edge raises a brow at the mage. He looks a little dishevelled, his Moe hawk flat, unbrushed and un-styled, his cloths a little baggy on him as well and Edge doesn’t feel so bad.

Felix yawns wide, showing off bright white teeth and he rubs sleepily at a dark eye, “Morning.” He sounds drowsy as he reaches for the doorknob of his room, missing more then once as he tries to wake up.

A tawny fist rubs at his eyes again with a sigh, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, allowing both Edge and Lilith to look past Felix and into bedroom. Wine is sound asleep in Felix’s bed, his small body curled into a ball, snoring softly into a pillow.

Edge raises a brow, his mouth becoming a hard line and his eye lights burn like hell fire as his soul goes cold; he doesn’t want to believe that the mage is taking advantage of one of his own, but Wine’s limp and asleep in Felix’s bed, and it’s hard to think of what else that could be.

Lilith’s face drops as she gives her brother an unimpressed look, frowning a little at him with a raised brow.

Felix should know better. They were at such a delicate juncture with the Crew, fucking one of them now could be seen as a form of payment and she was sure after their chat he was not going to try messing around with one of them. It could upset the delicate balance they were building, and if they moved too quickly or if Nightmare saw Felix as taking advantage of one of his own, they’d leave for sure. 

Felix blinks at her with sleepy confusion, takes in Edge’s fury before he looks behind him at Wine. Turning back to them, Felix rolls his eyes, “Okay, you can both stand the fuck down. We just slept together.”

That doesn’t put Edge at ease, and Lilith tilts her head the other way, looking at him in disbelief. Felix huffs, giving his sister a skewed look, “Sleeping. With cloths on. I didn’t touch him; we didn’t have sex.” He crosses his arms, looking a little betrayed, “I wouldn’t do that to him, not while he’s still healing. _Besides,_ ” and now that sass is something Edge is used to even as he relaxes, “Even if we did, it wouldn’t be either of your judgmental ass’s business.”

And, yeah that was fair, but when it’s your job to watch out for the others, it’s hard to let that go.

Felix turns to Edge, and it always surprises him that such a big personality was stuffed in a body shorter then his own, and Felix had to look up at him, face softening, “Wine’s having nightmares.” he admits to them, his annoyance turning into concern as his mouth tips downwards, “He’s been sleeping in my bed the last four days.” He looks down at his bare feet, crossing his arms and holding the balled socks in his hand a little tighter, “He gets a better sleep next to me, and listens to my heartbeat, okay?”

Edge doesn’t get that, not in the least bit, but Lilith softens towards her brother as Felix sighs and pulls the door closed, “And I just got him to sleep, so lets leave him that way, yeah?”

Lilith smirks at him, softens inward a little and can’t imagine the courage it must have taken Wine to walk from his quarters to Felix’s, “Aww, Felix, we used to do that for you.” She flashes him an amused grin before she looks up at Edge, “Battle mages _are_ notoriously warm and cuddly. We do make the best sleeping mates.”

Edge isn’t sure if that’s a proposition or not, but it makes Felix sigh and roll his eyes at his sister. He looks between Edge and Lilith, rolling his eyes again, “Your fucking ridiculous.” He tells her as he slips past, hopping on one foot to slip on a sock before he makes his way down stairs still missing a sock, “You’ve already got one.” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way down, leaving Edge and Lilith by his door.

Edge has no idea what he’s talking about, is just as confused as ever, but if Wine is sleeping better with the mage, Edge isn’t going to begrudge him what little peace he’s found. 

Lilith’s head dips, and Edge misses the blush that scalds her face. She clears her throat before asking, “Ready?”

Edge isn’t sure he’s ready for whatever this is about to be, but he nods and follows the mage downstairs to the others.

-

It starts normally enough, Edge thinks.

The mages are stretching, legs pressed against the side of the building and arms over head as they bend and twist. With a smirk, Lilith joins her brothers and sisters, sitting in the damp grass, reaching for one foot.

Papyrus is tying his shoelace near Ryder, and Edge feels better to not be the only monster running with them in the damp morning, so early that the sun has only begun to hint at rising. The air is cool that early in the morning, but the promise of springtime almost summer heat is a tease in the air.

Papyrus looks up with a grin, makes his way over to Edge, who has stuck close to Lilith, “Good morning Edgy-Me!” he says brightly, slapping Edge’s shoulder hard enough that it nearly drops him to his knees, but he stays standing the a grunt, “I’m so delighted that you have joined us on our morning dodging drill.”

Edge shifts, feeling a little unsure of himself, of what he’s supposed to be doing, teeth clenched tightly close as he nods. His spine is straight as if someone had taped a metal rod to his bones, legs together and arms pinned to his sides.

He suddenly feels like a too tight spring, and he isn’t sure what to do with all his nervous energy. Papyrus loosens, used to Lilith and Felix when they were guarding him in Ryder’s place and knows he’s safe with the mages, “Don’t worry, I’m sure the others will go easy on you, it’s your first day.”

Edge isn’t convinced by Felix’s dark laughter, and Papyrus sighs at him, hands on his hips, “Felix.” He scolds, “You will not push Edge into the lake.”

Felix laughs again, laughs harder at Edge’s concerned look, “That was once.” He stood to pull his arm over his head.

“Sans hasn’t come running with us since.” Papyrus huffed, sockets narrowing at Felix’s, “And I don’t think you appreciate the effort on mine and Lilith’s part to get him to come out with us that one time.”

Felix grinned as Lilith pushed herself to her feet, coming to stand on Edge’s other side, a warm line of power and magic, and it makes Edge feel better.

“Yeah well, Sans got me back.” He frowns, brows furrowed, “I still can’t figure out how he tied my laces together.” 

Lilith grins at her brother, pride shining in her crimson eyes at the thought of her mate, and Edge is sure that Lilith knows how Sans did it, “He’s very talented.” She turns to Edge, head tilting in question, “You mind helping me stretch?”

And he’s relieved that he’s been giving something to do other then stand around and wait. He nods, tries not to look desperate, but his body is still stiff and tense, “Of course.”

Lilith nods, turns so that she’s facing him, allowing Edge to disengage from Papyrus and Felix as they bicker playfully, “What do I need to do?”

“I’m going to lift up my foot, and your going to keep lifting it up until I tell you to stop.” Edge nods, allows her to take a half steps towards him and he catches her foot when she lifts it up to his hands.

He moves slowly, lifting her foot up higher until she’s leaning forward, and he has her calf braced on his shoulder. It doesn’t seem to bother her in the least bit as she leans into the hold, getting a better stretch, even as Edge burns with emotions he isn’t sure what to do with.

Edge is still and shoulders tight, afraid to move and hurt her as she braces her hand on his upper arm to balance herself. She leans in a little more, and all Edge can feel is her warm frame against his, “Relax.” She tells him lowly so that only he can hear her, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” She smiles softly at him, and Edge feels his soul throb.

“That’s not all that far of a _stretch_.” and Edge jerks when he hears Sans’s amused voice, is terrified he’s going to get dragged into a fight he doesn’t want to have.

Sans is lounging back against the stairs at his back, propped up on his elbows, legs bent at his knee and spread nearly obscenely wide in invitation. He doesn’t seem particularly offended that Edge has his mate’s body braced against his.

Lilith looks over her shoulder and Edge’s soul throbs again when he can see the delight in her eyes, the absolute love she has for her mate, “Hey love.” Even her voice is softer when she talks to Sans, “You coming out with us?”

Sans shakes his head no as Lilith nods to Edge that she’s done with that leg, and he moves with the utmost care to help her pull her leg down and set up the other one. All the while Sans watches them move, his eye lights forming into soft little hearts before they go back to being hard little circles, “Nah. Just up to watch you stretch like a creep.”

“Right,” Lilith huffs, leaning back into Edge again, body warm and soft and trusting in his sharp claws, all the while her mate is watching, and Edge is selfish enough to wonder what it would be like to have them both. The thought is a hot flash in his mind, there and banished as quickly as possible. He wasn’t going to ruin his only friendship he’s made since the loss of his Undyne by being selfish, “Why do you think I wear the yoga pants.”

Sans sighs, “Oh Evil Mage, your too good to me.”

It makes Edge smile, their light teasing even as Felix sighs behind them. He leans around Edge to glower at Sans, “Dude, gross. That’s my sister.”

Sans shrugs, doesn’t look too sorry, “Not my sister.”

Felix rolls his eyes as Lilith eases downward, loose and limber and ready for a run, “Is ‘Dyne coming with us this morning?”

Sans snickers, “Nah, she was busy last night.” It’s lightly said, nothing nefarious but it makes Felix sigh.

“If your all done.” Sloan is shaking her head at them, arms crossed over her chest but looking amused, “We’re ready.” The battle mages share a quick, competitive look, and Edge feels himself tensing again. He doesn’t know what to expect and doesn’t like the not knowing.

“Rock it out Sloan.” Sans calls from his spot on the stairs, unmoving and unhurried, but looking endlessly amused.

Sloan merely grins at him, “Thank you Sans.” He gives her a polite nod that has Felix looking suspicious at his innocent face, “Sans is going to be counting us out today.” Felix’s eyes narrow in more suspicion as Sloan’s musical voice continues, “Lola was yesterday’s winner,” and the little healer smiles brightly at her Den, face bashful in the yellow gleam of the perimeter lights, “So she’s out last. Paps and Ryder, you’re out first this morning since you came home last yesterday, you’ll have a ten second head start, followed by me with an additional ten seconds, then Lilith and Edge, then Felix and Lola. Sans will time us each out to stagger.”

Brilliant cyan eyes turned to Edge, making him shift from foot to foot under the intense gaze, “Edge, the trail is marked by blue lights.” She nods to the ground and he can see soft balls of blue magic marking the trail, he nods his acknowledgement, so she continues with a grin, “I trust Lilith has gone over the rules?” 

He nods again, voice rough as always, “Yes. Don’t kick someone when they’re down. Battle mages can take real damage, but don’t do lethal damage.” He parrots back the rules with a mouth full of sharp teeth and rough, small voice.

Sloan nods, pulling her thick hair into a bun, “Good. And no teleporting.” She gives Sans a pointed look, to which he doesn’t even react to. His lazy grin hasn’t changed as he continues to smile innocently at Sloan, and Edge knows that Sans is enough like his brother to not trust that grin.

“You all ready?” Sans asks her lightly, and around Edge the mages all nod as excited energy and magic crackle around them.

Lilith rolls her shoulders, and Felix gives her an amused look, one that Lilith is quick to return.

“Alright.” Sans sighs, all lazy nonchalant, “Paps, Ry, getter gone.”

Ryder nods, already sprinting for the forest line while Papyrus takes a moment to look at Edge, “Good luck Edgy-me! Watch out for Felix, he cheats.” He told Edge brightly, drawing a squawk from the battle mage at his audacity.

Papyrus simply gives Felix a merry wave as he sprinted after Ryder as Sans counted down the next ten seconds, “Bye Sloan.” He sighed, and the spell caster was gone, bolting after her brother.

Anticipation fills Edge, he feels full of energy for the first time in weeks, months if he’s honest, and he can feel the bubbling, bright energy from Lilith next to him. “See-ya Evil Mage, Edgelord.”

Lilith doesn’t wait, she’s off like a shot for the tree line, leaving Edge to scramble after her. His longer legs and wider stride allow him to catch up quickly, despite how her body shimmered in crimson magic. “Shouldn’t we pace ourselves?” he manages to ask between heavy pants and gasps of breath as they push themselves a little harder.

Lilith nods, her lungs and heart working hard at the extent of their effort, “We will.” She huffs, “Gotta put distance between us and Felix.”

Edge nods, feels an old, nostalgic feeling of friendly competition, and he’s quick to match her pace as they lay on the speed until they reach the tree line. Its dark in the forest, the sun just starting to rise and only the soft blue light of the magic to guide their way.

Moon light stretches its silvery fingers between the branches of the trees, and already Papyrus, Ryder and Sloan have gone, pulling ahead hard enough to lose Lilith and Edge, and yet they continue to pump their legs as hard as they can. Its almost pretty, in the cool morning and the silvery light dying before the sun rises, and Edge tries to ignore how nice this _actually_ is.

They need to put distance between them and Felix, and he needs to get into the game. No one doubts that Lilith is the better fighter, the more proficient fighter, but Felix was faster.

Edge didn’t even hear him coming, he moved on silent, deadly feet, only knew that one moment he and Lilith were running side by side, the next Felix was _there_.

He flashes his sister a vicious, cruel grin before he does a weird little hop and drives his heel into the side of her knee. Edge winces at the sharp crack as her knee snapped and bends in the wrong way sideways, and Lilith goes down hard, ass over teakettle as she face plants into the dirt path and rolls uncontrolled. Edge skids to a stop, his runners sliding along the dirt path as he stops as quickly as he can, arms pinwheeling to stay up right as he does a one-eighty.

Felix flashes him a cruel grin, eyes glittering gold as he shoots by, arms and legs pumping in tandem as he easily overtakes his sister, trying to put distance between them. Edge ignores him, only has eyes for Lilith, and the blood the pours from her shattered knee and the scrapes at her palms. He bends to help her up, hesitating just before he touches her, sharp claws hoovering over her shoulder.

She pushes herself up with her hands, her shattered knee laying awkwardly out behind her and already her healing trait is tugging the shattered limb back together. Her eyes flash the color of blood as she snarls, “Fucker.”

Her hands pull back, magic sparking at her fingers as she summons a short dagger and throws it at her brother as hard as she can. The dagger flies straight and true, ripping through the back of Felix’s leg and sending him spilling face first into the dirt.

Edge blinks at that, wonders what the hell it says about him that he thought that was arousing, and quickly shoved that thought away as he turned back to Lilith as she slowly started to stand, “Are you alright?”

Lilith looks up at him, surprised that he asked at all, and the color of her eyes dim from blood back to crimson, “Oh. Uh. Yeah.” She shrugs, “We just get a little rough with each other when we’re doing drills.” 

Nodding, Edge glances to Felix groaning on the pathway before he stands offering a hand to help Lilith up. Lilith grins up at him, taking his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his wrist as he carefully pulls her to her own feet, holding on to her elbow until she can steady herself.

Lilith clears her throat, glancing down before looking back up at his scared face, “Thanks.” And she sounds like she means it, and Edge isn’t sure he can remember a time someone thanked him and meant it.

He’s about to tell her not to worry, that it’s fine, when his body suddenly tenses the same time hers does. Instinct is screaming in his head to protect himself despite the lack of cruel intent. Lilith feels it too, is already spinning, swords in hand to deflect the coming attack despite her still healing knee.

Lilith is an offensive fighter, but Edge is a defensive one.

Magic sparks at Edge’s fingers, and the crimson bone constructs shoot upwards from the ground, creating a shield between them and Felix, catching the axe before it could embed itself into Lilith’s thigh. Both battle mage’s stare in shock at the shield that he’s summoned between them, bright red bones that separates them, protecting Lilith at his side.

Felix straightens up in surprise, brows furrowing as he rears back as Lilith looks up at Edge, eyes bright with magic and a wide grin, “Okay, that was pretty cool.”

Her praise makes Edge go red and his soul squeeze. He’s immediately straightening up like Asgore’s just walked into the barracks to inspect the troops and he shakes his head no, “It was nothing.” He’s quick to dismiss.

It’s a merry ting of blue magic that draws Lilith and Edge’s attention, and Felix slumps as his usually yellow soul glows blue through his chest, “Oh come on man. Not fair.” He sighs out loud before he’s bounced once off the ground and tossed like a rag doll into the forest.

Edge winces at the sound of crashing tree branches and the splash of water, and Edge has been here long enough to know that there’s a waterfall and river that feeds into the lake near the compound.

Sans steps out from between two shadows, and Edge would be forgiven to think that Nightmare had to get that talent from somewhere. He’s still bare foot and in his black shorts and blue hoodie, looking as relaxed as he had been sprawled out on the steps of the porch. Dangerous eye lights glitter with dark amusement as Sans tilts his head to study them.

Edge finds himself shifting nervously, missing Sans gives him an appreciative quick up and down, “Nah, Lilith’s right. That was neat.”

Edge’s soul does a weird little twist at the light praise, still so unsure what to do with it, or why Lilith and Sans were so nice to him. “Not many can get one up on Felix.” Sans actually does sound impressed before he looks over to Lilith, “You okay?”

She nods as they make their way over to him, her limp fading as she gets her stride back, “Yeah, I am thanks love.” Her amused eyes slide over to Edge with a grin, “Thanks to Edge. It would have taken some time to heal from an axe to the leg.”

Edge glances away with a shrug as Lilith nears her mate, bending to press a quick kiss to his mouth. Sans grins up at her, nuzzling into her and never one to turn down kisses from Lilith as he smiles against her mouth.

Turned away and pretending to watch the wind dance in the tree branches over head, Edge doesn’t hear Sans mutter against Lilith’s mouth, “Think we should tone it down a little?”

Lilith hums against his mouth with a grin of her own, “Maybe. Don’t actually want to scare them off.”

Sans hums back, pressing in for a quick, deeper kiss before he stepped back, “Okay, so, Sloan overtook Paps and Ryder. If you hurry, you can overtake them before the next check point.”

Edge turned back towards them, raising a brow, “Isn’t this cheating?”

Both Sans and Lilith blink at him and shrug at the same moment. It makes Edge grin back at them with a crooked grin that’s there and gone in the span between one blink and another, “Think of it as aggressive winning.” Sans said lightly, giving him a sassy wink, “Now get going. It wont take Felix long to pull himself out of the river and he’s going to be pissed when he does.”

It makes Lilith laugh and with another quick kiss to Sans’s mouth, they’re off. Edge gives him a nod, one that’s returned with a shy wave and they’re off again.

They don’t get far, and just as they’re picking up speed, Lilith and Edge run into a green shield, bouncing off it painfully, and nearly back onto their asses. Holding his mouth while Lilith holds onto her nose, Sans is by their side again wincing at the sudden appearance of a shield.

“Ohh, that looked like it hurt.” He added helpfully, rocking back on his heels.

“Thanks Love.” Lilith deadpanned, eyes watering as Lola laughed as she walked up the dirt pathway.

The three of them look towards the shield maiden, and Sans gives Lilith and Edge a shrug, “Sorry guys, I don’t fuck with healers.” He added helpfully, glancing up at Lilith, his permi-grin a little shallower.

Lilith sighed, wiping the blood from her nose, and Edge can see the sense in that, but this is a game, right? Aggressive winning, that’s what Sans called it.

After all, he only needed to not hurt Lola, that was all.

Head tilting, he focuses hard as Lola strolls slowly towards them. Good, this would be harder if she were running, and he lifts his hand again, this time summoning blue bones. Lola’s eye go wide as blue magic sparks at Edge’s fingers and she freezes as bone constructs shoots up from the ground around her and cage her in a small box.

She’s frozen, not moving, and would be safe so long as she stayed still, trapped but safe.

Just where Edge wanted her to be.

Slowly, wide eyes and open mouths turned to stare up at Edge in shock, and for a moment Edge withers under their shocked expressions.

He shifts before he gets control over himself again, going straight spine and cold, his voice small when he speaks, “My apologise. I didn’t think she was off limits.”

“She’s not.” Lilith is quick to correct before he frees her sister, and her stunned expression is melting into amusement, “Not at all.”

Lola is yelling curses at them, but it only makes Lilith and Sans grin wider, “Dude, that’s awesome.”

He turns back to Lilith and Edge, eye lights are sparkling with amusement, “Get going. The further away you get the harder the magic will hold yeah?” Edge nods, yes, it will, “Good. Get a head start. I’ll see you at the next check point.”

Sans pauses, gives one last amused look to Lola, stuck and unable to move, “Good job Edgelord. Thanks for keeping my girl safe.” He gives Edge a saucy wink before he disappears between one blink and the next.

Lilith nudges Edge’s ribs, grin bright and eyes shining with excitement that makes Edge melt a little. They don’t judge him or belittle him or even tell him that Lilith doesn’t need a guard. They accepted his help as readily as each other, and they treated him like one of their own.

Like he meant a damn to them.

“Ready?” Lilith asks, her grin bright and from some where in the forest, they can hear Felix cursing.

Edge gives her a cooked grin back with a nod, “Yes.”


	14. Wake Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning continues, and if there's one thing Nightmare can be sure of, it's no two days are the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Here is the second half of chapter 13, now it's own fully fleshed out chapter! I had been hoping to get his up yesterday, but as I was doing it's final edit I realized I hated about 3/4 of what I wrote. Characters were way too OOC, their responses were all wrong, and just bland over all. So I re-wrote that 3/4 of the chapter yesterday, going from a word count of around 6700 to just over 9100. I'm much happier with it, and I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> As a reminder, this is the last of the happy-go-lucky bonding chapters for a while, and starting next week is the beginning of our bad news bears plot point. Again, now would be a good time to remind yourself of the tags, and as always each chapter will have specific warnings.
> 
> WARNINGS: vague implication of rape/ non-con elements, slightly more detailed description of broken bones, blood, stabbing, description of feeling hopeless and depression.

Coming up to the roof of the mage’s compound, following the heavy wafts of hurt and depression in the early morning, Nightmare frowns when he finds Sin sitting over the edge of the building, legs swinging out over nothingness as he hunches inward on himself. It’s still early, so early that the sun has only just starting to rise, its golden rays chasing away the gentle moon beams and no self-respecting Sans would be up this early.

Not unless he got up to harass his mate and her brother on their full contact run or had spent the night tossing and turning with insomnia, plagued by nightmares and painful memories.

Nightmare was willing to put good G on which category Sin fell under.

Just beyond the tree line, there’s a flash of crimson magic, and Nightmare knows that the mages are well on their way on their morning jog, and Sloan was long gone already. Typically, this early in the morning only Nightmare and the Den are up as they head out for their no holds barred training. Usually, if Sin managed to haul himself out of bed at this time, it was only to see Sloan off and would slink back to his room for a little more sleep once she was gone.

The heavy negative feelings that rolled off Sin like waves hitting a shore line gave Nightmare a pretty good guess that this was more of an insomnia ridden need to do something other then stare at his ceiling and nothing to do with wanting to see Sloan off.

Seeing Sloan when Sin was feeling poorly about himself was a perk of staying here, and usually helped him relax enough to sleep. Sloan, the clever spell caster that she was, picked up on these signs quickly, and always sought Sin out after her run to make sure he was doing okay.

_~~It warmed Nightmare’s soul to see her care like that, care about one of his Crew. She cared enough to make sure he had enough sleep, and Nightmare had no idea what to do with that feeling.~~ _

Frowning, Nightmare shoves his feelings away as he slowly makes his way to the lip of the roof, leisurely climbing over it to sit next to Sin. It’s a long way down, and Nightmare feels a swell of unease that he’s not accustomed too. Sin wouldn’t survive the fall if he slipped, an unimaginable thought to lose one of his own, and the tentacles at his back are quick to pool thickly behind them. Not yet touching, but ready to grab Sin should he take a tumble.

_~~Nightmare refuses to entertain the thought that Sin would jump. He wouldn’t, not after how far he’s come. No, this is just a peaceful place to sit, and there’s something soothing about swinging your legs, that’s why Sin’s up here.~~ _

Giving him a sideways look, Nightmare frowns as Sin takes a hard hit from his cigarette, tick grey smoke blooming upward from his mouth and sockets. Nightmare suppresses a sigh as he settles in beside him; Sin looks tired, more so then usual, and whether that was from worrying over Ripper or the nightmares that plagued him, it was hard to say which was hitting him harder.

“You’re up early.” Nightmare starts lightly, better to ease the truth from Sin then force it out. He was still a Sans, would shut tight if he felt forced and frankly, Nightmare didn’t want to break something by trying to make Sin talk about it.

No, it was better to let Sin come to him with his issues then force it.

Nightmare’s soul gave another unexpected pang, an old feeling of fondness for Sin that he doesn’t know how to manage swells next to the worry and Nightmare drowns it quickly before he does something stupid.

Sin shrugs, flicking the ash from his smoke and curls a little tighter into his coat, “Couldn’t sleep.” His voice is rough with exhaustion, and that makes Nightmare sit up a little straighter. Sin was an expert at hiding his pain, could plaster on a happy grin when he was bleeding out or dying on the inside, so for him to show weakness, to sound like he was hurting, was alarming.

Nightmare stares at him with a sharp, azure eye light, “Oh?”

Sin nods at the small word that could speak volumes, knew that it could be twisted into an order, but Nightmare’s leaving it up to Sin to take it as he does, “I’ve been getting nightmare’s again.” He whispers softly in the space between them in the gentle morning light as if that would protect him, still not facing Nightmare.

The Guardian of negativity stills, frowns as he looks out into the dark forest, takes in another flash of magic as the mages continue their run, “So is Wine.” Nightmare admits quietly, “The last few days. He’s been very cuddly with Felix to get to sleep.”

Sin laughs a little bitterly, taking another deep drag from his cigarette, “Yeah, I saw that. I caught him in his walk of shame yesterday. Poor lamb, was all flustered and embarrassed.” The bitter grin falls, leaving Sin looking exhausted and vulnerable, “Didn’t tell him, but I was looking for Sloan to nap with too.” He gives Nightmare a helpless look, “Can’t take the high road if Wine finds out I was doing the same as he was.”

Nightmare snorts, “I’m fairly confident that Wine knew what you were up to. It’s not as if you’ve been subtle with your feelings for Sloan.”

Sin shrugs again, it’s weaker this time and he looks away, “We’re all having nightmare’s here.”

It makes Nightmare frown, “I wonder if it’s this place?” and if it was, they would leave. Nightmare wouldn’t subject his Crew to any more pain and suffering. They had suffered enough in their home universes, and if memories they had all blocked away are ripping their way out, Nightmare wasn’t going to stand for it. 

Sin shakes his head no, looking away so that Nightmare can’t see his face, “No.” his voice sounds a little watery, and every alarm bell goes off in Nightmare’s head, “I think it’s the people.” That only brings more confusion, “The mages are so nice to us. They’re protecting us,” his chuckle is a horrible mix of watery bitterness and sadness, “We’re allowed to be okay here.”

His laugh is a little shrill, “We’re allowed to not be okay here. They’ve given us space to process our fucking trauma, and I don’t think they’ve even realized that’s what they’re doing.”

If Sin thinks he’s being discrete when he wipes at his face with the sleeve of his coat, he’s not, and it makes Nightmare’s soul sing in hurt. He’s not used to the overwhelming feelings of caring for someone else and can only awkwardly put his hand on Sin’s lower spine in comfort.

It’s a poor substitute for whatever it is that Sin needs, but it’s all Nightmare knows how to do. All he can offer.

“I like it here.” And fuck if Sin doesn’t sound miserable, and Nightmare wishes Sloan were here. She’d know what to do or say to make him feel better. Would know the secret words that would sooth his battered soul.

“I do as well.” Because if Nightmare was honest with himself, he’s not dumb enough to not see a good thing, “but right now I think you need to sleep Sin.”

Sin is nodding, still looking away from Nightmare, legs stilling and he pressed his heels against the side of the brick work of the compound, “What if Sloan finds out the details?” he snuffs out his cigarette so he can drop his face into his hands miserably, “Do you think she’d be disgusted by me?”

Nightmare sighs softly at those dim, small words, and shakes his head no, “No. I think Sloan would be infuriated by what was done to you.” He tells Sin softly, hand still firm on his lower back, “I’ve felt their souls, they’re good, yes. But there’s a cruelty that lurks beneath. A deep well of darkness, its tightly contained, but there. Sloan would not blame you Sin.”

He shutters under Nightmare’s soft words, and he wonders how long Sin has been suffering with this. How long did he carry this burden and hidden it carefully? How long has Nightmare ignored the obvious truth? 

“It wasn’t your fault Sin. None of it. Not your brother’s death. Not Frisks.” He pauses, knows this is a sensitive subject, and Nightmare doesn’t want to push him into a depressive state, “Not your own rape. You didn’t ask for any of that.”

“It feels like it is.” His voice is small and vulnerable, and Nightmare feels a swell of anger that he’s quick to reel in. Sin doesn’t need his emotions to regulate when he’s struggling with his own. 

“That’s Asgore and Toriel who made you feel like that. They’re both lying old goats.” He sneers, and Nightmare knows should have killed them both when Sin admitted what had been done to him. Admitted the truth to he, Glass and Edge after one too many drinks, and he was sad and hurting. The truth spilling from him like a wound that had been lanced, the infection pouring out of him in bitter, small words while in the safety of Nightmare’s dark world. His small, fragile words telling them what was done to his body after watching his brother turn to dust in his hands, and Frisk dragged off for execution.

Sin shutters under Nightmare’s hand, curling a little more into his short, leather jacket and turtleneck and Nightmare forces himself to calm. In the distant trees, he sees a flash of cyan magic, so similar to his own and Nightmare grins when it put him at ease, “You need to sleep Sin.”

Sin nods into his hands, trembling in fear and memory, and Nightmare wished he had the power to ease his soul. He doesn’t, but Sloan does. 

“Why don’t we go have a shower, and when Sloan is back from her run, we can see if she wants to nap again.” It’s a lightly said offer, nothing forced, and the choice is Sin’s.

He shutters next to Nightmare, and Nightmare finds himself shifting a little closer to Sin’s trembling body, “Can we have breakfast first?” he asks weakly, and Nightmare finds himself nodding.

“Yes, if you would like.” Sin relaxes at his words, suddenly slumping against him and Nightmare’s tentacles wrap around his spine to keep him steady.

“Thanks Nights.” He says weakly, sockets half lidded as his body quivers against Nightmare’s. The soft, hurt feeling cramps his soul again, and Nightmare isn’t sure what to do with it. 

Sloan will be home soon, and she’ll get Sin to feel better, maybe even sleep a little. He frowns to himself, wonders how Sloan had wriggled so well past their defenses, settled herself so neatly in their lives that Nightmare was trusting her with one of his damaged _~~favorite~~_ Crew members.

Nightmare shook his head, he didn’t play favorites, but didn’t deny he was particularity fond of a few of them and Sin was one them. ~~~~

Shoving the feelings aside, Nightmare pulls Sin a little closer to his smaller frame, holding him close while he reeled in his dark aura. Sin didn’t need to deal with that right now, not when he had his own demons to manage.

No, he wouldn’t do that to one of his own, and settled in to wait for the mages to come home.

-

Standing between Edge and Sans, Lilith grins brightly as Felix jogs his way back into the property line and out of the forest. He’s looking bitter and annoyed, more at loosing then anything else, but relents when Lilith gives him an amused grin.

Dark eyes glance to Edge, and Lilith feels a pulse of fondness for the taller monster at her side. He’d done well his first time out with them, kept up with Lilith easily and had a thin sheen of magic sweat over his bones just as she had over her skin.

Lilith glanced to Sans, grinned to herself when she saw him staring not so subtly at Edge as well, staring at his tall body, thick bones, gleaming ivory and strong. She nudges Sans’s shoulder, drawing white eye lights back to her, and Lilith shoots him an amused grin.

Sans could be subtle when he wants to, he was choosing not to.

The sun was just only starting to rise now, the golden rays stretching out along the lawn, and again, Sans and Lilith follow it helplessly back to Edge. He’s standing still and stiff between them, tall and seemingly untouchable even in cloths that were a little big on him.

With a gentle sigh, Lilith knew they were both in trouble. 

He’s watching Felix slowly jog to join the group, standing directly between Felix and Lilith, just in case, looking tense and worried when Felix glares at them. It’s sweet, and it endears Sans all the more to Edge that he was willing to get between two battle mages if it meant keeping Lilith safe.

Unnecessary, but sweet all the same if Sans thought so himself. 

“You cheater.” Felix huffs when he finally makes it home, the last one to do so and for a brief moment, Edge looks offended, his impassive expression darkening at Felix’s words.

Adorable. Sans grins, voice calm and steady before Edge can have the chance to feel at fault here, “I wasn’t cheating,” Sans tells him mildly, rocking back on his heels and grinning at Felix’s disbelieving look, “It was revenge.” He chirped happily, and next to Lilith, Edge relaxes.

Felix stares at Sans, squinting at him as emotions flash over his face before he relaxes and loosens his posture, “Ah shit.” He sighs, and just like that, all the fight drains out of him, “Okay, that was pretty good.” He admits, drawing a grin from Sans and Lilith, but Edge is still tense and confused.

“That was a good game.” He nods suddenly, wiping sweat from his brow, looking more amused then anything else, dropping all of his anger or annoyance in favor of admitting he had fun. Edge doesn’t get it, doesn’t see how they could just move past it so easily, hadn’t had a friend in a long time that could do that.

_~~Don’t think about Undyne.~~ _

Yet, it seems that the battle mages are fine again, if Felix’s grin is anything to go by, “Alright, guess I’ll go start breakfast then.” He sighs, but still gives them an amused look, “Enjoy your shower.” He practically sing songs, as they fall in step with each other, Lilith and Felix in the front, Sans and Edge just behind them.

Edge feels his brow furrow, wiping sweat from his skull as Sans looks up, “Winners get priority over showers and loses start breakfast.”

In front of them the battle mages are bickering good naturedly, any tension from the race long gone as they climb the stairs to the porch and into the kitchen, “I see.” Edge rasps quietly, the thought of a shower a delightful one, but there were always other priorities, other responsibilities, “I should get Red up.” He says quietly, and Sans rolls his eye lights.

“I’ll get your bro up.” Sans offers, making Edge frown down at him. Sans gives him an amused grin, “Dude, I can get your brother up. Go on, battle winners get priority.”

Edge pauses at the door as Lilith pulls it, holding it open for the others with a grin. He hesitates to look down at Sans’s grinning face, the gentle presents, and wonders if it would be okay with his brother. Slowly, Edge nods as he steps into the kitchen, winces at the sound of his sneakers on linoleum, “Thank you Sans. I would appreciate that.”

When Sans grins up at him, Edge feels something he thought long dead in his soul soften, pulse with a fuzzy emotion, “Thank you Sans.” He’s helpless to say again. 

Sans nods at him as the mages step inside as well, and for a brief moment both Sans and Edge were distracted by Lilith reaching up to wipe sweat from her brow; Sans watches enamored with his eye lights reforming briefly into little hearts, and Edge watches with a gentle smile that his brother would surely scold him for before they both shake themselves out.

“Hey,” Felix asks, suddenly reminding them that, they still had company, “Where’d Sloan go?”

They pause at the door, Lilith frowning, “Upstairs. Nights came down just as she finished and said he needed her for something.” Her frown deepens into concern, “Sin hasn’t been feeling well. Maybe that’s something to do with it?”

Felix pauses, biting his lip, “Oh. I hope Sin’s okay.” And fuck if that doesn’t endear Edge to them all, “What was it he likes for breakfast?”

“Pancakes.” Sans is quick to answer, making Edge’s soul throb a little.

Felix nods as he goes to wash his hands, “Alright, I’ll make him some Pancakes.”

Such a simple interaction, such a simple kindness and it means the world to Edge and he knows it’ll mean the world to Sin. It means something that they remembered, remembered things like what Sin liked to eat for breakfast, it meant something that they made it for him when he was feeling low and down on himself.

It meant they cared.

Felix shooed them from the kitchen, and up to shower and for Sans to attempt to rouse Red. Edge can’t help but feel warmed by the mages and Sans.

It was nice that they _cared_.

-

Coming into the infirmary, Sans grins when he sees Red. He’s still curled into a ball, snoring softly into the flat pillow the infirmary had, and it crossed Sans’s mind that they should go get him a better one. One that wasn’t so flat and hard, one that would offer cervical support and a better sleeping experience. Briefly, Sans wonders when he became so domestic, when things like cervical support was a thing he thought about but moved passed it with a shrug. 

Did it really matter when the results were a kick ass night of sleep and feeling _good_ when you wake up? If anyone asked Sans, the answer was nope.

Sans pauses, watches his sharp tooth doppelganger sleep, the same arse who shot soup into Lilith’s face, which was _hilarious_ , and the same warm body that pressed up against Sans almost desperately when he slept.

Red thought he was slick, thought that he and Lili didn’t realize that he was awake and checking on the others before he passed out again. Red was only about as half as slick as he thought he was, but shit if he wasn’t a warm cuddle buddy. Close to Lilith in terms of sheer heat he vented but had one hundred percent more nightmares.

Sans frowns at him, watches Red’s chest rise and fall in a slow, deep rhythm and feels a pang through his chest, all the way down to the core of his soul. It had happened just after Red fell back asleep, after his not so subtle vibe check, making sure the mages weren’t murdering his Crew, when he tucked his skull back under Sans’s.

Sans had been barely dosing himself, arms loose around Red when he made a small, weak noise that drew both his and Lilith’s attention. That warm body, still so weak and sucking back magic like a dying plant in the desert clung to Sans so tightly, so suddenly it had forced the air from his body.

Lilith had gone stiff, half afraid that he’d attack Sans in his sleep, but Sans had it handled. His hands soothing on Red’s spine, voice soft over his skull as he told him in his sleep, he was safe. Nothing was going to hurt him here, Sans’s voice soft as he soothed Red back into a deeper sleep, one Sans hoped was dreamless.

Red snored deeply now, the bitter, angry scowl that was his usual resting bitch face had soothed out to something less angry, nearly peaceful in sleep. Even the glint of his gold tooth seemed softer, the nearly invisible scars washed out to make his face seem smooth and glossy, none of them as deep or painful looking as the three that bisected Edge’s socket.

He seemed younger in his sleep, untroubled by memories or nightmare’s, and even in sleep his sockets are heavy with dark staining from exhaustion. Sans frowns, feels that soft pang again, and almost wants to let Red sleep a little longer. He knows Red needs to eat, needs to replenish the magic he’s lost, but Sans hates to wake him when he needed the rest.

Maybe after breakfast Sans can get him to nap again with him, cuddle up next to Lilith while she plays Mario Party with the kiddos.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts, Sans strolls slowly over to where Red is asleep and keeps a careful grip on his magic. Just in case he needed to short cut away, one could never know for sure how a Fell monster was going to come out of sleep and better to ready in case they came out swinging for the fences. 

“Hey.” Sans says loudly, foot pressed into the leg of the cot to give it a little shake, “Asshole, wake up.”

Red groans, rolls over and presses his face harder into the pillow. Sans frowns, knows he shouldn’t think that’s adorable, and gives the cot a harder shake, “Red, wake up.” He makes a noise like a started cat, burrowing a little more into his cot, and Sans rolls his eye lights, “Felix is starting breakfast.”

The promise of food is always a guarantee to get them up, and Red makes another soft noise into his pillow, “’m up.” He sighed, pushing himself up, rubbing thick sleep from his sockets, “What’s he making?”

Sans shrugged, “Pancakes.”

Nodding, Red rubs at his face, “Lola’s are better.” He sighed into his hands.

It makes Sans grin, “Yeah, the battle mage’s cooking is edible. But it’s not Lola’s.” 

Red makes another low noise, almost a sigh, and he looks up at Sans with tired eye lights, chin still in his hand, “So, why’d they send you to get me?”

Sans gives him a lazy grin and a shrug, “What, you don’t enjoy my sparkling personality.”

Red snorts, “Ain’t nothing sparkle’n about…” Sans frowns when Red’s voice peters out , frowns at how he suddenly straightens up and comes out of sleep so thoroughly Sans can see his eye lights sharpen with vicious awareness, like he’s gearing up for a fight.

Red shouldn’t be fighting right now, Sans thinks distantly, he’s still hurt and needs to recover before he feels a chill run down his spine. There’s nothing in the room that should make Red want to fight, or his voice go low so that only Sans can hear him say, “Get behind me.”

“What?” is the stupidest fucking thing Sans could have said, feels a swell of magic that Red can’t spare and magic spark at his fingers as Sans feels the weight of someone staring between his shoulders.

“Get the fuck behind me.” Red says again, dropping all emotion just like Lilith does just before she gets into a fight with someone. Red’s expression goes cold and hard, and suddenly the scars on his face seem deeper somehow. Like someone pressed pain and darkness into them just to show off how he had been damaged.

Red’s staring at something just over his shoulder, and gut-wrenching nostalgia washes over Sans, memories of another place and another time. Of a time when it had been Lilith telling him to get behind her, staring at something cruel and evil just behind him.

Sans thought he learned that lesson already, learned it well when the face of a melting, dead child grinned back at him, but this was Sans’s home and he refused to be afraid. He turns slowly, drawing a sharp hiss from Red as he scrambles out of the cot, and Sans looks over at Ripper.

This version of himself is sitting up for the first time in nearly two and a half weeks, blinking wearily at Sans, looking a little lost. One socket is half lidded and barely open, while the other is open wide, and Sans shivers at the lack of any eye light. Ripper’s sockets are devoid of all light, as dark as the void itself, the corrupted Judge and thick black tar pours down his cheeks.

Unlike the others, who had all looked vulnerable and sick in their white t shirts and baggy shorts, Ripper looks nothing of the sort. Lost and confused, sure, but Sans feels the volatile energy from his one, energy that even Crow didn’t have.

Sans does as he’s told, taking a step back the same time Red pulls himself from the cot, a little shaky on his feet as he steps between Ripper and Sans. Sans is quick to grab at his elbow, voice low as he hissed, “Lola will be pissed if you break him when she spent so much time putting him back together.”

Red nods, nudging Sans behind him a little more, voice rough when he calls out, casual as ever, as if they weren’t in an infirmary, “Heya Rips. How ya feeling?”

Tired, confused sockets lift to Red, and the flat line of Rippers mouth pulls into a confused frown, “Red?”

“Yep.” Red gives him a little nod, nudging Sans a little further back, “You do’n alright?”

Ripper blinks at him slowly, brow furrowing as he works his tongue in his mouth, “Where’s the boss?”

Red shrugged, “Around.” It’s lazy and nonchalant as they take another careful step towards the door, “Lemme go find him. Tell him your awake.”

Ripper blinks at him, sockets narrowing, “Who’s that?” his voice is low and rough.

“New guy.” Red answers automatically, slowly edging towards the door.

Ripper’s head tilts, that tired, confused glare directed at Sans, and it sends a shiver down his spine, “Seems soft.”

Sans can’t help it, the snort that bubbled up from his chest is automatic, and in all honestly, it’s not since Sans met Lilith had someone thought he was a _soft, little_ anything.

Ripper blinks at him, slow like a big cat about to pounce before Sans feels the prickle of a Check roll over his bones. Whatever Ripper sees, it makes him slouch back into the cot, “Huh. Not bad. LV 10 eh? Who’d you shank to get that?”

Sans flinches at the careless words and Red’s body going still, “Wait, what?” accusatory eye lights turn to him, but no words come from Red’s mouth.

Sans gives him a helpless little shrug and the weakest finger guns ever, “Surprise.”

Red doesn’t have the time to lob angry questions at Sans, not when Lilith, fresh from the shower strolls calmly into the infirmary, “Love, what’s the hold up?”

They all turn to face her as she freezes at the doorway, brow furrowing when she quietly says, “Oh shit, your awake.”

Ripper’s shoulder hunch up over his acoustic meatus, with a low, threatening growl like a trapped animal suddenly faced with a predator. Crimson magic flashes at Lilith’s eyes, her body suddenly loosening as if readying for an attack, even as her hands go up in surrender, “Ripper.” There’s a warning in her tone, “Easy now.”

Ripper has no intention to do anything easy, pulling the long knife from his inventory with practised ease and tossing it at Lilith with all his might. Ready for an attack, Lilith moves, hand swift as they clap together to catch knife by the blade between her flat hands, and Ripper is horrified that she made it look as easy as if they were playing a game.

Red flinches at the sound of her hand slapping together with an unnerving crack of her magic and Ripper’s magic pops with his nerves.

“Rips, stand down. They’re…part of the crew now.” Red snaps, still shoving Sans behind him, the truth of his LV forgotten in the face of a threat.

Ripper’s head snaps towards Red with fury in his sockets that rolls off him in violent waves, “Liar!” he sneered, “Nightmare would never join with humans.”

Sans can feel the short cut coming long before Red, can feel the confused and distraught intent coming from Ripper before Red even gets a whiff of it. It has Sans pulling Red back against his chest the same time Ripper pushes himself into a short cut, new knife in hand, twisting them so that Red was nearly thrown to the ground and Sans gave Ripper his back.

He braces for pain, knows his HP is a little more stable and can take it when Red couldn’t. Not yet, not when he’s still recovering.

Besides, he thinks blandly, if Ripper kills him, Frisk need to practice her rewind skills.

The pain never comes, but there’s a snap of magic behind him and heat washing over his body. Sans’s breathing hitches over Red as he turns slowly to glance over his shoulder, sockets going wide and eye lights going pale to see Lilith between them.

Both her hands are stable and firm on Rippers’ wrist where she’s caught him, holding him tightly despite the blade he’s put into her upper abdomen. It’s nestled just under her ribs, and the crimson blood blooms like a flower through her shirt. Her breathing catches and bubbles, and Ripper has probably nicked a lung. 

It’s a new shirt, Sans thinks distantly, one that he bought her not all that long ago with a little cartoon bunny saying ‘I’m punny.’ 

He hears Red’s breathing hitch as Sans slowly relaxes, reminds himself that Lilith has the healing trait, and this won’t kill her. Annoy her maybe, but not kill her.

Red doesn’t know that, “Oh no.” his voice is small and worried, and he’s so stiff in Sans’s arms, he’s worried Red will break something.

“She’s okay.” Sans whispers back, afraid to move and draw Ripper’s attention back to them. He holds Red a little tighter, feels heat creep up his throat when sharp fingers latch desperately to Sans’s hands, “She’s got a healing trait, this won’t kill her.” 

Now isn’t the time to be thinking how nice it is to have Red’s hands holding his, it’s out of sheer desperation and fear, and Sans needs to get his head in the game. His girl has a knife in her gut, and Sans needs to remind himself that she’s durable, not unbreakable.

They watch in horror as Ripper grunts, trying to pull the knife from Lilith’s abdomen, annoyed that she doesn’t budge despite the dark red blood that pours from her midsection. It’s started to pool at her bare feet, comes faster the harder Ripper struggles, “Give me back my fucking knife.”

Lilith’s head tilts to the side coolly, eyes shimmering crimson when her monotone voice coldly tells him, “It’s in me. It’s my knife now.” 

Ripper snarls, tries to let go of the knife, tries to wrench himself free but Lilith’s hands are firm on his wrist, and she doesn’t budge. Red stares from under Sans with narrowed sockets even as horror drowns his soul; the mages are going to kick them out now for sure.

Heh, at least it wasn’t _his_ fault that the mages realize they’re a bunch of vicious fucks who don’t deserve their kindness. It’s a refreshing change for once. _~~And he’s not disappointed. He’s not. Refuses to be. It’s not like he actually liked it here or something. It wasn’t like Lilith and Sans were fucking nice to him.~~_

Red pushes it away as hard as he can, forgets about the what ifs and watches in silent horror as Ripper glares at Lilith, mouth curling into a snarl. Sans hisses against his skull, and they both can feel the gathering magic of an attack before the white bones spear through Lilith’s chest, piercing through to the other side.

Three of them tear through her flesh and bones, making her grunt, blood coming to her lips and Sans wince as memories of the underground try to bubble to the surface of his mind.

Sans pushes them down viciously, will deal with the nightmares later when Lilith loosens her grip only enough for Ripper to twist his way free, stumbling back and away from the mage.

Lilith folds in on herself with another groan, knees giving out as blood pools and puddles under her, and Ripper releases his magic. He collapses under the strain of using it before he was ready or fully healed, and the bones disappear. He stumbles, falling back, arms going around his middle when his spine throbs in agony, and it feels like fire is burning through his bones.

Ripper sees black spots in his vision and his limbs go tingly-numb, like his limbs had ‘fallen asleep’ as Sans straightens and shoves Red behind him, desperate to keep someone safe, “Stay behind me.” He hisses quietly, making Red’s brow furrow as they stand behind Lilith.

No one besides Edge has ever tried to protect Red before, it’s a novel feeling, _~~that he likes and it fills him with something warm,~~_ as Lilith pushes herself to her feet, rolling her shoulders back like she’s gearing up for a fight. She shouldn’t be anywhere near ready to stand, never mind fight, but Red can see what Sans was talking about as green healing magic ripples over her middle.

The magic works quickly with the aid of adrenaline, closes the wounds torn into her body, stems the bleeding, and that more then anything sets Red at ease. It lessens his anxiety _~~that his,~~_ that the mage he liked wasn’t going to die. There was no way in hell they’d let the Crew stay now, but at least Lilith would live.

Lilith stands like a wall between Ripper at her front and Sans and Red at her back, something solid that Ripper can’t break through. Her face impassive and cold despite the blood that she stands in and stains her shirt, like a thing of death and fury. 

Ripper’s spine throbs in pain and his soul pulses in panic so strong that it makes him nauseous. Red was a traitor, there’s no way Nightmare would betray them like this. No way that Nightmare would trust humans. What happened to the others? Were they alright? How long had he been out? 

These are things he wants to ask, but only a wordless snarl makes it past his clenched teeth. He refuses to give in to these fuckers, refuses to bend to them and when Nightmare gets here, _he’ll_ deal with the three of them.

Lilith takes a calming breath as her hands go up as if to sooth Ripper, sounding more annoyed then anything else as the gaping holes in her body knit shut. Her face is cold, but there are little flashes of worry that are there and gone in brief blinks, and her words are even, “Ripper, that wasn’t nice.”

His breathing hitches as pain and emotion swell, he isn’t sure which to comprehend first, her gull or the fact she knows his name and all he can do is stare at her. That wasn’t nice? That’s all she’s got after he stabbed her? Even Red at her back cocks a brow at that, as if he can’t believe she just said those words.

“But I need you too calm down. You’re very hurt, and I don’t want you to back track in your progress.” Her words are calm and smooth, and she takes a half step towards him. 

Ripper gives her the flattest look he could manage while fire burns through his spine and he’s anything but calm. Obscenities are at the tip of his tongue; he wants to tell her to fuck off but panic pulses through his soul and ties his tongue. Backed into a corner and not having any other options, Ripper does the only thing he can, and runs.

He manages to scramble to his shaky feet and bolts from the room as quickly as he can even as agony makes him want to vomit. His spine protests viciously at his movement, screaming at him to sit down and his head spins. Sitting down sounds like a wonderful idea, but panic drives him forward. 

Lilith makes a sharp noise as he runs, body tensing as he suddenly bolts through the door, “Don’t run!”

Her voice fades out as Ripper tries to run, his bones protesting, throbbing in agony and scream at him to stop.

Lilith’s eyes widen as Rippers shoots from the room, momentarily stunned that he could move that well at all, staring at the blank space he left behind, “Oh fuck, he’s running.” The coldness in her tone melts into disbelief and concern. 

Stunned crimson eyes shift to Sans and Red, Lilith’s hands are up as if to ask _what the hell just happened, “_ We have to catch him before he hurts himself.”

They all stare at each other for a brief moment, all uncertain what to do before they all turn and bolt for the door as well. They’re mere seconds behind Ripper, and if they’re quick they can catch him before he hurts himself.

Red is right at Sans’s heels, feels something stirring in his soul that these two were _worried_ about Ripper. Worried about one of his people, and were worried about Red himself. He tries not to think how Sans almost took the blow for him, the idiot, LV or not that would have killed him, and that Lilith took it in both their stead.

He tires not to think how nice it was to have Sans’s arms around him, warm and safe, determined to protect him, even if Red didn’t need it.

He tries not to feel anything about that, tries not to feel sorrow that the mages were going to kick them out, tires not to feel jealous that his brother got to spend more time with the battle mage and the Judge then he did.

Red tries not to feel anything at all as they scramble after Ripper, doesn’t feel the disappointment that this warmth was about to be ripped from them. 

The three of them are quick, healthier then Ripper was, and they come through the door of the infirmary just in time to see him trip over his own two feet in a pained desperation to get away, falling down the stairs.

The three of them freeze at the top of the stairs, listen to the painful gasps and the sound of bones slapping against wood, until Ripper lands in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. 

Lilith hisses in empathetic pain, eyes flashing a darker red, ignoring the deep red that stains the front of her shirt or the holes torn into it as she rushes down the stair, “Oh fuck, Sans go get Lola.”

Sans is gone, leaving only Red as Lilith’s back up, and he’s determined to keep her safe until her weird Judge came back. They watch as Ripper pushes himself up, crab walked backwards away from them as they both come to the landing, hissing and spitting like an angry cat as Lilith came up on him, hands up as she tries to put him ease.

“Easy Ripper, you’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.” Lilith’s voice is smooth and cool, hands up, Red at her heels, slinking in her shadow, ready to attack if Ripper dared to attack the mage again.

Red’s eye lights glance to Lilith in her blood-stained shirt, fresh from the shower and soaked in her own blood, and still she approached slowly, hands up like she’s handling a wounded animal. Red’s sockets narrow, glowering at Ripper as he continued to back away, wincing as his spine screamed in agony.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Ripper hissed, feeling weak and tired, slowly backing away from the approaching mage and the traitor.

The sound of steps thundering up the stairs make Ripper flinch, make him back away as Lola came to the top of the stairs that lead to the first floor, Sans and Glass at her back. Lola’s eyes flash bright green and go wide, mouth open when her eyes fall to Lilith’s bloodied chest, “Lilith!” she gasps in horror.

Behind her, Sans’s lazy expression hasn’t changed in the least bit, his white eye lights sought Lilith out immediately, before they flicked to Red and his grin widened in relief.

Lilith waves her sister off, despite Glass’s shocked sockets and his eye lights dim away to nothingness. His hands tremble at the sight of that much blood, going slack at Lola’s back.

“I’m fine.” Lilith calls to her sister, hesitating near Ripper as he continues to back away.

Lola immediately turns to Ripper, face softening as she eases forward, “Ripper, you need to go back to bed.”

“Stay the fuck away.” He hissed, angry and vicious, “Where the fuck is Nightmare?”

The girls take another step forward, hands up, and Lola’s voice is soft, “Ripper, lets go back to bed. It’s okay.”

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Ripper hissed, backing near a door that suddenly swings open, and Nightmare’s angry face crowds the opening he’s just created.

“The fuck are you all doing!” he hissed angrily, eye light narrowed into a vicious slit, mouth pulled into an angry snarl, shadowy teeth parted and back lit by cyan magic. His tentacles thrash viciously and sharp at his back, the magic that makes up his mandible splitting with his fury to open his mouth wider, “I swear to the stars, if you wake Sin, I’m going to…”

He pauses, voice petering out as he takes in everyone’s faces, takes in the fact that Lilith is covered in blood, and that Ripper is at his feet, skull tipping helplessly back at him. Nightmare’s sharp teeth smoothing out, his tentacles soften to blunted ends and his jaw knits back together, “Ripper?”

Ripper scrambles to his feet, gasping in pain as agony sets fire to his bones and he clings to Nightmare, “Boss! Boss, something’s going on, why are we with humans? What’s going on? What’s happening?” 

Nightmare’s arms go around Ripper tightly, pulling him against his chest, pinning his arms to his side. An azure eye light glances to Lilith and the deep red blood that spread helplessly across her shirt, and to Lola, her hands up and trying to ease him.

He glances down to Ripper, panicking in his arms and Sloan hesitant at his back, laying in bed with Sin, halfway up as she glared into the hallway, confused and Nightmare needs to make a choice. He weighs all of this in an instant, looks at all of his options and sighs. 

Sin needs to sleep, Ripper needs to rest and they were lucky he stabbed Lilith and she was stubborn enough not to die.

Nightmare makes a choice, and unleashes the full fury of his power, the darkness and negativity in his soul, directed at Ripper. His dark aura goes wide, hopelessness filling the tight space around him like a shock wave that makes everyone in the hallway freeze. Darkness pierces their souls and drowns them in depression. 

Ripper goes still in Nightmare’s arms, going ramrod stiff before he goes limp and boneless as darkness overtakes him. Ripper is a threat right now, one that Nightmare will be the one to manage, he won’t allow Ripper to cause further harm to their new allies, even if Nightmare hates what he can do. Even if Nightmare hates himself and what he’s become in order to no loner be a victim.

His power makes Ripper feel drained instantly, sockets going half mast as exhaustion and sadness fill him, “Boss?” 

Nightmare doesn’t flinch despite how his soul trembles with guilt, he hates doing this to one of his own, “Go to sleep Ripper.” He tells him firmly, letting lose another hard, brutal burst of hopelessness to overwhelm and break down, and tears spill from Rippers sockets.

His voice is weak and soft, “Nightmare?” before exhaustion and feelings overwhelm him, and he passes out.

Ripper goes weak and boneless, and with the utmost care he lifts Ripper’s legs up to cradle him in his arms. Around them the others have done stone still; Lilith’s face has gone cold and dark, Sans is shaking hard enough his bones are rattling and Red’s eye lights have disappeared.

Lola’s eyes have filled with tears as dark, negative emotions swirl around the room, and she’s grabbed onto Glass’s wrist to anchor herself. At her back, Glass’s sockets have gone empty, his face devoid of emotion as he shakes next to her.

Inwardly, Nightmare curses, he hadn’t meant to let it loose so far and affect the others, “My apologise.” He tells them roughly, and what a way to start a day, reeling in his deep, dark energy. 

Red’s legs give out from his spot behind Lilith, trembling as he curls in on himself, arms going around his middle as he mutters only loud enough to be heard, _I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to leave._

It’s enough to pull Lilith from whatever deep, dark whole that Nightmare accidently pushed her down. She takes a deep breath through her nose, closes her eyes, and when they open they are far clearer. A little more warmth has come to her face, and Nightmare is impressed how quickly she was able to pull herself back together.

She goes to her knees next to Red, hand painfully soft on his shoulders and Lilith nearly folds around him like a suit of armor. She pulls him in to her side, arms tight around him when she whispers back, “You’re not going any where. You’re safe. You’re okay.” The words _your ours_ nearly leave her lips but she manages to keep it back.

Sans is the next to recover, even if his sockets are still empty and brimming with tears, he moves past Lola to Lilith and Red. Like a moth being drawn to the flame, he goes to them, dropping on Red’s other side to sandwich him in between them.

Sans words gently echo Lilith’s, even if they’re a little shaky, “You’re okay dude, we got you. You’re not going any where, promise.” He doesn’t even flinch at the promise, the quiet vow, “You’re okay Red. Just take a breath.” And Sans hands are on him, rubbing at his spine, clinging to where he could reach, pressing Red harder into Lilith to pin him between them.

Red trembles but doesn’t fight it, shaky hands cling back as they walk him through catching his breath. They help him slow it down to something manageable, their voices soothing his racing soul and fight back the hopelessness that Nightmare accidently unleashed on them.

They held him like they cared, and Red was helpless to press into their touch, desperate for something. For something warm and real, and something that wouldn’t hurt him. In that moment, he needed to mean something to them, clung to the warmth they were offering, and didn’t give a shit about reputation as he huddled between them.

They were like a suit of armor, two pieces of a puzzle that locked perfectly together and somehow, he fit there just right with them. He wonders what that meant, distantly, wondered how Edge could fit so well with them as well.

Right now, while Red broke apart under Nightmare’s power, they held him steady.

Lola recovers next, giving herself a shake and pushes back her hurt. She swallows once, twice, and takes a breath, hand still firm on Glass’s arm, “Sans, Lilith, take Red back to your room. Keep him with you today.”

Sans doesn’t look up at her, focused solely on Red and ensuring he was fine, but Lilith looks up and nods weakly. They’re desperate to touch each other, cling to Red as readily as they cling to each other, neither hesitate to hang onto each other around Red, keeping Red well protected. 

Lilith takes a breath, steadies herself before she’s ready to get them too move. Encourages them to their feet, and both Sans and Red are shaky as they stand. Lilith holds them upright, still pressing Red into her side, his body trembling as hopelessness swells in his soul, and Sans presses into Red’s other side.

Slowly, as if afraid one of them would break, Lilith guides them back to their room, keeping both Red and Sans pulled protectively close to her. Red took the primary place of the one who needed the most, but Sans pressed in tight enough to make it a non-issue. All that mattered was holding them both, and getting away from that heavy, oppressive aura.

Nightmare doesn’t blame Lilith when she retreats, this wasn’t a battle and she wasn’t ready for his attack. He’s grateful that she didn’t leave Red alone to suffer on his own, physically pulling him along, protecting him with Sans, out of the situation and to the safety of her room.

Nightmare watches her go, has intentions to take Ripper back to the infirmary when he feels a soft, slim hand at his shoulder. Tired sockets lift to Sloan’s face, soft with concern, her grip tight despite her anxious expression, “Come on Nights. Bring him to bed.” and Nightmare is helpless to that request.

He feels his knees go weak with relief. Ripper was the first he found, the closest thing to a friend he had and the thought of him being alone in the infirmary after this doesn’t sit well with him. Yet, the thought of leaving Sin and Sloan makes him feel sick.

It was so much easier not to care, and he was helpless under her kindness.

He follows her back into her room, her soft, safe room where Sin was lightly sleeping, knowing he, his second in command and his damaged _~~favorite~~_ where safe.

Lola follows him inside, wiping tears from her eyes, centering herself, leaving Glass cracked on the steps, triaging who needed her first.

Glass’s knees go weak, and he slowly crumples to the step and waits. His arms go around his middle, fighting back the memories of home and the death of his brother.

-

Heaving a sigh, Lola comes out of Lilith’s room, tired and frowning, dark eyes falling to Glass’s back.

Ripper hadn’t been the only one who had been hit by that wave of sheer darkness, had hopelessness wash over him, and all of them in the proximity of that wave suffered for it. Lilith had Sans at least, had thankfully taken Red with them and Nightmare had retreated into the safety of Sloan’s room with Ripper.

Red had Sans and Lilith, Ripper had Nightmare, who has Sloan and Sin, but who does Glass have, she wonders with a frown.

With a soft sigh, Lola crosses to the landing, sitting next to Glass. She softens when she sees him curled into himself, trembling hard in his heavy bomber, “Are the others okay?” his voice if flat and rough, and Lola shifts over so she’s a tight line against his body.

His sockets are still dark with distress, his face crumpled with hurt, and all Lola can do is nod, “Yeah, they’re going to be okay.”

Glass nods, his arms wrapping around his rib cage a little tighter, his sharp teeth clenched tight, his gold fangs flashing in the light, “Your sis alright?”

Lola shifts a little closer, Glass is so cold all the time, it makes Lola worried and she’s happy to be a warm line against his side, “She’s okay. A bit of blood loss won’t take her out, Fate knows that Undyne and Sans both tried underground.” That draws the carefully blank look to her, and Lola offers him a grin, “She’s okay. Sans and Red are a little raw after…” she pauses, not sure what to call what Nightmare did, “that. Edge brought up breakfast, and they’re watching a movie on Sans’s laptop. She’ll be fine in a little while.”

Glass nods, turning his attention back to the stairs, and Lola doesn’t voice that when she had gone to check on them, they had been curled together watching a movie on Lilith’s and Sans’s bed. They seemed to need the contact after what Nightmare had done accidently, and Lilith’s death grip on Red and Sans wasn’t questioned, nor was Edge’s grip on her.

Nor was the fact that Red was still pressed between Lilith and Sans, but at least his trembling stopped, and he looked a little better. 

Curious, sure, but Lola wasn’t an idiot. She saw the way both Sans and Lilith looked at Edge, and after the soup debacle, Red. 

Amusement, fondness, they _liked_ the brothers from Underfell, liked them when they saw them at their worse. The same could be said for Felix and Sloan, growing fond of the dark monsters in their home. 

Lola looks up at Glass, softening a little as he speaks, voice a little softer, “I was hoping Rippers was’n gonna wake up like that.” He gives a little shrug, and Lola nods, reaching for his big, clawed hand.

He takes it without realizing it, soft next to Lola, she a warm line next to his body, “He okay?”

Lola frowns at the stairs, but won’t lie to him, “I don’t know Glass. He’s hurt, and that tumble down the stairs didn’t help any. He’s going to need more healing, and he’ll need to walk with a cane for a while.”

“But he’ll still walk?” Glass’s voice is delicate and hesitant, and Lola nods.

“Yeah, he’s going to walk a little better. I think he only moved as well as he did because he woke up afraid.” She explained gently, “He needs to be careful.”

Glass nods, still hunched down in his coat, “I’ll make sure he does.”

Giving him a grin, Lola nods, “Thanks. He’s okay now.” She reassures, drawing a softer look back to her, “Sloan’s got him sleeping with Sin. Nightmare and she are watching over them.”

It seams to help Glass relax, eye lights coming back slowly as he slumps against the banister now that he knows his own are safe, and he looks so tired, “Thanks.” His words are weak and slur, but he doesn’t let go of Lola’s hand.

Nodding, Lola holds his hand tightly, “You’re welcome Glass.” And quietly promises that she’ll be the one to keep Glass safe.


	15. Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sin's good day takes a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all staying safe and enjoying yourselves. 
> 
> As promised, here is the next chapter, and as a reminder, this is where things are going to get heavy for a while. The next few chapters are going to get a little darker, and what happens here will impact how these characters react for the rest of the story. As always please read the warnings and the tags, and take care of yourselves. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy :) 
> 
> WARNING: Kidnapping, implied rape/non-con elements, implied torture, discussion of suicide/suicidal thoughts, betrayal, discussion of breaking someone/mind break.
> 
> Let me know if I've missed anything.

Three and a half days after Ripper woke the fuck up and shanked Lilith like an asshole, both the Den of mages and the Crew found their inner chill again and calmed the fuck down.

Frankly, that was how Sin preferred it, he _liked_ it here in the mage’s world, liked the mages and liked it best when they were all chill about it. Rolling dim yellow eye lights, Sin puffs on his cigarette; figures it would be Rips that would fuck it up for a bit.

And fuck it up he did, asshole.

It took Nightmare a good three days to talk Ripper down from ‘finishing the job’, and that yes, the mages were allies and no, he can’t kill them. Somewhere in those three days Nightmare explained about the deal they had struck, Sloan explained that Ripper hadn’t intended on betraying them, and his attack was blind panic and that saved his fucking life.

Had his intentions been anything other then sheer stupid fear, they’d be sweeping his dust off the floor along with Lilith’s blood when she had to scrub the infirmary clean.

Of course, it didn’t end there, stars forbit that, and Sin isn’t bitter about the whole disruption to his newly found peace. No, no. Red and Sans spiralled into such a depressed state that Sin was beginning to worry about them, and Lilith was no where near as okay she liked to pretend she was.

That, naturally, had everyone else on edge and anxious, mainly Felix and Edge, hoovering around the three of them after they were hit with the secondary after shocks from Nightmare’s aura. It had taken the three of them the last three days to regroup and pull themselves out of whatever dark whole they fell into after having a taste of Nightmare’s power. It was only that morning that Sans made a pun that made Red laugh, and Lilith actually smiled.

Lola seemed to bounce back quicker from the aftershocks and although Sin couldn’t say why, she’s been sticking close to Glass after that whole shit show went down.

Then of course, because Ripper couldn’t leave well enough alone, causally mentioned that morning at breakfast that Sans had LV. That in of itself was shocking to say the least, but as it turned out, not even just a little.

Oh fuck no, this asshole has LV 10. This, much to Ripper’s amusement, only lead to another round of chaos and unnecessary posturing. Sin rolls his eye lights, wonders where Glass and Nightmare got off on being so scandalized by it? Wasn’t like they didn’t have LV either. 

Sin shakes the morning vibes off, leaves it all behind in the afternoon sun, and think it would be best to let sleeping dog lie for now, and deal with Sans’s LV when they got back. Why did they care, Sin had no fucking idea. Hell, his own LV was sitting pretty at 13, so whatever.

In amongst the chaos, while fucking Red told Glass to back the fuck off of Sans, and Ripper laughing and Sugar looking like he was going to cry, Sloan got a phone call from the Mayor of Old Town asking her to come and reapply the protection charms at their boarder.

As far as excuses to run out on a stupid, unnecessary fight, that seemed like a good one. Too bad Sloan had stuck around to help with damage control before her unintended hike to the other end of their territory.

Sin had tagged along, feeling a little cabin feverish and _needing_ to split for a while, and Nightmare had come, just because. Apparently.

It’s not like he was fond of the mage, stars no. Couldn’t be that the all mighty Nightmare caught a feeling maybe.

It wasn’t like Sin was being sarcastic about it either. 

Following along behind Sloan and Nightmare, Sin doesn’t bother to pretend to even pay attention to what they’re talking about. Nah, let them nerd out over spells and charms and bull shit, Sin was just glad to get a change of scenery, even if it was boring as hell. It was peaceful out here, after the nonsense of the morning, and Sin was looking forward to the return of their peaceful coexistence.

And Ripper needed to get on board, or Sin was going to yeet him right back to his own fucking universe. 

Sin refocuses, watches Sloan with a growing softness in his soul, and he relaxed. Sloan was here to reapply protection charms to a bridge at the edge of their territory, between two warring towns. Hollindale was a shitty, racists, antimonster town that dared to exist near Old Town, just to be dicks, Sin was sure.

From what Sloan had said there were a lot of assassination attempts when the monsters first surfaced, usually on Sans the poor fucker, that came from Hollindale. The mages had done the only logically thing when faced with violent attacks on one of their own and closed the boarder with a powerful spell. One that read intent, your inner most secrets and desires, rooting out any who dare do harm.

It was, apparently, a brutally efficient spell. One that left anyone dumb enough to try to cross the bridge and into mage territory with hate in their heart, looking to do harm, with a head ache so bad it caused nose bleeds and the victim wishing they would die.

That suited Sin just fine, but he thoughts the mages were being merciful.

Fuck, they let them live, so they were clearly better people then he was.

Puffing on his cigarette again, he briefly thinks back to Sans, the slick motherfucker that he was. The Judge. The LV 10 Judge with the battle mage mate.

A grin curls at Sin’s mouth, deeply amused once the shock had warned off. So, Sans wasn’t Lilith’s ‘ _soft little boyfriend_ ’ like they all thought he was, but rather tough motherfucker with LV, who’da thunk it? Sin _still_ didn’t get the whole upheaval about it, they all had it, right?

They didn’t ask how he got it, even _they_ did have some fucking class and knew when to leave things well enough alone. They all knew trauma when they saw it, just look at their Crew and somethings were just better left unsaid.

Besides, Red’s glare was more then enough of a promise to do harm if one of them brough it up to simply hurt Sans and that said nothing about Lilith or Edge. Interesting little tidbit that, and one for Sin to mull over later. 

Sin glances with a grin to Nightmare and Sloan, his soul softening as Sloan talks Nightmare though what she’s doing, power humming trough her willowy body, as pretty as a rainbow with the power of lightning.

Pretty, dangerous mage and Sin was delighted that she liked him too.

A novel concept.

Grinning at them, watching Nightmare’s delighted grin and bright eye light, Sin softens and for a moment is decidedly happy.

Yeah, happy, despite all the chaos of the last three days. Happy, and he hadn’t felt happy in a long time, but that’s was it was. The mages made him feel good here, made him feel good about himself, like he mattered. Like the others mattered, like things would be okay.

Like that mage’s could force the universe to bend to their wills, and shit, maybe everything would be okay.

Grinning, Sin thought maybe he could just be happy.

-

Looking through the veil, Gaster frowns at Sin as he wanders aimlessly around the road near the bridge. Bone white hands clasp tightly in front of his distorted body, worry burning through him as he watched this tall, slim version of his son.

The monsters from Nightmare’s crew made Gaster sad, made him sad to see them so very hurt and damaged. Broken and betrayed time and again, torn apart and left for dead.

Sin looked around, unaware that Gaster watched him with mounting concern, seeing that young, hopeful face made something within him pulse with unease, like he’s expecting the worse. Still, Gaster’s glad to see Sin look _happy_ , so delighted to see him healthier, to see his off-white bones start to go glossy and strong.

He was so happy to see Sin, a version of Sans, a hurt version of his son, doing so well under the mage’s careful handling. He and Nightmare both, seemed so happy when Sloan was around, melting and softening by her mere presents. 

Gaster was so delighted that Sloan had taken a shine to Sin, they were a good fit and she’d look out for him, had looked out for him. Held him when nightmares bothered him, when _It_ toyed with his emotions from the void, as weak as she was. When she dragged memories from his past out in his dreams just to laugh when he cried softly in his bed alone, when it forced Sin to relive the horrors of his world. 

_It_ made Gaster nervous, even now. Even when Nightmare and his Crew made it by some weird twist of Fate herself to the mage’s careful care, It hadn’t given up. Not really. Still dug her way in as much as she could, like vines pressing into the cracks in a wall to tare at them, digging her way into those weak point wherever she could latch onto.

Sans was too well protected, too many protection spells and charms layered over him, into his clothing, and even into his bones. Lilith’s ambient magic was a powerful thing, leeching into his bones as a secondary protection, putting him far out of her reach even when he was the target of her true anger.

No, the Crew maybe safer, but they weren’t safest. Not yet. It could still stretch its vicious tendrils to cause hurt, to damage in anyway It could. Sin was particularly vulnerable, his psyche still raw from his own world, his hurt still too near the surface despite how well he could hide his agony.

The last of Nightmare’s Crew, the youngest of the Sanses, and the one It liked to play with the most.

Gaster didn’t dare say It’s name, no, too dangerous to say it and draw It here when Sloan, Nightmare and Sin were far from the safety of the compound and the extra protection it offered. The building was charmed to be ready for a war, designed to keep its inhabitants safe from attack but totally useless with them far from home.

It makes Gaster worry, afraid for them, and he follows them closely like he does when Ryder and Papyrus make their way across territories for meetings. Gaster trusts the large mage with his youngest son, of course he does, and Papyrus chose well in a mate, but It kept watch too.

Never able to touch either of his boys, not with the mage’s near by and the protection they carefully layered into each of them.

Magic that hadn’t been layered into the Crew yet.

“Awww,” The mocking voice behind him makes Gaster’s teeth clench, and his hands ball into fists and he refuses to turn to scowl at It, “You think you can protect them? You couldn’t even save yourself; how do you think you’ll save them?”

Gaster refuses to respond, refuses to be drawn into another vicious argument for her amusement.

The thing behind him sighs, deep and put upon like It actually has feelings, “I’ll break them.” And he can hear the smile in her voice, “Like I broke your son.”

“You did not break Sans.” He sneers, because he can’t help himself, not when it comes to his sons, “You gave permission to a cruel monster to be as nasty as she pleased. You made Oliva feel like she could, and _she_ was the one who raped Sans, not you. You are nothing but a slimy little cretin who lost.”

There’s a satisfying pause behind him before there’s flash of hot rage at his back and It screams wordlessly like a child at his back. Gaster straightens up, refuses to give It his time, despite her cruel words, “I’ll break him, all of them. They don’t fucking deserve their happy ending; I’ll make them all suffer. I’ll make them all break.” 

Gaster isn’t impressed and it’s not the first time he’s heard those words, “I was also the one who pulled Lilith out of the void, so you lost twice.” He reminds her mildly, “And once the mages realize it’s you who’s torturing their new friends, they’ll layer on the magic so thick that you’ll never touch them again.”

Gaster is sure of it, believes in the mages so deeply, counted on their abilities so thoroughly, that he doesn’t doubt them. Perhaps if he can gather enough magic, pull at his determination a little harder, he could warn them. Somehow.

He had spoken to Sans once, mere moments after the barrier broke and Gaster had been able to draw in that ambient magic into his form, was able to reach out to his son and reassure him that all would be well. Perhaps…perhaps Gaster could find a way to do it again, warn Sans about the looming threat.

Chara hissed at him, the face of a dead, melting child in his peripheral vision. Gaster doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away or even show this creature fear. No, instead he holds steady, firm despite the sharpened teeth and tar like magic that oozes from her eyes.

She can’t hurt Gaster, not really although she tries.

She likes to remind him of all the things she’s done to Sans mostly, tell him how Sans used to cry when she broken him, when she tortured him. It was all Chara could do to him, but Gaster could see how happy his son was now. Knew that he was far from Chara’s reach, safe in his new life with Lilith.

“You’ve no idea where they come from.” Chara sounds delighted, melting eyes glancing to Sin as he smokes, just a little way away from Nightmare and Slone and she grins, “No idea Gaster. The things I’ve done to Sans?” she laughs now, sounding like the noise was coming from a dirty puddle, “Nothing compared to what their own worlds did to them.”

She glances past him, past the void and the veil, into the shimmering light of beyond, where Sloan and Nightmare and Sin where happy and grins, “Especially his world.” She glances up at him, “I can’t touch Sans, fine. I’ll break another version of him.”

Gaster turns with a frown as she retreats into the blackness of the void, of the place between worlds and feels his shattered soul pulse with worry. No, something was wrong, something more then just Chara spewing nonsense and lies. No, she was far too confident, far too sure of herself.

Glancing to the world he can only watch through snippets of shafts of light, to Sin and Nightmare, who wore his son’s face, used his smile to hide their own conflicts and hurt, and worries. His sockets go to Sin, too young a monster to hide such deep wounds, and worries.

Gaster can still feel the trail that Chara has left behind, and if he’s quick, he can find out what she’s gotten into before the trail runs cold. He melts himself, more liquid then a body, he allows himself to dissolve, his non-existent bones singing in agony as he silently gives chase.

Behind him is a world of sunshine and happiness, a world that Gaster wants to safeguard from an evil little creature who takes pleasure in others pain.

Whatever Chara has planned, Gaster needs to keep tabs on her, just in case she has found a way to extend her reach just beyond nightmares and making them feel sad. Gaster doesn’t trust her, not in the least, not after she proved her power when she ripped into Nightmare’s Crew and left them all for dead.

-

Crushing a butt under his boot, Sin turns at Sloan’s delighted voice as she declares she’s all done, that the careful layers of magic were pressed into the bridge and the area, bending the world to her will. She protects this happy little town without even being here, his powerful, beautiful mage.

Sin turns, grinning with his hand stuffed into his pockets, sees her thrilled smile beaming down at Nightmare, tucking a curly lock of hair behind her ear. Fuck, she’s adorable, and a light-yellow blush sears his face. She looks so pretty in her silky blue sun dress, thick curly hair bouncing playfully with every step she takes and her smile so bright it shines like the sun.

That overjoyed grin turns to Sin, so bright that it puts him at ease just to see it and he feels a wash of emotion swell in his soul. Affection and fondness soften Sin, and he’s helpless to grin back at her, soft like a fool; Sloan is wonderful person, kind beyond all measure and she liked _him_.

Well, he and Nightmare, and had let Ripper sleep in her bed when it calmed him to be near Nightmare, hadn’t even batted an eye lash. Sweet, lovely, fierce spell caster, and Sin hadn’t felt so soft and warm in his soul since he lost his own first love.

Sin had been sure that he’d never feel this sort of affection again, for anyone, never mind a human, but when Sloan smiles at him, he thinks maybe he could. Maybe he could forget about his Frisk, leave her in the past and maybe just be happy.

That’d be nice, Sin thinks, just to be happy, even if this weren’t permanent.

Nights is always telling him he needs to move on, and fuck, maybe he could.

“Sin.” He refocuses to Sloan’s bright smile and he’s helpless to smile back, “You want to get lunch before we head home? Old Town has a great little diner on the main drag.”

She includes him in things, shows him her world, her safe, warm world. She doesn’t reject him, takes his hand, and leads him places he’s happy to follow. She shows him things he’s never had the chance to experience in his own world, takes him places with Nightmare to include him as well. 

He grins back at her, softer then he’s ever managed, nodding, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

Sloan looks so pleased by his agreement, and he doesn’t doubt for a moment that if either of them wanted to go home, Sloan would take home. “Wonderful.” Her musical voice is soft and happy, her smile bright and real, “They’ve got the best milkshakes.”

She’s taking them for milkshakes, and it only endears Sin to her all the more. Such a fucking cute date.

Her arm goes around Nightmare’s shoulders with a grin, making the shorter monster at his side stiffen then relax at the contact with a pleased sigh, and she reaches for him, “Come on Sin.”

It’s an offering to be included, to be thought of before anyone else, and Sin wonders if this is what Sans feels like with Lilith. Wonders if this was what it was like to be liked, to be cherished?

He’s about to take a step, halfway to moving towards Sloan and Nightmare, to the happiness and light that even Nightmare’s enduring to be next to her, when he hears it. Its like something tearing or ripping, wet and heavy, sending a chill up Sin’s spine.

It sounds too similar to when Nightmare rips into the space time continuum, just before they step through a portal, the cold fingers of magic reaching through his heavy leather coat.

Sin almost dreads turning around, turning to the icy, thick black portal and looks like it _boils_ rather then swirls like Nightmare’s portals do. No, this seems worse, less stable and more volatile, and Sin backs away from it.

“Sin get over here.” Nightmare hisses, reaching for him as Sloan clings to Nightmare’s shoulder, eyes cyan with power, brows furrowed as she stares at the portal with laser focus.

Yep, don’t need to tell Sin twice, and he’s backing away from the portal, blindly reaching out for Nightmare’s hand as he retreats. Nope, there’s something wrong with this portal and nothing good is coming through it, that much Sin is sure.

Something shifts just inside the portal. A slim shadow, stepping forward, and Sin is still so far from Nightmare and Sloan. He freezes with a snarl, magic snapping at his fingers, legs spreading to find better balance as his eye lights snuff out.

At his back, he can feel the dark, volatile magic from Nightmare, doesn’t need to turn to know his tentacles are no longer soft rounded ends, but sharp and pointed and his mouth is doing that creepy thing. The thing where the shadows of his mouth become long and sharp, back lit by bright azure magic, and the slit of light at his jaw bright and ready to slit apart.

Yet, next to Nightmare’s heavy, dark magic, is something bright and full of life, the perfect counter, the light to his dark. Magic that pulses through Sloan, full of wonder like a breath of fresh air, every bit his equal, and Sin takes comfort in having them both at his back.

He grins to himself, wonders vaguely what it would be like to let them both have him on his back, and is quick to shake the thought away.

Bad Sin, later. Think about that later.

“Sin.” Sloan’s voice has a harder edge to it, still musical and sweet, but the kind of voice she would turn on in war, “Fall back sweetie.”

Sin can’t help the grin that crawls up his face, feeling warm when she called him sweetie.

“Get your fucking ass back here Sin.” Nightmare sneers, and that makes Sin grin just as much, because yeah, that’s better. That’s how Nights shows he cares; he’s not leaving Sin to be a lamb to the slaughter.

Sin nods, takes a step back towards them, to the safety of the line, safety in numbers, when a tiny, petite figure stepped through the volatile, vicious portal and Sin freezes. 

Feels his soul throb painfully as unimageable hurt swells, as Frisk, _his Frisk,_ comes through the portal. Not like the children he’d met and come to adore, their cool big brother, no, this was the women who walked in his underground. The women who changed his life, made him think he could be a better man, and the women he fell in love with. The Frisk from his world, short but proud, back straight with a gentle smile.

She’s wearing a soft purple dress with the delta rune embroidered in gold thread across her chest, her long brunet hair swept up into a complicated knot, looking lovelier then Sin can remember. He drops out of his defensive posture, hands uncurling as he releases his magic and emotion chokes him, “Frisk?”

When she smiles at him, he feels his breathing hitch, and emotion swell in his chest, maybe not love but affection. Joy to see _her_ again, the first person he ever loved, truly loved, back when he was nothing, when he wanted nothing but his own pleasure.

Frisk was the only other person beyond Papyrus who saw something more in him.

“Sans.” Her voice is soft, and Sin nearly flinches at the name he no loner goes by, Sans is someone different here. Sans belongs to someone else here, a vicious battle mage who loves him deeply.

Still, he smiles, laughs a little watery and is walking _towards_ her despite the Sloan and Nightmare’s angry, desperate voices calling his name, calling him back.

They don’t understand, couldn’t ever, and Sin didn’t expect them too understand. He’s helpless to follow his feet to her.

Behind him, Sloan feels panic swell, shoved down only by her heavy LV and vice, allowing cooler heads to prevail. She can’t panic, not when Sin is walking into a trap.

“That,” Nightmare spits angrily suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at Frisk as Sin wraps his long arms around her slim frame, pulling her into a tight hug against his chest, “Is fucking bait.”

Sloan nods, mouth pulling into a grimace and suddenly she feels a swell of her LV burning under her skin, and she feels every kill, the blood on her hands, and every ounce of her LV 19 swelling in her soul heavy and brutal. She swears to all the Fates that if this bitch raises a hand to Sin, Sloan will kill her, herself.

“No shit.” Her voice is cold as azure magic snaps at her fingers, drawing Nightmare’s aqua eye light up to her, “She’s wearing the delta rune.” Nightmare’s brow furrowed, not understanding. Nightmare wasn’t dumb, far from it, but had a sixth sense to this sort of thing, could feel intention better then Sloan, but Sloan had been in war. She could spot a trap better then Papyrus, “Sin said the Royal Family had her executed.”

They share a look of cold concern, brief with understanding before they look back to Sin, yelling for him to come back, get behind them, _it’s a trap_.

Sin ignores them as he embraces Frisk, holding her so tightly, burying his face into her shoulder and just takes a _moment_ to hold her. He sighs when her arms go around him, gripping at his coat, “Oh Sans.”

He gives her a watery laugh, “Frisk, I missed you.” He muttered into her shoulder.

She gives him a little laugh, its high and soft, and when she pulls away from him, her hands reach for his cheeks, cupping them softly, like she had the night they slept under the false stars of his underground, “I missed you too.” She whispered, drawing him in to press a kiss to his mouth.

Sin sighs, wants to feel that old swell of emotion, wants to feel that same fondness when he held Frisk before everything that happened, but his battered soul barely twinges at her gentle touch. Instead, it recoils, longs for the touch of someone else, longs for the soft, warm hands of Sloan when she held him in her bed after a nightmare.

He longs for the cool tentacles from Nightmare twining up his spine, and his clever fingers on his ribs.

He wants Sloan’s voice whispering against his skull or laughing when she whomped him in Mario Party with the girls, he wants Nightmare’s rough voice telling him that everything was going to be fine and giving him dark promises.

He’s different now, and he’s starting to fall for someone who fits with who he is _now,_ and that brief, chaste kiss does nothing but prove it.

He’s falling hard for Sloan and Nightmare.

Drawing away, Sin’s yellow eye lights glance down into her confused, hurt face, and frowns, “Sans, what’s wrong?”

Behind them, Sloan and Nightmare are screaming _his_ name, telling him to fall back, to come to them, to get his ass behind them, and he realizes that he may have missed Frisk, his Frisk, but he didn’t love her. Not anymore.

He gives her a sad smile, feeling some kind of closure at long last, and hold her a moment longer. Her voice is small and confused, “Sans, I don’t understand.” She glances to the portal at her back, violent and boiling, before she looks to him, “Lets go home.” She pleads with him. 

He’s speaking before he can process her question, her request, and knows the truth, “Sorry Frisk. I’m glad to see you, glad your okay. But I am home.”

Glancing back to Sloan and Nightmare, he feels that warm, deep swell in his soul, and they draw a helpless smile from him.

“Who are they?” Frisk’s voice has dropped, lowering to something colder, a tone Sin had never heard before, but he brushes it off.

“Important people to me.” He admits quietly, doesn’t understand why they’re calling for him, “I can’t go with you Frisk.”

“You were never meant to be mine Sans.” She tells him suddenly, making him frown and drawing his confused gaze back to hers. The softness was gone, replaced by a bitter resentment as she glared up at him like she bit into a lemon, and it makes Sin go stiff, “You were supposed to be your father’s replacement. The bounty hunter.”

Sin can’t help it, he sneers before he means to, drawing away from Frisk. He doesn’t know what this is, doesn’t understand where this cruelty came from, “Yeah, too fucking bad I can’t track worth shit.”

She gives him a bitter look, and something akin to dread fills his soul. This isn’t right, something was wrong. “Papyrus was supposed to be mine. Not you. No. You are a poor replacement. A fun toy to play with on our trip from Snowdin to the Castle, that I would toss away when I was done with it.”

Sin freezes, sockets widening as a spear of ice goes through his soul, “I. What?”

“But then, you had to go ahead and get your brother killed in a fight you couldn’t win, so I had no choice but to keep you.” She tells him bitterly, and the softness, the guise of kindness is gone, leaving Sin shell shocked by her words, “And you couldn’t even do that right.”

Sin lets her go, takes a step away from this bitter, hateful creature he thought he knew, “Frisk. What, I don’t understand.”

She sneers at him, dropping the pretense of pleasure, her beauty darkening to something cruel and viscous, “You always were the stupid one.” Sin flinches at those words, hardly the first time anyone called him stupid, he had done well to hide his intelligence much to his fathers disgrace, but it’s the first time she’s called him stupid, “You’re brother was always the smart one. You were always just the whore.”

Sin blinks at her, feels something crush in his chest, and he thinks it’s his soul. Frisk had been his friend, the first person he had loved, and he _doesn’t understand._ Hurt blinds him, makes him freeze and he knows he needs to move, he knew better, he needed to fight back. “I did not fall into Snowdin Sans. I was there to collect the first member of my harem. You’re the oldest.” Her tone has changed, its not soft and kind anymore, but something mean and cold, “Your brother was promised to me. My first harem member for King Asgore to break for me, so I would have an obedient pet.” 

Sin can only hear white noise, shock rippling over his soul and he can only hear Frisk’s cruel voice. He feels sick listening to her works, tastes bile at the back of his throat, “Your brother was a wedding gift from your father. _I_ only thought it would be amusing to travel through the underground before I took him. Then you wrecked it.”

Sin can only stare at this hateful little creature, who for so long, Sin thought was his friend. His first love, and it was all a sham, “You…you what. You were going to hurt Paps?” He blinks at her, numb and shocked, and somewhere inside something screams in rage but its small under the detachment.

Frisk straightens, and those soft eyes that once gazed at Sin with love, _while she fucking toyed with him_ , stared up at him with ice in her veins, “You were a poor substitute Sans. Your brother would have bent, you just shattered.”

Sin can’t speak, somewhere inside, something breaks, and he doesn’t know what to say, what to do with this. It leaves him gaping at her, shell shocked and hurt while she walks all over him. He’s defenceless while she hurts him, again.

There’s a spark of azure magic, like star dust and clouds, a trick he’s seen from Lilith in battle, and suddenly Sloan is next to him. Fury in her eyes, magic darkening to something near navy blue and she has no such qualms to defend Sin from a relentless emotional assault, one that was designed to leave him defenceless.

Putting herself neatly between them, Sloan gives Sin a little shove back, stepping between he and Frisk, and if Sin ever, _ever_ doubted that Sloan and Lilith were sisters, he wouldn’t ever again. Now when she pulled her tightly closed fist back, magic swirling around it, and she punched Frist as hard as she could.

Sin doesn’t feel anything when Frisk cries out when there’s a brutal snap as the cartilage of her nose gives out, bloodying Sloan’s knuckles. Frisk hits the ground hard, eyes watering as she stares up in shock at Sloan.

The mage doesn’t move, stares down at her with vicious, cruel eyes, and when she speaks, Sloan’s voice is a cold, smooth melody, “How dare you.” She sneers, “You come to my territory, and attack my friend. Get out, before I make you eat your still beating heart.”

Frisk’s breathing hitches, trying to look panicked and hurt behind her to Sin, but Sloan has made herself a solid wall, a line between them. The immovable object and the unstoppable force, and as vicious as any battle mage, “I’m only showing you mercy for Sin. Now leave.”

Sin feels his chest hitch, throat thick and he watches a little shell shocked as Frisk pushes herself to her feet, shaky and upset, and he’s distantly afraid when his _father_ walks through the portal.

His father looks exactly like Sin remembers him. Tall and thin, still wearing that stupid black long coat and had scars just like Sin, and suddenly Sin feels like a child again. Like his father has just caught he and Papyrus sneaking out, like Gaster had been the one wronged and not Sin.

As if Sin hadn’t been the one betrayed and broken, apparently taking Papyrus’s place in Asgore’s bed.

Suddenly, Sin is grateful Papyrus, his Papyrus, was dead. 

Nightmare is by his side abruptly, pulling him back further away from his father and Frisk, putting himself between Gaster and he, standing with Sloan as a line between he and the threat. Somewhere in his core, it pules with relief that he isn’t alone, that they aren’t going to let them take him.

Gaster sighs at them, more annoyed as he stares coldly at Sloan and Nightmare, like they’re hairs in his soup, marvels at their audacity, and Sin feels his body go cold to see his father again. Gaster’s arms are crossed behind his back, bored and still, but one of the summoned hands helps Frisk back to her feet, nudging her back to the portal.

“As explained,” Gaster’s bored voice makes Sin flinch back, “by our companion. The mages are violent.” Sloan glares at them, angry and bitter, taking another step back, pushing Sin back with her, “And I doubted you would have the skill required to convince Sans to return home with you.”

Frisk turns angry, bitter eyes up at Gaster, angry tears slipping down her face as he continues, “Return home Princess, your husband awaits. I will bring home your prize.”

Frisk doesn’t even look back, doesn’t argue for his life or mercy, simply turns her back on him, them, still trying to stem the bleeding and Sin feels nothing as she slips back through the portal.

He should feel something, he thinks numbly, fear maybe, or hurt.

He’s going into shock, he thinks.

Gaster opens his mouth to speak, his grin wide and cruel, no doubt to throw abuse at Sin but Sloan is quicker, “Your inferiority complex?” she gives him a little nod, face cold, voice smooth as she gives him a condescending up and down, “Justifiable.” 

Next to her, Nightmare snorts, but Sin is only filled with terror as his father’s face falls before it picks up, “Adorable, I do so enjoy that you strive for adequacy.”

“Adorable.” Sloan is quick to clap back, voice patronizing, “I like the way you _try_.” His face falls again, “I’m jealous of all the people who haven’t met you. Honestly. This is like, four minutes of my life I will never get back.” 

Giving her a disgusted look, Sloan raises a brow as if to dare him to try again, and Gaster slowly closes his mouth before he looks to his son, “Sans. You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to come home.”

“He’s not going any where with you.” Nightmare snarls, shadowy teeth with the split in his jaw back, and it makes Gaster smile.

“Ah, you must be the _smart_ one.” Gaster mocks, head titling eyes narrowed on him as Nightmare’s tentacles rattle angrily.

Sloan’s eyes narrow, knows that it’s a sore spot for all Sanses to be called stupid and is having none of this multiverse bull shit today, “Kinda dangerous isn’t?” she asks lightly, drawing those empty angry sockets back to her, “To use your entire vocabulary in one sentence.”

Gaster’s sockets narrow and he huffs in annoyance when Nightmare snickers, “Enough.” He snarls, making Sloan’s head tilt with a vicious grin.

“Yes, enough. Get the fuck out of my world. You’re not welcome.” The smooth, musical tone to her voice has gone flat with anger, sharp enough to cut.

Gaster doesn’t flinch, merely sighs as he summons a dozen blasters, hot magic in their maws and humming with the will to fire. Sin freezes behind Nightmare and Sloan, and he realizes he needs to think about _them_.

“Come along Sans. Come quietly and I’ll spare your,” he grins, “friends.” He spits the word like a joke, making Sin flinch back. Hunching down, remember every time his father told him that he was worthless, that no one would ever love him and that’s why he had no friends. That he was unlovable.

_~~He doesn’t think of Papyrus, his brother, and all the times he promised that Sin was lovable, that there was someone out there just for him. That he’d be okay, their father didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.~~ _

What can he do, he’s not going to put them in danger. He wont, and head down he moves to step past them when Sloan grabs his arm, and those furious eyes glare at _him_ , “What the fuck do you think your doing?” she gives her head a shake, making Nightmare laugh viciously, licking sharpened teeth at Gaster as Sloan turns to him, “You think I can’t dodge all this? Try it bitch.” She challenges, magic humming through her body as she hangs on to Sin for all her worth.

Nightmare laughs again when Gaster gives her an annoyed, disgusted look, “Interesting. You were meant to be the easy one to deal with.”

Sloan snorts, hand still firm on Sin, “Someone lied.” She sing songs at him, mocking and amused.

Gaster huffs, “I’m going bored with this.” And his right eye flashes yellow, and Sin feels his soul freeze, and he grips at Sloan as tight as he can. 

It’s not enough, _~~Sin was never enough, not ever~~_ , as one of Gaster’s summoned hands wraps around the back of her neck, appearing behind her out of no where like one of his blasters and she’s yanked back as hard as it could have.

His grip on her slips the same times hers on him does, and he’s reaching helplessly for her as the hand drags her to the bridge. Sin feels a wash of terror and horror as she’s dragged with far too much speed to the deep, quick water and dragged into the cold waves.

Sin froze as her head disappeared beneath the waves, and he’s already turning to follow after her, when another of his fathers summoned hands grabs him by the throat and he’d dragged the other direction; Nightmare hisses and moves for him when the blasters go off in a canopy of blinding, burning light.

Horror fills Sin as he pulled towards the portal, he fights against the hand that pins him down, and he struggles against his father’s magic, even as he’s pulled past the portals thresh hold. Cold washes over him as terror spears his soul, afraid that he’s just got Nightmare and Sloan killed, Nightmare vaporized and Sloan drowning in a river.

Part of him laughs at the thought; Nightmare was a god, and Sloan a powerful mage. They’re survivors, fighters, and he refuses to believe their dead.

He’s pulled past the portal, back to his own hell and part of him wonders if they’d bother coming for him. He wasn’t worth it, and somewhere deep inside, something cracks in Sin.

-

Nightmare groans as he drops his tentacles, they’re still smoking from the attack when he’d used them to create a ball of darkness to protect his core. He winces in pain as they ache, wafting dark smoke every time he dares moves one. They writhe in pain, but he ignores it, looking for Sloan, his head snapping towards the river and panic swells.

She’s a spell caster, surely, she could do something to breath under water, but that thought does nothing to curb his panic over Sloan or his sheer terror over Sin. Fuck knew what they were going to do to Sin’s body now that they had free rain. Glancing around, Nightmare sneers to himself at the empty road, Sin and Gaster gone, the portal to his world gone. No matter, Nightmare can give chase once he’s pulled Sloan from the river. 

Limping to the bridge, Nightmare buries his panic, he needs to think clearly. Start with the one he could help, he could save Sloan from a watery grave, get her first then worry about Sin.

His damaged shoes barely touch the concrete of the bridge when there’s a swell of dark blue magic from beneath the rushing water, and with a bitter grin Nightmare relaxes. Of course, the spell caster wouldn’t be murdered by water, no Nightmare had chosen well in his allies and he firmly ignore the swell of fondness for Sloan.

He isn’t supposed to be fond of anyone. 

Water explodes from the river, splashing down on him to make him snarl as the icy droplets instantly cools his damaged tentacles, making agony spark anew in his body.

He ignores it as the spell caster traces back to the bridge, wet and furious, eyes wall to wall black with her rage, and stuffs his hands into his pockets, “You alright?” His voice is rough as his face sooths back out to its neutral appearance.

Sloan doesn’t even look at him, hands twisting elegantly as she casts a spell that dries her. Nightmare watches with amusement, smart, pretty, vicious spell caster. Those dark, angry eyes look down to him, checking him over and he feels the wash of a Check over his magic. Sloan must be satisfied with what she finds, because her next cold words are, “Nightmare, open a portal to Sin’s world. Then go fetch Lilith and Felix. Tell them to arm up, they’ll know what that means.” It’s an order, and Nightmare grins at her as a shiver of anticipation rolls through him, “I’ll meet you in Sin’s world.”

He laughs, and it’s dark and cold, and oh yeah, this will be fun, “Try not to kill everyone until we catch up.” He tells her lightly, grinning when Sloan’s face scrunches in fury.

“No promises.” She hisses coldly, and it makes Nightmare’s knees go weak. She’s worried about Sin _~~his favorite~~_ as well, willing to walk into a war on her own and _trusting_ him to bring back help. Bring to her not one, but two vicious mages who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the world down if Sloan asked them to.

They wouldn’t hesitate to go for Sin and bring him home.

Nightmare slouches a little, lazy and nonchalant as he reaches for Sin’s world. He remembers the way, knows how to get there and knows how to bring Sin home before something horrific happens to him. If they’re quick, this will be nothing but a close call for them to remember later. Gaster has only just taken Sin, he wouldn’t have made it to Asgore yet, they still had time.

His magic reaches out, taring through the void, that cold, dead place between worlds, determined to rip his way into Sin’s world and unleash a furious spell caster like all seven plagues at once. It’s magic he’s used a thousand times, easy and familiar, and it should be easy to get into Sin’s world. He’s been there more then once, fed off the ambient misery there and knows the way. No different then any of the Sanses shot cuts, just the same, only a little different.

His magic slams into a wall, and it feels like hitting brick or light, and Nightmare’s grin falls when he can’t push past it. His spine straightens as he presses harder against the wall, but the harder he tries the stronger the wall stops him, like a living thing. Like magic.

His socket widens as realization dawns, he can’t get past it, and Sin is cut off from him.

His hands ball and he grit his teeth, ignoring Sloan’s softening look of concern as he pushes harder until his vision blacks out with the strain. Sloan catches him before he crumples to the ground with a hiss, easing him down, sitting with him between her long legs to steady him, “Nightmare?”

“Something’s blocking my magic.” He tells her weakly, the unusual feeling of panic bubbling, and his head spins, “Its like light magic or something.” He pauses, pushes against it again, and grimaces, “It feels like the light shards.”

Sloan freezes next to him, hands still soft on his body, “We can’t get to Sin?”

He looks up at her horrified expression, the fury dying in the face of helplessness, and all Nightmare can do is nod, “It feels like whatever attacked us.”

Sloan’s magic fades back to bright, angry azure, enraged that it could still hurt them here, furious that they couldn’t get to Sin.

Sloan’s patient soul pulses and pushes back that helplessness through sheer force of will alone. With a nod she pushes herself to her feet, pulling Nightmare up with her, “Open a portal to the compound.” She tells him, leaving no room for argument, “We need to get to the armories library.”

Nightmare reaches for a portal to take them home, sweet relief filling him when he’s able to tare into space and time, a dark, gooey portal opening between them and the compound. He’s still unsteady on his feet and Sloan has a gentle hold on his shoulder when he gives her a confused look, “Why the hell do you have a library in the armory?”

Her face is hard, eyes shimmering with magic and it sparks around her body like static electricity, “Because some spells are just as dangerous as the weapons the battle mages use.” Her voice is flat and hard as she guides him to the slowly swirling portal, “And if there’s away to break past the barrier, it’ll be in there.”

Nightmare nods, allowing himself to be led along, lets his own fury spark that someone would dare touch one of _his_. They pause halfway between the compound and the bridge, and they both swear they can hear a child laughing with in the void.

-

Sitting in a cell on a cot chained to the wall, Sin stares firmly down between his knees, mouth pulled into a flat frown. The cuffs at his writs restrain his magic, and it’s a shame, he’d enjoy putting a sharpened bone through Asriel and Frisk’s fucking faces.

_~~He refuses to acknowledge that, that hurts him. To think like that, Frisk is a traitor the one who gave him to Asgore the first time. Gave him to the King, knowing full well what was about to be done to him. What would have been done to Papyrus, and Sin would never have allowed it. Not to his brother.~~ _

Frisk is sitting in a high back chaired across from him, her _husband_ just behind her, his large hands on her shoulders. The healers have repaired her nose, but the bruising is still heavy and thick, giving her two black eyes from when Sloan hit her square in the face.

She tries to look prim and proper, settling in the chair with an air of superiority that Sin doesn’t remember her having, “Sans.” He ignores her, that’s not his name but he’ll be damned if he’ll tell her what his new one is, “Who was that girl?” Sin glares at his hands that dangle between his knees. It’s the third time she’s tried to pry that information from him, and it’s the third time he’s ignored her.

“What’s her name?” names have power, and like hell is Sin giving her that power. Sloan is his, his happy memory, his sanctuary, and he’s not giving that up.

“She doesn’t love you.” Frisk tries, and yeah, probably not. But she likes him, and Sin can cope with that, “No one would love a whore Sans, that’s why she’s not coming for you. You can’t love yourself; how do you expect someone like her to love you. You’re a broken toy, worthless, useless, nothing.”

Sin fights down the flinch, he won’t give her the satisfaction, but Frisk knows him. Knows all his soft spots, “You got your brother killed Sans. It’s your fault he’s dead.” That makes him flinch and he can’t stop it from happening, “This is what your good at Sans. Just this. This is why you’re here, but your weak. Papyrus could have taken it, would have allowed himself to be molded into what I wanted him to be.”

Sans would have killed them both himself before he let that happened. He says nothing, only stares miserably at his hands. “But your weak Sans. You broke. Shattered. Left edges that were too easy to cut on. I wanted a pet, but not one that bites.”

Good, Sin hoped she cut herself on all his sharp edges.

Frisk sits back with a sigh, reaching for Asriel’s hand, “Asgore never should have let you go. It was a mistake, you are mine. My gift,” and when she smiles, it’s not a kind one, “my pet to do with you as I please. But now you have new skills.”

That brings his eye lights up finally, glaring coldly at her. “When Asgore and I are done with you, you will be a loyal, obedient guard dog. You wont dare question me Sans, you will spread your legs for who ever I tell you to, and kill who ever I demand it. And the first thing I’ll do when your mine, is have our new _friend_ open a portal to that girls world and order you to bring me her head.”

Sin blinks at her smug face, like’s she’s already won, but Sin isn’t the same as he was. Oh no, he’s worse. So much worse, stronger now. He’s rolled with the most dangerous versions of himself in the multiverse, and if she thinks she’s going to break him, Sin’s going to make her work for it.

Leaning forward, his blank, carefully neutral face cracks into a bitter, sharp smile, “I invite you to try.”

Her face falls, and behind her Asriel stiffens at the challenge as Frisk’s face clouds with anger.

He knows this is going to hurt, he knows they’re going to break him down, they’re going to debase him and humiliate him. He _knows_ they are going to dehumanize him, ruin him, and violate his body. Sin knows exactly what they’re going to do to him, and he knows eventually he will break.

But he’s going to fight them every step of the way, no matter how small or petty an infraction, he’s going to make them work for every inch they take from him.

He fights and struggles, no matter how useless it is when the guards come to take him to Asgore’s chambers. He scratches and claws and bites and is going to make them pay for every step they take. Sin’s going to fight them, make them pay for everything they take from him ten-fold. When he _knows_ they’ll win, he’ll take his own life as a final fuck you, just so they know that he won in the end.


	16. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out how Sin is fairing as the Den and the Crew try to find a way trough the shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Well, this is the chapter that I've warned about, there's a lot of darkness and hurt that are going to happen in this chapter, so please read the warnings. If this isn't something you want to read, or something that you are uncomfortable with, or something that will upset you, there is a brief, non-detailed synopsis at the end of this chapter so that future chapters will makes sense. Please don't read if this will upset you, and keep yourself safe. 
> 
> Otherwise, come on in and lets see how poor Sin is fairing. 
> 
> Than you, 
> 
> WARNING: rape and non/con elements including gang rape and incestuous rape, description of torture, broken bones, burning, poisoning (the use of Spider Cider as a way to bring about false arousal) attempting to break someones mind by causing sleep deprivation

Pouring over the heavy, leather book, Sloan tires very hard not to think about what kind of skin the book was made from, going through spell after sell, all of it useless for what she needed. She refuses to feel the despair that is trying to swell in her chest, anything beyond sheer determination and patience wasn’t going to serve her here. Sin can’t afford her to break now, not with his life hanging in the balance, and he needs her at her best.

He needs her cool, calm and collected, and not swirling into a broken fit of tears and thinking how this wasn’t fair. How it wasn’t right, just when she was starting to really connect with him, Sin was taken. Sloan can’t focus on that, not now. Now, she needs that ice-cold armor that protected her soul during the war, she needs to be above it all and twice as vicious. Once she gets there, anyone who hurt him, is going to pay.

Sloan can’t look to the kitchen, where Sin’ brand new glasses sit in their case innocently, waiting for him to come home to put them on. She can’t bare to see what was meant to be his, it makes her heart ache and her eyes to water and none of that will serve her here either.

No, better to suppress that until she doesn’t need to anymore, and they’ll deal with the back lash of emotion when Sin’s home. _~~Conveniently, she doesn’t pay too much attention to how she calls their world Sin’s home. It was, as far as she was concerned.~~_

No doubt they would all need to work their shit out once they got Sin back. No way Sloan was the only one brutally suppressing emotion that was going to burn on its way out when this was all done. Fuck, even Sans’s hadn’t made a pun since Sin was taken, Lilith didn’t sigh, and Felix didn’t laugh.

No, they were al focused on one thing. They moved with the soul purpose to bring Sin home. 

Around her, her Den, all members of her Den, were going through the heavy books, looking for something that would break the shield. Any petty bickering, Ripper being an asshole, Red being a bigger asshole, Sans’s LV, was boxed up and shoved aside for later. They had bigger issues right now, and nothing short of full dedication to the cause was going to bring Sin home.

They all understood this, and not one of them disappointed.

So far, anything promising came up lacking, unable to get past the shield between them and Sin. For three days, they looked, and searched and researched only to come up empty.

Three, long fucking days of radio silence, and Sloan refuses to believe the worse. No, Sin was strong, he would hang on, he was a fighter, he’d cling to life.

He had to.

Sloan refuses to feel the swell of grief at losing, buries the blame that was not hers under rage and bitter resentment. She’ll deal with her misplaced self blame later, once Sin is home and safe, and back in her bed where he fucking belongs, she’ll deal with it then.

Right now, Sin needs her to fucking focus.

Lilith suddenly straightens from her slouch, putting her book back to the table from her lap, crimson eyes bright as she narrows them in thought from where she sits between Red and Sans. Edge is just on Sans’s other side, the four of them suspiciously always close and Sloan refuses to feel jealous of it. She won’t feel angry that it was her one of her favorites that was lost, and not her sisters, she won’t begrudge Lilith and Sans that, she’s not that cruel.

Lilith and Sans had been through enough, and if anything, deserved a bit of a break from Fate.

“Sloan.” Lilith’s voice is slow as she thinks and considers the problem, weighing the options in a way only a battle mage could, “Where’s that book on powerups?”

Red and Sans both look up at her, brows furrowing at the mage between them, and at her question even as Sloan glances around the table. All around her, the Den and the Crew had their noses buried in books and tomes of questionable origins, all working closely together to bring Sin home, all desperate to find something to break the shield. 

No one questions why they work so seamless, and right now, that’s what Sloan needs.

“There.” She points to a fleshy book near Ripper in one of the stacks that needed someone to go through, “Rips can you pass that over.”

Ripper’s pale face lifts, and Sloan knows he should be in bed, his cane propped against the table. They had tried to get him to sleep through this whole ordeal, but he refused and threw a fit. Threatened to hurt himself if they didn’t let him help with this at least, all any of them could do to find Sin.

Reaching for the book, he’s careful to ease it out of the stack, pausing to look at it with a grimace, “There’s a face.” He tells her plainly as he stares at the horrifying cover with the stretched skin of a mans face, forever stuck in a silent scream, and Sloan nods.

“Yeah.” She hands it to Lilith, who lays it over the book she was already going through, “It’s the author.”

Ripper makes a face, scrunching up in disgust, “That’s fucked.”

Sloan shrugs, going back to own book, “I didn’t kill him. I just stole the book.”

Ripper blinks half lidded sockets at her, then snorts, “Gross.” Then goes back to his own book of spells.

“What are you thinking Lilith?” Edge’s rough voice brought her attention back to them, his crimson eye lights are like burning suns with his _drive_ to find Sin and he misses the shiver that races down Sans’s spine at his rough voice.

“I think we’re looking at this wrong.” Lilith tells him as she looks through the spells page by page, “Instead of trying to get around the shield, I think we could break through it if we consolidate power.”

It’s not something they’ve considered yet, but it has Felix looking up with a frown, “That would leave us vulnerable.” He tells her slowly, eyes flickering between black and gold as he fights to keep his vice in line with what needs to be done, “It could take one or two of us to pour magic into Nightmare, and leave us two less for the assault.” And yes, there would be an assault.

When Sloan had reported back what had happened in Old Town, the battle mage’s had prepared for a war, bags of weaponry ready to go by the front door, and all they needed was a route to Sin. When they got there, they weren’t asking nicely for his safe return.

Lilith nodding placidly, “Sure. That’s why we’re going to ask Nadia and her Den to do it.” Her voice is cold and dead, Lilith just hoovering above the killing edge. 

Felix hesitates, thinks about it then nods, “Okay, that’s pretty smart.”

Lilith nods, making Sans grin up at his mate’s cold face, “I know.” She says with a confidence of a mage old enough to know it to be true.

Sloan does know it as well, and Sin’s best chance to getting home, are all sitting in this room with her.

All she needs him to do is hang on a little while longer.

\- 

Waking up on the hard, cold stone floor, Sin fights the bile that swells at the back of his throat, and the pain that pulses from his ribs. He squints his sockets under the nauseatingly bright light of his cell, slow to blink them open even when it feels like knifes are piercing his skull.

Groaning, he tries not to think how this has become his norm, waking up feeling like he’s hung over on the stone floor, cold and shaking. Trembling like a newborn calf, and whether that was from shock, lack of nutrients or pain, it was hard to say. Probably all three, if Sin had to guess. 

Working the kink out of his neck, not quite ready to sit up, Sin winces at the knot in his magic from passing out in a weird position. Stars forbid the guards dump him on the fucking cot in his cell, always too lazy and left him on the cold, hard floor. Assholes.

Breathing slowly through his teeth, Sin tries not to think too much on what’s happened so far. He’s kept in the bright cell all the time when he’s not being used, better to break somebody when you don’t allow them to properly sleep. He has no idea how many days have passed since they caught him, its too hard to keep track of time with nothing to base it off.

His head spins and nausea fills Sin when he tries to move, and he forces it down with will alone. He needs to get ready for todays fun and games if has any hope to survive.

Pushing himself to sit up, Sin winces, his two broken ribs shift painfully and his breathing hitches as he moves. He forces himself to ignore it, it doesn’t matter, and he buries his pain. Slowly, he manages to sit up and leans back against the wall at his spine and sighs in relief once he’s settled.

He doesn’t look down at his broken ribs, doesn’t want to see them swollen with leaking magic and shattered, and he takes a moment to just breath through it all. He shifts, winces again when his ribs pull, and he feels filthy with Asgore’s cum is still stuck to his bones. Some of it is drying and flaking off, more still is sticky and tacky, and Sin doesn’t want to see the state of his body. No thanks, he’d rather stare at the over lit grey wall and that’s what he does.

He knows better then to ask for a shower. Nothing good ever happens in the showers.

He’s still trembling on the cold floor with enough force to make his bones rattle and whether its from shock or passing out naked, Sin couldn’t tell. Yet, he needed to get himself under control before a guard fetched him for another day of being Asgore’s fuck toy while he tried to break him.

Jokes on fucking Asgore, Sin broke a long time ago.

Sin sighs, staring at the grey stone around him, slowly rebuilding his mental walls, preparing himself emotionally for what was about to happen. He forces his bones to stop shaking through will alone, ignores his body’s needs, _toys don’t have needs_ , ignores how much he craves a smoke, _toys don’t smoke,_ how he’s been naked since Asgore stripped him down like a gift on his birthday _, toys don’t need cloths after all._

Sin ignores it all and buries it all under a layer of ice and detached numbness.

He’s been here three days, Sin thinks. It would make sense, he considers, that’s how many times Asgore has brought him to his chambers to fuck, slap around and back to his cell. If this were a nightly or daily thing, that would make sense, right?

He tries not to think of the times he was dragged kicking and screaming to Asgore’s chambers, tries not to think how Asgore tortured him; how Sin had learned to control his reactions, didn’t show his pain even when Asgore broke bones, or burned him or took him with enough force to cause his echo flesh to give and he bled.

Sin sighed and pushed it all down again. Its only been three days, maybe, and he needs to hold on a little while longer. For what, Sin isn’t sure, but fuck, maybe Sloan or Nightmare might come for him. Sin hopes not, he doesn’t want them to put themselves in danger, he’s just not worth the risk. He doesn’t latch onto hope, it’s useless, all he can do is be spiteful. Hang on to be petty, just to drive Asgore and Frisk crazy.

Taking a breath, Sin glances to the plate of breakfast and the pitcher of cool sea tea, and firmly ignores it for a moment. He needs to do his daily routine before he even thinks about eating.

Sitting up a little straighter, even when it hurts, he stares straight ahead, his words rough when he quietly says, “My name is Sin. I’m important. I have people who love me. I am not a toy. My name is Sin. I’m important.”

Ten times he repeats those words to himself, quiet and believes in them, clings to them. He has no choice but to self sooth and remind himself, that he is fucking important.

Ten times he repeats that, before he looks to the harmless looking plate of eggs and the pitcher of cold sea tea. Sin feels his stomach churn, knows that Spider Cider is hidden in all of those items, but he’s hurt and has no choice but to eat. He needs to heal, and monster food will do it for him, even with the risk of Spider Cider, making him hot and needy, making his body bend to other peoples will.

Sin licks his teeth, glaring at the innocent looking plate, tries not to think how Asgore threatened Sloan to get him to drink Spider Cider the first day. He didn’t know if they could go after the Crew and the Den, didn’t want to put Sloan in danger because he was too much a coward to suffer for it, and drank the Spider Cider without being forced.

He let Asgore have him, hurt him, if it kept the others, kept Sloan and Nightmare, safe.

This was no different, and he drinks the sea tea. The monster food heals his battered bones, shores up his HP, does what he needs it to do as it mends his ribs even as he feels heat flush through his body. He groans weakly, moans as unwanted pleasure spreads through his body, and he knows better then to fight it.

Fighting Spider Cider just makes it worse, that’s something they can all attest to, and he gives himself over to it, and allows his echo flesh to form.

His pussy forms in his pelvis, yellow and silky, lush and wet as he readies himself for whatever they want to do to him today. Sighing, Sin shuts away all memories of Sloan’s soft, musical voice and her beautiful face and Nightmare’s rough voice and smirk. He locks them away, some place safe that he can cling to their memories, but far enough away to be untouched by those who look to hurt him.

Sin won’t allow them to even know Sloan and Nightmare’s name, they don’t deserve to speak their names and Sin won’t allow it.

-

Sin doesn’t wait long before the door to his cell opens and his soul pangs with pain as Frisk walks calmly into his cell, like she has any fucking right. She comes in boldly with a guard at her back, who’s only purpose is to set up a chair for her to sit in.

Fates forbit the _Princess_ sit in the fucking dirt with him.

_~~Sloan would have sat with him in this hellhole, would have told him it’s alright and he’s safe.~~ _

_~~Sin would never have allowed her to be caught.~~ _

Sin smirks at her neutral face, spreading his knees wide just to be obscene, opening himself up in a mocking version of an invitation, taking pleasure when Frisk recoils, the homophobic bitch that she is.

“Sans,” she starts politely, and aren’t they always so polite to him, “How are you feeling?”

Like she has any right to ask that, but Sin smiles patiently back at her, his words mocking and bright, “Wonderful.” ~~~~

Frisk sighs, looking a little disappointed, “You don’t need to be so sarcastic.”

He makes a face at her, his words mocking, “ _You don’t need to be so sarcastic_.” He spits back at her with a high-pitched voice just to make her cringe.

Frisk sighs again, pretty face pinching, looking disappointed at him. She could go fuck herself, if anyone asked Sin. “I was hoping we would be past this now Sans.” He snorts at her, but lets her talk, “I’m rather disappointed that you aren’t were I wanted you to be.”

Sin rolls his eye lights, she talks like she’s teaching him how to read or play the piano, and not trying to break him apart, “What can I say, I’m a disappointment.” He tells her sardonically.

“It’s like you have forgotten all that was taught to you already.” She muses more to herself.

“Yeah, I did my fucking best to block that shit out.” He tells her bitterly, making Frisk frown at him.

He needed to stop calling her Frisk, she’s not her. She’s not Lilith’s adorable baby sister, who, for no other reason beyond that he was looking lonely one after noon, took his hand and walked him to where she, Hope and Mercy were playing video games. She’s not the bright, kind girl who let him play Mario Party with them, she’s not the girl who saved the monsters of her world and brought back help in the form of her fierce big sister.

This bitch needed a new name.

“Sans.” She scolds lightly, and Sin thinks bitch is too kind a word for her. “Don’t curse.”

He gives her a flat look, “Fuck you.” Just to make her cringe.

Maybe Fuckface?

“Sans.” She scolds him again, her voice harder this time, more of an edge.

Maybe Cuntbag? No, Fuckface had a better ring to it.

“What?” he snaps at her, letting her see his irritation, and knows he shouldn’t, that he’s given her an inch even if it makes her frown. “You’ve had me raped and tortured, and you want me to be fucking nice to you?” he laughs bitterly, “Go fuck yourself.”

Frisk…no, Fuckface frowns at him, dark eyes narrowed, so he continues with a mocking voice, “I mean. What was your end game here? You’ve had me for like, what, three days? Maybe. Did you really expect me to roll the fuck over for you already?” the disappointed clouded in her face clearly said yes, yes she did, “It took Asgore months to try to break me the first time. When I was already raw after watching Paps die.” He gives her a bitter grin, “It’s going to take you months more to break me.”

He draws himself back up straight, legs still spread wide just to make her uncomfortable, his arms pressed back to the wall so they don’t shake, “Did you really expect me to want to touch you? You came in here, to what? Fuck me? Sorry, Asgore taught me well not to summon my cock.” Yeah, he did that once before, during the first time, and never again. His smile goes slick, “Or maybe you wanted something else. That it _Princess_?” he spits the word, “Do you want me to go down on you?” his grin turns bitter again, “I’m told I’m very talented at _cunnilingus._ ”

The Princess frowns at him, dark eyes flashing to the side before she quietly asks, “Is that what you want?” and the asshole that she is lifts her skirts a little, spreading her ankles.

Sin grins at her, more baring of his mostly flat teeth so she can see his sharp, pointed canines, and he wishes he had the Fell’s fangs, “Sure, if you want to put your delicate bits near my mouth. Let’s see how well you fair.”

She frowns at him, dropping her skirts again, ankles going together so she can pretend she’s prim and proper, “There’s no need for that Sans.” She scolds him like a fucking child.

Sin sneers at her, “Go fuck yourself, you stupid Fuckface.” Her face pinches into anger, and Sin knows he’s going to pay for that, but it’s fucking worth it just to see her look like she bit into a lemon.

“I think you need a shower Sans.” She tells him coldly, eyes narrowed, and Sin suppresses the shiver down his spine, doesn’t let her see that he’s terrified by that, “Queen Toriel wants to see you later today,” her eyes flick distastefully over his battered, dirty bones, “And your disgusting. You will be cleaned before the Queen sees you.”

That sends another shiver down his spine, and terror claws at his soul. If King Asgore was bad, the Queen was worse.

Sin could take the pain, he couldn’t take the pleasure that Toriel would force on to him. She would make him orgasm when he didn’t want it, would treat him _nicely_ , and that more then anything would wear him down faster.

Sin gives the Princess a bitter look, doesn’t let her see the growing horror that he’s quick to bury in his soul, “Great.”

-

Sin doesn’t fight the two guards down to the baths.

It’s not because he’s tired, or because the terror that keeps creeping up in his soul, but because he knows he’s going to need every ounce of energy to fight back. If they think he’s going to take this laying down, they’ve got another thing coming. He’s going to fight back as hard as he can, and he’s going to make them pay for everything they’re going to do to him.

He’s going to take as many of them down with him as he can.

The two heavily armed guards at his back shove him down the polished halls of the castle, and Sin is bitter when he remembers strolling down these halls, hates who he was when he thought the polished stone was pretty.

Sin buries it, stares straight ahead, focuses on the double doors of the baths, and allows cold ice to shield his soul. He knows what’s beyond those doors, knows what’s about to happen to him and he can’t be feeling things right now. 

The doors are heavy polished wood, meticulously painted with intricate patterns carved into its surface. Its easier to focus on that then anything else until he’s shoved passed the heavy doors and into the luxurious baths.

He stumbles forward from the hard shove, nearly slipping on the slick marble tile and listens for the click at his back that the door has been locked as his two guards come in behind him.

The bathing rooms are beautiful, like something out of a movie from the surface, with marble pillars and deep man-made pools of hot water, tiny water falls at each one. So pretty, so peaceful and Sin has no idea of the number atrocities that have taken place here.

One more’s about to happen, and he takes a breath too settle his racing thoughts.

Around him delighted faces of monsters grin back at him, a full squad of at least a dozen, including the two at his back.

Great.

They’re all as naked as he is, and behind him he can hear the two guards in armor stripping theirs off, the clicking and clanky as they drop their armor and don’t care about it. Mildly he thinks the battle mage’s would be horrified, he hadn’t know them long but knew they deeply believed in, take care of your equipment, and it will always take care of you.

He thinks back to the afternoon, just before Ripper woke up, that Lilith and Felix had taken him and a few others out to the shooting range, all smiles and grins, and shitty jokes as they taught them. He thinks how they taught them to be safe, how to make sure the weapons were safe, how to care for them afterwards.

Gentle, great teachers, and they had cared.

Sin quietly boxes up that memory and put it with the others to cling to later tonight when he’s ready to processes what the fuck is about to happen to him.

“Boys.” He acknowledges the room brightly, the suppressor cuffs at his wrists keeping him from reaching his magic, “Lets play a fair game, yeah?”

Around the room, dark chuckles roll through the squad, and from the back someone sighs. It sounds annoyed and when they speak, the soldiers move aside so Sin can see his father sitting in the back corner in a wrought iron chair that looks uncomfortable as fuck. Good, Sin hoped the asshole threw out his back.

He refuses to let his grin fall even when dread pulses in his soul when he sees Gaster sitting there, all prim and proper. He’s sitting at a little round wrought iron table, and a teacup made with the fancy china. “Remember gentleman.” He sounds as bored as he looks, a shitty referee, “He belongs to Princess Frisk, and his life is protected by King Asgore. Do not kill him.” 

Sin beams around the room, “Hear that boys. Can’t hurt me too bad.” And his eye lights flash a deeper yellow despite how his father sighs, “Well, lets get on with it.”

They’re all smiles and dark chuckles, and Sin’s expecting the attack from behind. A massive body, heavy and furry presses up against his spine, a thick arm going around his throat in a choke hold. Around the room the others laugh.

Sin doesn’t go for the arm at his throat, no point, instead he jams his elbow back into the monster’s belly as hard as he can, driving the bone of his elbow into his solar plexes, making him gasp and loosen the grip around his throat.

It’s all the give Sin needs; he reaches for the arm around him, pushes his hips back and with all his strength flips the monster over his shoulder. It’s an easy maneuver, one of the first the assassin’s guild taught him, and the room goes quiet as the bear monster lands hard on the white marble floor.

The bear coughs, winded and confused on how he’s got there, and Sin doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hands round his skull, massive and heavy, and twist with all his might.

The snap of his neck is loud in the quiet bathroom, and the faces of the squad go lax with shock as the heavy body hits the ground. Sin gives them a brutal grin, bright and cruel, with eye lights flashing with devious ruthlessness, as the body turns to dust, lost to the gentle sounds of water running.

Gaster sighs, not looking impresses at any of them, and it makes Sin’s grin widen, “He was trained by the assassins guild. Do not forget that.” 

Sin can’t help the spike of hurt that, even killing someone twice is size, with no magic and when he was naked, didn’t even bring a mildly impressed look to his father’s face. Fucker.

Sin buried that thought as anger and rage darken the faces of the other guards in the room, and two rush him. They slam their much larger bodies, solid and heavy, into Sin, taking him off his feet, slamming him into the ground. The back of his skull bounces off the marble, but doesn’t crack, and he’s already struggling with the two massive, heavy bodies over his, kicking helplessly out as they struggle to pin down his arms.

A third monster, a massive plant thing with big fucking teeth dives for his leg, slamming it down, while a bun goes for his other. The dumb fucker comes at him straight on, and Sin doesn’t hesitate to pull his leg back and kick upwards with all his might, breaking the snout with brutal efficiency.

He stumbles back with a cry of pain while Sin laughs despite how a fourth monster dives for his free leg as his partner stumbles backwards. The bun is holding his nose to stem the bleeding, as it takes four of them to pin him down, and still Sin tries to struggle.

Taking a step forward so he stands over Sin, the bun pants over him, holding his bleeding nose while he glares. Huffing in anger, the bun wipes the blood from his nose onto the fur of his thigh before he drops to his knees over his hips. Caging Sin in, he looks to his buddies as Sin continues to struggle, “Keep him pinned down.”

The one with the teeth laughs, “We got him, he’s not going anywhere.”

Another bun by his head grins down at him, his long ears tickling his skull and Sin snaps his teeth at him. They laugh and the second bun whispers, “Struggle. We like it when they do.”

The first, the one that cages him in, reaches back and punches him hard in the face, so hard that Sin’s skull snaps to the side with a spew of marrow and magic. The bun reaches back to hit him again, encouraged by the jeers of his peers, but Gaster’s cold voice stops him, “He does not belong to you.” He reminds them, “Do not damage what does not belong to you.”

The bun lowers his fist, light eyes cruel and Sin grins up at him, marrow smearing along his jaw line.

“Whatever.” The bun hisses, his grin a cruel delight as he stares down at Sin, “I don’t have to hit you to hurt you.”

Sin _laughs_ when he grips at his hips, his pussy still bright and solid thanks to the Spider Cider, but the initial effects have worn off and the fight has driven any heat from his body, leaving him tacky and nearly dry.

Internally, Sin tries to brace despite his crazed laughter, tries to will away the pain as the bun, heavy and hard, forces his way into his body. Sin gasps at the intrusion as he’s parted, the bun forcing his way inside, and Sin arches in a vain attempt to escape the pain as something inside is torn. Around them, the others laugh, waiting eagerly for their turn as Sin is taken.

They want him to struggle, they want him to hurt, but he refuses to give them what they want and retreats inside himself. He goes limp in their hold, lets them do what they want to his body as he mentally steps away, goes somewhere else, someplace warm and safe where they can’t hurt him, but his mouth continues to run; he doesn’t need to be aware to spew vulgarities and insults. 

“You started yet? Fuck I didn’t even realize you were fucking me.” That one earned him another strike, face snapping the other way while his body laughed, marrow smearing down his face.

The bun moved over him, _in_ him, and Sin isn’t even aware that he’s pulled in tightly and the buns hot seed is coating his aching channel.

“Done already? Fuck, no wonder you need to rape slaves.”

Sin doesn’t realize the words he’s spewing, throws them out with muscle memory, words he knows deep down will cut and his aim is true.

The next one takes him, and his mouth keeps running, “Shit, you in yet? I can’t even feel you.” Is a lie as he’s stretched painfully, this one bigger then his friend, but Sin only registers it vaguely, barely feels the burn of the monster inside him.

The second one thrusts into his body roughly, taking him like he had a right to, growling, “Can one of you shut him up.”

Sin bites at the hand from the big tooth fucker, makes him bleed but he only laughs and shoves his hand deeper down his throat, choking him. His voice is muffled, but he hopes they get the gist of what he’s saying.

-

Sin doesn’t know how long he’s been laying curled on his side on the warm marble floor of the baths, around him the soothing sound of water running reaches his dizzy skull and aching body like a mockery of peace. Nothing about what just happened to him was peaceful or serene, it was brutal and cruel, and left Sin shaking on the floor in a puddle of his own marrow and magic.

There was no one to tend to his wounds here, no one to check in on him and make sure he’s okay. No one to make sure he was okay after being taken, no, raped, by a dozen guardsmen. No one here cared about him enough to pick up his broken pieces and hold him until he could pull himself back together.

_~~Don’t think about Sloan and Nightmare.~~ _

But he’s not alone.

Taking a shaky breath, Sin pushes himself up onto his hands, smearing the spent magic, marrow and cum that he’d been laying in across the marble floor as he tries to find his balance. Untouched by the brutality, his father watches him with mild interest.

“Enjoy the show?” Sin sneers as he fights down the wince as the echo flesh between his legs throb painfully, cum and marrow tickling down his femur.

Gaster looks unbothered, simply tilts his head as Sin stands, limping to one of the baths. He’d done more then enough to earn to get clean. “I’m impressed that you managed to pull yourself together so quickly, I expected you to wallow in your mind much longer.”

Sin snorts, slowly, painfully, lowers himself into the nearest tub of hot water, sighing as his aching bones relax into the pool, “Figures.” He sneers, “Of all the fucking things you could have been impressed with, you pick that.”

He slouches into the hot water, just needing a moment to soak, to processes what the fuck just happened to him. Relaxing into the hot, humid air and steaming water.

He just needs a few moments, and he’ll be ready for round two. Sleep would be better, but this’ll do.

Behind him, Gaster sits up a little straighter, fingers drumming on the iron table, sockets narrowed. Mouthy little shit, “You always had a clever mouth Sans. You never knew when to shut it.”

Sin snorts, “Yeah, you were just never around to realize I was an asshole.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Gaster’s hands go to his lower back as he leisurely strolls around the bath, sockets narrowed on the white skull just over the water’s edge, “I should have beaten this rebellious attitude out of you when you were a child.” He muses allowed.

Sin snorts, sockets opened a slit as he tracked his father, “Probably.” He agreed good naturedly, “Too late now.”

Gaster circles the tub until he stops at the stairs, and plants himself there too look straight on with Sin, “Interesting that you retreat so easily into yourself when they touched you. Such a simple, easy defense mechanism.”

Sin shrugs, sitting a little straighter. This isn’t right, somethings wrong, his father should have left Sin to pick himself back up after that session. What’s the game here?

“If it works.” He said slowly, head tilting.

Gaster hums under his breath before he asks, “Is that how you plan to ride this out Sans? Retreat inside during every session?” Sin says nothing, glares up at Gaster as the pool of water darkens with his filth, only to be cleared away by the filters, “I do wonder what would happen to you, if you were forced to stay in the here and now?”

Sin’s face scrunches, cold dread crawling up his spine, “What?”

He doesn’t get another warning and he curses himself, reacting too slowly, his skull still spinning from what just happened to him. He should have known better as his father’s magic sparks around him and hands reach for his body. He swallows a strangled noise as a hand appears in front of his chest and shoves him back hard against the tiled wall at his spine.

He flinches at being touched so soon after the brutality that was forced upon him as two other hands grasp his humeri and wrench them painfully back. It forces Sin’s spine to arch so the hands could pin them to the marble floor the pool was set into.

Two more hands pinned his forearms down, and another two at his writs, effectively keeping him flat against the edge of the pool.

“What the fuck?” he sneered as four more hands appeared over the warm liquid of the pool before they sunk down beneath the water. Dread fills his soul, and panic makes him struggle harder as two of them grasped at his thighs, pinning them down and spreading his knees. The last two grasped his ankles, pinning them to the seat of the pool, leaving Sin pinned and unable to move as Gaster slowly, methodically stripped himself down.

He folded his clothing carefully, setting them aside to keep them dry as Sin struggled as it dawned on him what was about to happen, “Wait.” There’s a bit of a desperate edge to his voice, “Wait, you can’t do this. I’m your son.”

Gaster’s cold, angry sockets lifted to him, glaring with indifference, “As you said Sans, I should have beaten that rebellious streak out of you when you were younger. As it is, you are no longer a child and I am not using childish methods to eradicate it.” 

He stepped into the pool, and Sin hissed, struggling harder as yellow magic began to harden in Gaster’s pelvic girdle.

Horror fills Sin as his fa…no. As Gaster presses himself between Sin’s spread thighs, pressing in against the front of his body and Sin cringes to feel Gaster’s _large,_ hard length against his raw and bruised echo flesh, “You can’t.” he said weakly as Gaster’s hands reach out to cup his face in a mocking embrace of a lover.

Another summoned hand slips beneath the water between their pressed bodies, and Sin’s breath hitches when clever, experienced fingers press in against his bruised clit, sparks of unwanted pleasure washing away the hurt as they rub in a hard, little circle.

Another hand gently touches the lips of his summoned echo flesh, being so careful, so gentle as the fingers prod inside; the fingers at his clit press harder and unwanted pleasure sparks at his spine. Tears gather at Sin’s sockets, but he refuses to cry as two careful fingers slip inside, cautious to part him as if they were from a lover carefully preparing his body.

He gasps and tries to struggle as a third is gently pressed inside, and the fingers at his clit are relentless. Gaster grins darkly at him, crooning softly, “I don’t want to hurt you,” he chuckles against the side of Sin’s skull, “but I’m much larger then the guard. I want to ensure your ready for it.”

Gaster smiles again, and its cruel and his chuckle dark, “Isn't this what you always wanted Sans? My undivided attention?” he asked, mockingly soft as the fingers retreated from his body with a gurgle of water and Gaster took Sin gently with a heavy cock that spread him easily. The fingers at his clit continue to touch him softly, drawing shaky breaths of pleasure, as if he were a lover.

Horror rose like bile from his chest as he feels the hard length inside is raw, aching body, moving with unexpected gentleness. Gaster moves softly inside of him, water sloshing over the side of the pool, and Sin desperately tries not to feel the soft glide of the hard length inside his body. The first deep thrust has disgust churning his non-existent stomach and he can feel his magic revolting at what’s being done to his body, and by who and Sin is desperate to escape. To retreat into the safety of his mind and pretend this isn’t happening. 

“No, no, no Sans. Not this time.” Gaster’s voice is soft, and too close to his skull. He moved within Sin’s body, stretching him painfully, brushing against raw damage left by those who came before, “You’re going to stay with me this time, I want you to experience this.”

“Fuck you!” Sin hisses, struggles against the hands that hold him, tries to retreat harder.

Gaster hums softly, whispering against his skull as he moves carefully, so gently Sin hurt in other ways, “What was it the girl called you again? Something with an S…ah yes. Sin.”

Sin flinches away at his name being spoken from the mouth of a cruel abuser. “Yes, that was it. Sin. You see Sin, my son is dead, and you are nothing.” And he moves slowly within his aching, burning body. 

Despair fills his chest, and Sin feels something break inside. 

-

From the void, Gaster, Sans’s Gaster, the one who saved Lilith from the certain death and loves his sons more than anything else in the world, vomits what little ambient magic he had managed to gather in a dark pool of void power.

Before him, in a shaft of light, a horror show is finishing, leaving him gagging on air and nothing, and all Gaster can do is watch helplessly from the void. Watch as this perverse, horrific, _bastard_ version of himself engage in sexual contact _with his own son._

No. This wasn’t just sexual contact, that was too sterile. Rape. That’s what he just witnessed. Something so horrific, and _wrong_ that Gaster can’t believe what he just bore witness to.

Something shifts from within him. Something shifted _back_ into place as fury fills him. Wiping his mouth with the side of a hand, Gaster scowls. How dare he. How _dare he_.

Gaster watches with growing fury as this other version of himself finishes, cums inside Sin’s trembling, aching body, watches as he hurts Sin just a little more and withdraw like it was nothing. Watches as this cruel version pulls himself out of the pool of water, leaving Sin to weakly sink against the side of the tub, distraught and afraid, staring in horror. Sin clings to the side of the tub as his Gaster dries himself coldly, curling into a ball to make himself a smaller target.

Gaster watches with fury in his soul as his alternative coldly tells Sin to hurry and clean himself up, that Queen Toriel will be expecting him shortly and he’d better be presentable; then, as if nothing had happened, he left Sin there alone to clean himself.

From the shaft of light, Gaster can only watch helplessly as Sin finally bends a little, curls into a miserable ball and quietly sobs into his hands. His shoulders shake with the effort of his cries, trembling like he’s cold in the hot water, all the evidence of his abuse filtered away like nothing happened.

Gaster’s soul pangs with sadness. This may not be his son, but he wears Sans’s face. He has Sans’s smile, and right now he has no one else.

Pushing himself through the void hurts, its painful to pass through the veil that keeps the things that live in the void, in the void, but for Sin, Gaster is willing to suffer. The magic that makes up his goopey, inky body sizzle as he passes the veil, and he moves on dead, silent feet to the pool.

His own hurt is nothing to what this man has just suffered. No, he will ignore his pain for Sin.

He sits next to Sin, but no water touches him, and he doesn’t even cause a ripple in the pool. _It’s okay Sin._ He whispers to him, _You cry. You just cry, all you want. I’ll be right here._

He knows Sin can’t hear him, but he tries any ways. Gaster talks to him softly, tells him he’s okay, allows his broken, spoiled magic to reach out to the young skeleton next to him, his shattered soul singing out to the one breaking in Sin’s battered body.

Sin does cry. Sobs in deep, broken whimpers into his hands, and Gaster continues to quietly talk to him, _this wasn’t your fault. You’ll be okay. I swear, I’ll find a way to bring your mages to you. Sloan is looking for you Sin, just hang on._

A hand reaches out, petting along his skull in a ghostly touch that only makes Sin cry harder. _It’s all right. You cry all you want Sin. I’m right here._

Finally, a tear stained face lifts from his hands, and Sin’s miserably looks around the empty baths, “Hello?” his voice is small and breaks, and it makes Gaster pause.

Could he…could he hear him a little?

 _Your okay Sin._ It’s a lie, but one that Sin needs right now.

Gaster doesn’t know what Sin can hear, but he blinks at the empty room and calms a little. He’s still panting hard and tears are still falling down his cheeks.

_Your name is Sin._

He licks his teeth, slowly gets himself under control, “My name is Sin.” He parrots, voice shaky.

_Good. That’s good. And your important._

“I’m important.” He whispers to himself, voice a little stronger.

_You are not a toy._

“I’m not a fucking toy.” He hisses to himself; he’s still shaking as he reaches for something to clean himself with.

_There are people who love you._

Sin pauses in what he’s doing, and a fresh cascade of tears slip free. A sob builds in his chest that Sin pushes down, his voice soft, “There are people who love me.”

_Good. Your name is Sin._

And Gaster swears, _swears,_ he’s going to bring the mages here if it’s the last thing he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sin has been stuck in his world for three days with Asgore violently trying to break him with sleep deprivation, torture and rape. He was sent to the bath house by Frisk where he was raped by the guard and then his Gaster.


	17. The Queen of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sin's terrible day continues as the mage's try to find their way too him, and player two enters the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Another Friday, another chapter, and I hope you enjoy. Sin's still trapped in his horrible universe, so please be sure to read to the warnings in this chapter and keep yourselves safe. There will again be a synopsis at the end of this chapter to fill you in on what has happened. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: description of rape/non-con elements, description of torture, mild description of death and worlds ending, description of mild body horror. Let me know if I have missed anything.

Recentred himself, Sin walks slowly behind two guards, he’s sluggish and too tired to fight back with all his hope drained from him like a blood vessel that’s been cut. He feels sick to his soul, and right now he wants to sleep. His body aches and his joints burn with every step, and Sin quietly locks away his agony as his long, terrible day continues.

His shoulders slump, and he shuffles along with his head down in defeat as he locks away his memories. He hallows himself out, cores himself like a piece of fruit, so no one can hurt him. They can’t hurt something that isn’t there, nor can they make him feel good. Sin locks himself away, buries himself in the dark graveyard in his mind where Gaster or Asgore or even Frisk couldn’t touch him.

He tries his best to prepare for what’s about to happen.

He put himself right next to the memories of Sloan and Nightmare, dark and deep inside, and he stares blankly at the spot just behind the guard’s feet. He follows the rhythm of catching a heel in his field of vision, and solid grey.

Something weird happened in the baths after that horrifying assault by Gaster. It was like something was there with him. Sitting next to him, telling him everything would be okay. It made Sin feel…okay about himself for a few minutes.

That, maybe he could survive his.

That maybe, someone was coming for him.

Whatever it had been, that soothing, comforting essences had allowed Sin to pull himself back together, rebuild those mental defences that Gaster had torn down, and allowed himself to go numb. Inwardly, Sin laughed. Chances were that soft, soothing presence was his mind fracturing, clinging to some old feeling of hope as his mind desperately tried to protect itself.

The guards lead him to a pretty side of the castle, where the walls were dotted with scented candles and stone pillars made of marble stretched to the ceiling in a show of unnecessary luxury. It was a long, exhausting walk from the baths to the bed chambers, one that Sin knew the guards elongated to humiliate him a little more. Parading his naked body around the castle for all too see, leaving no doubt what he was in anyone’s eyes. He was no longer the royal bounty hunter’s son, he nothing but a toy. Something to be used up until he had nothing left to give.

The guard’s lead him through the castle until they came to a hallway that was a dead end, save for heave, dark oak double doors. Sin feels fear try to claw at his soul, but he buries it quickly as it won’t serve him here.

The guards lead him to those doors, are quick step neatly aside them, and only then does Sin see that they have the same expensive, intricate carvings that the bathhouse had. Nothing but more luxuries the kingdom can’t afford. 

The two guards open the doors smoothly, like they’ve done this a thousand times, and the two guards at his back shove him inside. The rough hand at his shoulder blades almost make him stumble, makes him skip a step as he catches his balance as he walks inside the warm stone chamber.

Sitting on her bed in sheets made of silk, Queen Toriel frowns as Sin catches himself, and she’s just as he remembers her. Sin fights the heavy wave of horror that fills his chest at the sight of Toriel, thought that, once upon a time, they’d been friends. Long before all this horror, and he truly understood what their world was like, when the veil was pulled back and he was forced to see.

She’s wears a sheer purple dress that flirts on the side of being indecent, white fur plush and soft and her smile is gentler then it deserves to be.

“There’s no need for that.” Her voice is soft and commanding as ever, and it makes Sin see her in a horrible new light. Like he’s looking trough a cleaner lens and that he sees the real her.

This is not his friend. His friend wouldn’t have allowed her husband to rape him or do whatever she’s about to do to him.

_~~He had friends. Real friends. Powerful friends. He had healers, and demons and nightmares and killers. He had battle mages and Fell monsters, and a really pretty spell caster who cared a whole lot about him.~~ _

_~~He had people, people that would come for him, if that feeling in the baths was right and not just his mind playing tricks.~~ _

_~~Sin wasn’t alone, and that more then anything helped him steel himself for what was about to come.~~ _

The guard bows his apologise and flees in fear that he’d be in here next if he displeased the Queen, and Sin finds a spot on the wall to stare at. He refuses to acknowledge her gentle, steady gaze, ignoring Asgore as her side, heavy set and thick in in his royal wear, the material stiff and unyielding.

The kind of clothing Sin despised during his time in Asgore’s court.

Toriel pushes herself to stand and slow even steps bring her to Sin as her heavy paw reached for his chin in an attempt to make him look at her. He moves his skull to where she wanted him to look, but his eye lights stay focused on the spot on the wall.

He’s empty and cold, a decidedly boring toy. A thing that should not hold their attention, and really, they should just put him back _~~and let him sleep.~~_

“Oh Sans.” She sighs softly, and Sin refuses to flinch at her gentle touch even as her thick thumb brushes at his lower jaw, “It doesn’t need to be this way.”

Sin says nothing, his best defense against the pleasure she’s going to force on him. Be nothing, and nothing matters.

“Sans look at me.” Sin focuses on the spot on the wall like a lifeline, “We were friends once.”

Before a comment like that would have hurt, would have dredged up shitty memories of playful puns when he dared to flirt with the Queen, and drunken nights when they consumed too much wine between the two of them. Now, it’s not even a blip on his Richter scale, he didn’t even register the words and he certainly doesn’t feel anything about them.

_~~He wonders if Wine’s okay. He hopes Felix treats him right.~~ _

Toriel sighs, drawing him in for a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, the kind that would make your toes curl and a spiral of warmth crawl up his spine. Sin stares at the wall as his body goes on autopilot, and he kisses her back, eye lights wide and vacant, purely muscle memory.

He doesn’t close his sockets and stares intently at the wall.

“Sans.” She whispers softly against his skull, backing him up until the backs of his knees bump the bed, “Relax. Don’t be so upset.” Her voice is gentle as she pushes him down and back, following him down against the bed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She murmurs against his collar bone, and it makes him want to laugh bitterly.

Angerly.

Instead, Sin stares at the ceiling, feeling numb and detached as Asgore moves over his body. Toriel hisses softly at him, her soft paw catching his shoulder to push him down, “Not tonight Asgore.”

The King gives her a look, annoyed and bitter, before a slick layer of amusement rippled over his features, “Gently.” She whispered and encouraged her smiling husband back down to crouch between Sin’s knees.

Thick, heavy hands grasp at his femurs with the utmost care, and the mouth that presses against his bruised and aching echo flesh is velvety and warm. Soft lips curl around his clit make Sin arch and gasp, Toriel smiling at last to a reaction.

Pain was easier to manage. Pain was easier to compartmentalize.

Pleasure was something Sin was never able to suppress, and when Asgore’s clever mouth wrung the first, hot, unwanted orgasm from his body, Toriel was ever so smug. Even as he panted and glared, gritted is teeth as Asgore dipped his head back down again, mouth achingly gentle, his body betraying him with nothing more then physical stimulus and natural reaction.

The Kind and Queen picked him apart, bit by bit. Slowly and carefully, wearing him down with pleasure and he prayed for pain.

He prayed for his end when Toriel whispered against his sweating, over heated skull, “You respond so beautifully to pleasure Sans. I think this is what we will change your training session too. Something soft, you’ll come around.”

Sin grips the silk sheets, stares at the ceiling even as Asgore’s tongue presses inside softly, tasting him, chuckling against his echo flesh when he tastes the raw damage there and Toriel took his mouth, he thinks, _My name is Sin._

_-_

Watching through a shaft if dirty light from the veil, Gaster watches on in horror at what is being done to Sin yet again. A different kind of torture, but one that was far more effective on him if the half sob he choked back was anything to go by.

Still, Gaster refused to leave him. He wouldn’t. If his Den or his Crew couldn’t be here, then Gaster could be. Would help him pull together the pieces of his shattered mind and rebuilt the walls of his mental defenses.

Once they allowed him to sleep, and Gaster lulled him into an unease rest, he’d find a way to rip through the blockage that Chara had erected around this world. He would find a way to bring Sloan and her fierce battle mage brother and sister here and rescue this monster.

Gaster frowned, refusing to look away as Sin choked back another bitter cry of pleasure and emotional agony, his hands balling into the sheets as Toriel cooed softly at him in a mockery of a lover.

Evil bitch that she was.

Nightmare had been so close to the tare, the tiny ripple in the space time continuum that even the shield had bent around. The barely knitted closed tare that Chara had ripped open to allow the other _him_ to come through to Sloan’s world. Nightmare couldn’t tare open new holes, but if he had just found that damaged spot, it was just _there,_ the shield wouldn’t have mattered. 

It wasn’t Nightmare’s fault, no, of course not. Finding that tiny tare was a million to one shot, there, but just out of his field of view.

Gaster knew where to find that crack, that tare, if only he could get the message to the others. If _only._

There’s a flash of cold behind him and Gaster shivers.

“You know,” Chara’s voice is mocking and cruel as she steps next to him, “I got this idea after watching your son shatter after Oliva fucked him.”

Fury sparks, and Gaster turns with magic sparking weakly at his fingers, “I’ll kill you.” He says it like a promise, an oath that makes Chara laugh.

“Of course you will.” She mocks. She taps the side of her chin with a melting finger, “But I do wonder what it will take to make him break. I mean, Toriel and Asgore are doing a fabulous job. And that shit his father did to him?” Chara laughs, “Piece de resistance.”

Gaster glares coldly at Chara, the cruel little bitch turning to the scene before them, grinning as Asgore climbs over Sin’s trembling body, easing gently between his legs, “I wanted this to be Sans.” She muses aloud, and Gaster lets her talk, studies her like the scientist he once was. Looking for anything to use against her, “Your son is an annoying little fucker who always ruined my fun. He always saved Frisk, somehow. No matter how horrific his death, it always seemed to be his death that made Frisk wake up enough to reset. No matter how traumatized he was, he always loved her like a little sister. I hated him.”

Gaster can see Chara is swollen with power, _magic_ , and frowns. Where was she getting this? 

Her face darkened, “But when Frisk found a way to get her bitch of a sister, that ruined everything. He’s so well protected. That fucking Den’s magic layered on so thick, I can’t even get near him without taking damage. I can’t even tare open portals around him without being affected.”

Her head tips, and Gaster’s sockets narrow as she continues with a smile, “But these monsters? No one cares about these monsters. No one cares about this version of Sans, and it might not be as satisfying to watch him break apart as it would be if it were your son, but this is a close second.”

It wasn’t true, there were a lot of people and monsters who care about Sin.

“And I’m going to have so much fun breaking them all apart. Sin is only a taste. Just imagine what Asgore will do to Red once he’s home. Or the Frisk of Crow’s world? Or Undyne in Gore’s? I don’t even have to touch any of them to hurt them. Their own people will do that for me.” She sounds in awe of it all, the simplicity of her own plan.

Gaster contains his rage, checks it with cool logic. He won’t allow this to happen, “And where do you think you’re going to get the power to rip open portals like that?” 

Chara is smiling at the scene before her, pleased as she stares through the veil as they wring another unwanted orgasm out of Sin and Gaster is disgusted by her delight. It doesn’t stop her from talking, sounding far too pleased with herself and the horror she’s caused, “Error and Reaper have been busy.” She sounds breathless and amused, “They’ve been picking up the slack in Nightmare’s absence and collapsing failing universes.”

She sighs, and seems to crave the terror she’s causing, “And all that ambient magic has to go somewhere.”

Gaster feels his mouth curl as disgust fills him, “That magic is supposed to be repurposed for the creation of new worlds, not for you to play with.”

Chara shrugs, uncaring of the lives she was ruining, the monsters she was breaking, the worlds she was preventing from forming, and Gaster is sickened by the delight on her face as she watches what happening to Sin.

She laughs when Sin breaks a little, crying out when Asgore reaps his pleasure, Nightmare’s name gasped out in a choking gurgle as Toriel tries to sooth him.

The fury hits a boiling point, and Gaster is certain that he’s never felt this depth of emotion, never felt resentment that he could taste it on the back of his tongue.

Gaster was a creature of cool logic, clear thoughts, and concise plans. He wasn’t a creature of emotion, had a hard time expressing his love to his children when they had been younger, but he had _tried_. He did everything he could to ensure that Sans and Papyrus knew they were loved, held their hands, hugged them, soothed them when they were afraid. He had been the best father he could have been for them, despite his discomfort for expressing emotion.

No, Gaster was a creature of logic and planning; he had never experienced extreme emotion, never knew it for the tool it could be. With ice cold rage in his shattered soul, Gaster gathered void magic, pulled it in tightly with a viciousness that Gaster felt heat through his cold, broken body.

He summoned a hand of solid white bone oozing black void magic from its joints, unsteady and unreliable. It had been years since he could summon something so solid, so real within the void and Gaster knows he needs to move fast. If he gives Chara even a whiff of what he’s about to do, this half thought through idea, she’ll flee and Gaster isn’t sure if he’ll be able to muster this much emotion again to weaponize it.

The hand shoots forward, punctures through the void magic that keeps Chara together to wrap his hand around her melting soul. Her head whips around, horror in her eyes and when her mouth parts, black ooze drips down her jaw, “What are you doing!”

Gaster says nothing, uses that summoned limb as a conduit, digs his fingers with a disgusting squelch into her corrupted soul as her faces contorts into rage, “Let go!” she hisses.

Ignoring her, Gaster does the only thing he can, does it quick and with methodical precision, and pulls at the stollen magic with all he could. Chara’s eyes go wide, maw falling open in horror as Gaster yanks the magic forward and into his own, shattered soul.

Chara shrieks as the magic, heavy and swollen, drains from her broken body like a glass of water being turned upside down, and Gaster stole it. Drained her quickly and shivered at the power that fills his body.

He trembles as he dismisses the summoned hand and stumbles back, unsteady on his feet as the weird creation magic fills him, and he feels the pieces of his shattered soul pull back together. Chara collapses, panting hard on all fours and can barely lift her head to snarl, “Fucker.”

Gaster doesn’t stick around to risk her stealing it back, and with one last, mournful look to Sin, he flees. His body dissolves into shadows and void goop, the agony from all that power only amplifies his pain all the more as he runs. His shattered body is brimming in stolen magic, hot and dense, and Gaster runs back to the few shafts of light of his own universe. The places where he can take small glimpses into his son’s lives and forces his way through one of those shafts of light.

It burns and scalds his magic, it bubbles painfully, but the stolen magic forms around his soul and solidifies into something real as Gaster is reborn.

Disoriented, he falls through the void, lands painfully in the soft green grass on a warm near summer day. Over head the sky is blue, lazy clouds drift over head, the tree in the mages yard is large and its leaves are bright green. It’s a wonderful, warm day, peaceful, and Gaster thinks it’s a perfect day to wage a war.

Pushing himself up onto shaky, newly formed legs, Gaster knows he needs to hurry. Sin doesn’t have much time and his only hope are in the three-story compound filled with demons and nightmares and killers.

Taking a breath, Gaster braces for his first painful step, fire racing up his body made of stolen magic, and he makes for the mage’s front door.

-

Felix leans back in his chair with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes as they ache from staring at the pages of a book for so long, and his justice soul throbs in pain. They need to get to Sin, Fate only knows what the fuck has been happening to him since his kidnapping.

Gold eyes glance to Nightmare as the monster is buried into his own book next to Sloan. His brows furrowed like they had been since they’ve all started pouring over book after book, trying to find something that would allow them to break through the shield.

Squinting at the monster next to his sister, Felix frowns, and has a feeling that Nightmare knows more then he’s telling them. Not necessarily hiding something, but protecting something, protecting Sin probably or at least his reputation. It made Felix nervous, and unease shifts in his soul.

If whatever were happening to Sin was making Nightmare nervous, it would do well to take that into consideration that whatever they were walking into, was going to be bad. It made him think that something really bad was happening to Sin while the rest of them were helpless to save him.

He glanced to the bags near the front door, one for he, Lilith and Sloan, the members of the assault team and wonders if he should go get the explosives, just in case.

Or maybe, and this might be a bit of over kill, the dragon fire.

“Felix?” a small voice, rough with exhaustion, draws Felix’s eyes to Wine at his side. He instantly feels better to see the shorter monster next to him, knowing that he, at least, was safe, “Would you like some water?”

Helpless not to smile at him, Felix softens a little at Wine’s voice, “Sure. Thanks.”

Felix watches as Wine pours him a cool glass of water, before shifting his chair closer to the mage so that their legs brush. Felix wants to pull him against his side, just hold him and know that Wine was okay. That he wasn’t trapped someplace dark and awful, and he just wanted to put hands on Wine to confirm that. 

Felix keeps his hands to himself, and instead fusses with the blanket that he draped over Coffee when he passed out at the table when he couldn’t read one more word. Felix can do that at least, ensure Coffee is warm, and he’s hardly the first one that is deep in sleep from pushing so hard.

Sans has fallen asleep as well, using Lilith’s thigh as a pillow, while Red used the opposite thigh for the same purpose. They’re both laying sideways in their chairs, nearly falling off as they stretch out onto either side of her lap, the books they were going through abandoned on the table. The only way you’d know either of them were still in the seemingly empty spaces on either side of Lilith was the fact her hands were on their shoulders to keep them from falling off.

She only unlatched a hand from one of their bodies to turn the page of her own book before it moved back under the table to hold onto them.

Glass had fallen asleep as well, his face planted in his book as he snored softly, Lola at his side, her hand on his lower spine to keep him up right, and Felix can’t help the wash of sorrow in his soul. He refuses to look at Sloan and let her get even a whiff of the fact that Felix is starting to worry they’re not going to find a way through the portal. He won’t break her heart like that, but if they don’t catch a break soon, Felix isn’t sure they’re going to.

Wine reaches out to take his hand suddenly, as if he can sense Felix’s worry, clawed fingers threading through Felix’s and Wine gives him a helpless, worried smile. It makes Felix’s soul throb hard, and he wants to believe that they’ll win this, “We’ll find something.”

Wine’s voice is so fragile, so uncertain, that Felix can’t be the one to break that delicate thread of hope, “Yeah.” Maybe if he believes hard enough, they will find something, maybe Fate will throw them a bone, “Something’s gotta go our way.” His voice doesn’t waiver, and he can’t help but feel a little better when Wine grins back at him.

Wine gives him a little laugh, rough and tired, and Felix can’t help but think of how much the Crew has been through in the last few weeks, “Hope would say to stay determined.”

Such simple words and Felix can’t help but smile back at him, soothed at least. Knows that the girls are safe with Toriel until they find Sin, “Yeah, Frisk would say the same.”

Felix only realizes how close they are when he feels Wine’s breath ghosting over his lips, suddenly realizes that he’s the one who’s leaned in close, and if he leaned in a little further, he could kiss Wine. No one has noticed them; they’re all absorbed into their books and Wine isn’t pulling away.

He’s never kissed a monster, and Felix thinks it would be different then when Lilith kisses Sans, Wine’s teeth are far sharper, but fuck it, Felix’s got the healing trait.

Felix is just starting to think this is a bad idea, that he should pull away when Wine leans in a little closer, looking just as tired and stressed as Felix feels. This isn’t a good idea, this is clearly the wrong time, but Wine has Felix’s hand, and the mage is helpless but to stay put.

Neither of them say any thing, leaning just a little closer when the door bell rings.

They spring apart, as if nothing happened when the others all look up and towards the door, and Felix feels heat scald at his face. Wine looks just as annoyed, even when no one else realizes what they had been about to do, and the doorbell rings again.

They don’t break their gaze, holding it tightly and they both know what had been about to happen, caused, if Felix cared to rationalize it, by the stress of what was happening and how close they’d been.

If Felix is honest with himself, he wants to kiss Wine anyways, and if his tired but strong gaze is anything to go by, so does he.

The doorbells rings again, waking everyone who had been deep in sleep and with a sigh, Sans mutters, “I’ll get it.” Rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

Wine quickly turns away from Felix, a blush on his face as Sans shuffles past, giving his arse a good scratch as he does so and throws Felix a dark and amused look as he moves past. Huffing a sigh, Felix is quick to down his water in a desperate bid too cool his heated cheeks, thinking that Sans is a brat and Felix should push him in the lake again.

Once everything was normal again and they got Sin back.

_~~Felix changed his mind. Fuck Fate. They were going to find a way to bring him home, so help him.~~ _

Setting down his empty glass, Felix sighs, intent to go back to his book and find _something_ to break through a fucking shield. Really, it’s not like they hadn’t broken through shields before, this shouldn’t be so fucking hard.

Except, that it was.

Felix pushes that thought away, glances helplessly to Wine and wonders what he would do to get him back. What hoops would he jump through, what tasks would he complete, and quests would he go on?

The list of what he wouldn’t do was far shorter and much more manageable.

The sound of Sans’s sob draws everyone’s attention up, and Lilith’s eyes harden into something far more vicious as her eyes go solid black and a sword shimmers into existence at her shoulder. Its enough to make Felix react with a snarl, the demon in his own soul purring with the taste of violence as his own axe is summoned low in his hand.

The battle mages stand, moving as if they were of a hive mind, and Lilith’s voice is cold when she orders the others to stay put as they quickly align themselves into a two-man assault team. Felix in the front, Lilith two steps back and one to the left; they stay low, keeping their center of gravity more stable as they moved quietly for the front door. 

They move on swift, silent feet through the halls of their home, the kitchen falling even quieter as they slip away, everyone going still at the potential threat. There’s a quiet tension from Lilith and Felix as they move quickly, staying low until they come to the front door, and Lilith feels a brief pulse of fear at what they might find.

If Sans is hurt, Lilith swears she’ll tare who ever hurt him apart. Not again, _never_ again, she won’t fail him.

They come around the corner and fall still, Lilith falls out of her tense posture, straightening up and cocks her head. Felix crouched lower, axe still in hand and ready to attack when Lilith’s hand falls slowly to his shoulder.

Shock rocks Lilith too her core, and she squeezes at her brother’s shoulder as it washes over her, “Fuck.” She sounds in awe, shaken by a sight that should not exist.

Felix is still on guard, not soothed by his sister’s shock, if anything it makes him coil tighter, ready to defend his Den and Lilith when she was too stunned to fight.

In the doorway, with the mid morning light shining happily through the tree in their yard, is a monster Felix had never seen before. Tall and made of thick, viscous goop, way too many hands and a scared skull that looked like Sin.

The newcomer is on his knees, arm wrapped tightly around Sans’s smaller form and squeezing for all his worth, shadowy arms nearly swallowing Sans with how tightly he held on.

Felix snarls, chokes up on his axe and gets ready to attack, held only in place by Lilith’s hand tight on his shoulder, “Lilith, who the fuck is this?”

“It’s the man who pulled me from the void.” She says, stunned and voice low, still in awe at what she was seeing.

Sans turns, still clinging to the monster in their doorway, tears sparkling at his sockets and his teeth tremble, “It’s my dad.”

Gaster looks up at the two mages, holds his son tightly, desperately, and grateful to hold his oldest, selfishly thankful that Sans wasn’t the one that was trapped in a horrible universe with horrible people. There was still a monster who wore Sans’s face trapped there, a man that was slowly being broken down and dehumanized, and they didn’t have much time.

“We must hurry.” He rasps quietly, clinging to Sans just a little tighter, and the mages share a look, “Sin needs you.” He risks glancing down to Sans and frowns.

“You know what’s happening to him?” Lilith asks quietly from behind Felix, the harsh lines of her face softening with hope.

The look of grief is soul deep on Gaster’s face when he glances to Sans before he looks back to the mages, “I have a horror story to tell you.” He informs them quietly, holding onto Sans, “They are doing horrendous things to Sin, and we haven’t much time.” His voice is shaky and uncertain as his throat thickens with emotion.

Felix glances up to Lilith, eyes still hard and angry, “You trust him?”

The question makes Lilith slowly release a soft breath, “I do.” She says quietly, because this had been the man that rescued her from the void, when he could have left her to fall until she starved, “but even if I didn’t, what choice do we have?”

It’s not the response that Felix wants, but it’s one he’ll accept. This is hardly the first time they had worked with people they didn’t fully trust and for much less.

Felix sighs, “Awe shit. Fine.” He shoulders his axe and gives Gaster a bright, crooked grin, “Well, you did save my sister, that gives you an in.” the grin widens, “But I’ll kill you myself if you betray us.”

Lilith is unflinching even as Sans turns to give Felix a stunned look. Gaster’s head tilts and he clings to his eldest, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

It sets something at ease inside Felix and makes him grin, “Well all right then. Come on in, I’ll make some coffee.”

It’s as much of a peace offering from the battle mages as anything else, and for the first time in three days, Felix feels a spark of hope.

Quietly, as Sans shakily leads his father into the kitchen, Felix thanks all the Fates for giving them their break.

The rest was up to them.

\- 

Sin wakes up on a cold, stone floor and isn’t sure if its still day three or day four. Doesn’t really matter, he supposes. Its all the same, and he groans when he shoves himself upward, feeling achy and sore, violated despite how Toriel scrubbed him clean after her ‘training session’.

His bones were glossy white, thick and healthy looking and Sin hates it, it makes his soul turn sour. He leans back against the wall at his spine, looks at his bones that were too clean, hating himself and wonders how he could dirty up his body just to piss Toriel off.

He shifts, feels the ghost of an inappropriate touch and it makes him cringe. He would have rather stayed filthy then allow Toriel to touch him anymore then she had.

Eh well, he fucking gave her a good bite, drew blood from the hand that feeds and the bitch deserved it.

He took a breath, and slowly, ever so slowly, began to rebuild his mental walls when the door to his cell opens and Sin plasters on a grin. Nothing bothers him, nothing can hurt him here. 

Nothing can touch him.

Not even Asriel as he stepped into his cell, face scrunched tight with disgust as he looks at Sin with distain, Sin’s cloths folded neatly in hands that were far too much like his mothers. Sin buries the pulse of fear in his soul as hard as he can and plasters on a bright, mocking grin, “Your Highness.”

The mock politeness is like acid on his tongue as he carefully pulls himself backwards and up onto the cot chained to the wall. The mattress giving a little as he nearly collapses onto it, and Sin refused to sigh in relief to just get off the ground. 

Asriel’s eyes flash with fury at his insolence. Still, armed with ridged politeness, Asriel neatly set his cleaned cloths down onto his cot before he takes a step away, clasping his hands behind his back. The silk of his tunic slides smoothly over his fur, the yellow delta rune bright against the purple material, his voice cold when he addresses Sin, “Dress.”

Sin grins at the order, bright and amused, “Why?” he elongates the sound of the ‘y’ to make it more childish and irritating.

Asriel isn’t amused, “We’re leaving.” He’s told coldly as green eyes narrow. 

Sin’s eye lights glitter with bitterness, “Where we go’n?” he hasn’t moved to do as he’s told, stays limp against the wall with a bright, bitter grin.

Unmoving, Asriel’s scowl deepens, “The war room.” The smug look falls from Sin’s face slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion, “Our contact is going to reopen the portal to the world we found you in. You’re going to tell us about the inhabitants. What sort of resistance we will meet? What weaknesses do they have?”

Sin blinks up at him before he laughs. It’s something high and bitter, and cruel, “Suck my dick.”

He wasn’t betraying his Crew.

_~~Did he just call the Den of mages his Crew?~~ _

_~~Fuck it, yeah he did.~~ _

Asriel sighs, his face cold irritation, “You always were more trouble then you were worth Sans. Too pretty a face that hid a wretched personality.”

The insult doesn’t faze him, fuck, the last three days, maybe four days, he’s been tortured and raped, a few mean words were going to break him, “I know you are, but what am I?” he mocked, just to see the tick of irritation in Asriel’s eye.

Asriel sighed again, slow, even steps bring him to Sin’s cot, his knees pressing in between Sin’s to force them apart. Inwardly he sighs, _here we go again._

Still, despite how his stomach feels like its plummeted, and his soul throbs in icy panic, Sin buries it all and plasters on a smile, “Awww, wanna be just like mommy?”

The snarl that rumbles through Asriel’s chest lets Sin know he hit his mark and he smug about it as he grins up at the Prince. A thick, heavy hand grabs him by the throat and pins him to the wall, pressing him against it, Asriel’s thick, heavy body pressing inward awkwardly as he pins Sin to the cot.

Sin laughs, smirk taking an edge of madness to it, “Or maybe you want to be like daddy, my mistake.” He rasped around the hand at his throat, his own hands wrapping around the thick wrist.

Asriel’s other hand lands heavily on his pelvis, right at his pubic symphysis, his thumb pressing gently against it, “No Sans. My mother likes to break her slaves by weaponizing their own pleasure. My father prefers to reap his own. I just like to hear you scream.”

Sin doesn’t have time to register the cold dread, not before Asriel presses as hard as he can, summoning magic to increase the pressure at his pubic symphysis until the magic cartilage gave and snapped. Sin goes ramrod straight as he hears the crack, feels the left side of his pelvis press inwards while the right juts out.

His cry of agony is swallowed back so that only a strangled groan slips past his teeth, but Asriel looks smug non the less as he steps back. Agony burns like fire through Sin, and all he can do is try desperately to control his breathing as he feels the flood of marrow and magic from between his legs, bleeding from the split bones.

“Get dressed.” Asriel says again, sounding bored despite the cruel grin over his mouth, the pleased look in his eyes. 

Sin obeys, slowly pulling his crisp, white shirt from the pile and pulls it over his head. Pain burns through him with every move, it makes his vision swim and darkness creep in at the edges of his sight. Still, he runs his mouth, “Yeah, well. I bet you’re a shit lay anyways. I’ll put good G down that your dad’s dick is bigger.”

Asriel snorts, as Sin reaches for his pants, and it’s a new kind of hell putting on those tight black jeans with a broken pelvis, but at least they hold the bones in place. “My Princess doesn’t seem to think so. I can maker her scream all night long.”

He’s so fucking smug, and Sin can’t help but look up at him with a grin as he pulls on a boot, “Oh, that’s not all that hard.”

The back hand he got for that one was worth it.

Picking himself, Sin wipes the blood from his jaw with a grin. He calmly reaches for his other boot, his body screaming at him to stop moving but he pushes through it as Asriel sneers at him, “You pathetic little shit. You are nothing. Nothing but a cunt to be used until there is nothing left to give.”

Pulling on his jacket, Sin’s smugly grins up at him, “I know you are but what am I?”

The second back hand was equally as worth the first.

Licking blood from his teeth, Sin smirks up at Asriel as he grabs him by the back of his neck and hauls him to his feet. Sin swallows the small cry of pain that wants to spill from his teeth as he tries to take a step, his knees buckling under his own weight to send him spilling to the floor.

His vision blacks out when Asriel gives him a sharp kick to his pelvis, jarring his broken bones, and that one got a small, pained noise out of him. “Get up.” Asriel is cruel and brutal, his voice sneering and condescending.

Sin spits a clot of marrow the floor and blinks his vision clear. Using the slimy, dirty stone wall he pulls himself upward, tilting his head to the smug fucker at his back, “My friends will come for me.” He says suddenly, isn’t even sure how he knew that with such certainty, “And you have no idea what they’re capable of. What they are going to do, when they get here.”

Asriel doesn’t look threatened by his words, just irritated and bored, “And they’ll each end up in chains with you.”

Sin laughs, it’s a little on the crazed side and he looks smugly to Asriel, “You keep telling yourself that.” Because Sin _knows_ they won’t leave him here to die. Nightmare won’t, and maybe he doesn’t know the reason they haven’t come yet, but he knows they will.

That new, fresh thought gives him a flush of warm hope to cling to as he hobbled to the war room. No doubt the Kind and Queen would be there, fresh of their shower after their night of torturing him. Acting as if what they did to him was fine. Their advisors and generals would be there too, the entire chain of command of the monster kingdom all in once place, and Sin wished he had some power to kill them all.

Instead, he clings to his newfound hope, and limps to the war room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chara has been stealing creation magic from Reaper and Error destroying failing worlds to create the portal and the shield. Gaster steals it from her soul to recreate his body to get to the Crew and the Den to tell them about Sin, and where to find the tare. 
> 
> Sin continues to be tortured and raped by Toriel, Asgore and Asriel.


	18. Lets Plan a Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Den and the Crew have heard Gaster's story, they know what's happening to Sin. 
> 
> All they need to do now, is plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Here is a SUPER early chapter that was going to be posted next Friday, but I'm so excited for chapter 19 and 20 to come up, that I'm posting this one early. Chapter 19 should be ready to go by Friday, Saturday at the latest. 
> 
> I'm also posting this one early to ask you, the reader, a question! 
> 
> I have this story, for the most part, planned out almost to completion. There will be a few things that will change, things have already changed, but the main plot points will remain. But I keep going back and forth one one thing, and that's Red and Edge's relationship. I keep flip flopping back and forth between what the nature of their relationship is, and it's time for me to make a judgment call. So tell me dear readers, do you want to see some Fellcest? 
> 
> There is a Survey Monkey poll that I have set up, here; https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/WYMJN3K to tell me what you think. I have plans for both, and reactions just change based on what I decided, but I'm curious about what you all think. So if you want to take a moment to vote, I would appreciate it! :) 
> 
> Otherwise dear readers, take a look at this chapters warnings, and come one in. :) 
> 
> WARNINGS: broken bones, description of branding, description of a beating, mild description of torture.

Lilith is utterly still, eyes wide as she clings to Sans’s hand, her fingers threaded through his as her mate trembles next to her. She risks a glance to him, and her soul pulses in pain at his carefully blank look as he looks down at his knees.

Sans’s eye lights are barely lit, and his jaw is clenched so tightly, Lilith is surprised he hasn’t cracked a tooth. Despite his too carefully controlled expression, Lilith can feel the fear rolling off her mate in thick, heavy waves.

He’s afraid, so very afraid of what Gaster has just told them, doesn’t even have the time to process that his father is fucking alive before he unloaded _that_ story onto them, and Lilith doesn’t blame him for fear one bit.

She also doesn’t have the time to be what Sans needs her to be. Not right now, not when Sin needed them more. She needed to be what Sin needed in this moment, even when she herself feared what she would have to become.

Her LV and her vice rumble in their cages, delighted at this turn of events and it’s like they _know_ what happens next. Lilith shoves it all down, strengthens the metal walls that hold all the darkness inside, and refuses to fall to their siren call so easily.

She pulls Sans’s chair over closer to hers, her arm going over his shoulders as she pulls him to her side. Sans allows it to happen passively for a moment, gives himself that short breath for a reprieve as he presses into Lilith’s body and lets that breath out in a slow, easy exhale.

When he does look up, his eye lights brighten and the fear melts a little into firm determination, “I’m fine.” He mutters softly to her. Around them in their quaint little kitchen that has suddenly become their war room, the Den and the Crew are in stunned silence, and no one seems to want to be the one to break the moment.

Lilith frowns at Sans, worries about him, ready to call him out on his bullshit when he continues, “We need to get to Sin. We can’t,” he pauses, looks up at her with a terrible mixture of horror and rage, not knowing what to do about either of those feelings, “We need to get him.” Yellow swells in his eye lights with emotion, with anger that someone dare touch one of theirs. 

It’s the conviction in his voice that helps something dark unwind a little from Lilith’s soul, to know that Sans was okay, or at least, would be okay. It makes something sinister and cruel inside her soul purr in satisfaction that, yeah, her baby was tough as nails, and was ready to go throw hands despite his own terror. Sans was the Judge and was so for a reason.

Sans would bury his own trauma for one of his people, and that bitch Chara was hurting one of theirs.

Pressing a kiss to his skull, lightly between his sockets, Lilith hopes Sans knows how loved he is, how cherished, and Lilith can’t even begin to imagine what Sloan is feeling right now.

She dares to glance up to her sister, to Sloan, who’s pretty face has gone stone cold with fury and her eyes are solid black with rage. Dark blue magic crackles at her fingers, as if they itch to strangle those who dare touch what she laid claim on, and if nothing else, Lilith will deliver that much to Sloan.

Next to her Nightmare’s body ripples with agitation, his mouth is clenched tightly shut and full of fangs back lit by bright, angry azure light. His eye light is unsteady and as sharp as his tentacles that rattle angrily around him, and a thin light of magic is bright at the centre of his chin.

Lilith has seen him do that a few times now, but never actually see it split. It’s a silly thing to consider at the moment, and she quickly pushes the thought away as she pulls Sans a little tighter to her side, “We’re going to get him back.” She whispers to him, clinging onto him as tightly as he hangs on to her.

Sans nods with the same determination, the fear leaking from him as it’s replaced with something darker as blue swirls with the yellow in his eye lights.

Lilith watches him for a moment, watches that magic swirl in his eye lights with fresh anger, and even then she still thinks he’s the prettiest monster. Beautiful in his own, weird way, despite his baggy cloths and slouching posture, to her at least, Sans would always be pretty.

_~~She doesn’t need to imagine what it would be like to lose him, to fail him. She did that once already. Lost him underground, in a hot, secret room where someone hurt him. Abused him, because they thought it was her right.~~ _

_~~Lilith doesn’t know how Sloan is holding up as well as she is. Lilith had been frantic when she lost Sans for a handful of minutes, Sin has been missing for three full days.~~ _

_~~Her vice presses heavily against the walls of its box and that merciless thing inside is unwinding. Leaking out to poison her soul, and its with a twist of old memories that Lilith can taste violence on her tongue. Like in the days of the war, when they were prepping themselves to march to what could easily have been their deaths, and buy into the fact that was okay.~~ _

_~~That dark, cruel fury that helped her survive the war was leaking from its carefully made cage and Lilith may not know exactly what would happen when they crossed the portal and into Sin’s world, but she was certain of two things. They would find Sin, and they would get their hands bloody to do it.~~ _

Giving herself a good hard shake, Lilith pulls herself out of that dark, cold place in her soul, and drops another kiss to Sans’s skull, holding him a little tighter. She just needs to touch him for a moment, to know that he’s right there, and not in some dark, dank world where people were hurting him.

Sans goes along with it willingly, allows Lilith to hold him tight, and knows that she needs to right now. He knows she needs to hold him as much as he needs to hold her, “I know.” He whispers back, and finally looks around the table.

Frowning, he gives a little nod to Lilith’s left, drawing crimson eyes to Red, and Lilith sighs a little. As much as they claim Sin as one of theirs, he was the Crew’s first.

Red is starting at the table with eye lightless sockets, mouth pulled into a pained grimace, and if he could have lit the table of fire with his fierce, angry gaze, he would have. As much as Red was the muscle of Nightmare’s little rag tag group, he was also the one to make sure everyone came home alive.

Even from where she sat, Lilith could see the guilt and self blaming already burning Red up inside. Could see it in the tight line of his shoulders and the way his claws dug into the wood of the breakfast table, leaving little curls of wood stuck to the bone.

Lilith takes a breath, and carefully pries one of those hands up and off the table, and still clinging to Sans, she threads her fingers through Red’s. He freezes at her gentle touch, empty sockets swinging up to her with a jerk, as if he were surprised that she was touching him at all, but his grip is extremely gentle. As if he’s afraid to hurt her.

It’s an endearing gesture despite Lilith’s healing trait, and it makes Sans smile a little. 

**“** We’re going to get him back.” She parrots the words to Red, this time with more conviction as Lilith starts to believe the words.

The darkness in her soul purrs despite how she holds it back, does her best to not let Red see it.

Red stares back at her with dark, empty sockets, mouth of sharp teeth pulled into a miserable line of helpless fury, and Lilith holds his gaze. She’s unflinching under his anger and sockets as dark as the void, but Red can’t keep up with his rage.

Red’s eye lights come back slowly into small, hard dots floating in the endless void of his sockets and his shoulders slump helplessly. As much as Red was doing better, he _had_ been near death, starved of magic and fighting a serious infection no more then two and a half weeks ago. Add to that, he took a blast from Nightmare’s flood of depression, and it added up to Red still recovering from a traumatic incident with low magic.

He doesn’t have the energy to maintain his anger, not now and they both know it.

Just as they both know that Red’s going to have to stay home, regardless of how he feels about it and he’s not happy about it. He looks away first, eye lights dropping away helplessly, his hand limp in Lilith’s but he doesn’t pull away. He gives her an angry, helpless nod, looking more exhausted then Lilith remembers seeing him, and he slumps against her, his skull falling to the side of her shoulder.

“When was the last time you slept?” Lilith asks him softly so that only he and Sans could hear.

Red shrugs, making Sans snort before he answers for Red, “Like an hour last night, and the twenty minutes on your lap.”

Lilith sighs as Red tilts his head to glower at Sans, as if _he_ were the traitor here, “It’s creepy that you know that.” He sneers.

Sans shrugs, looking over to Edge on his other side with a frown, “Not like your subtle about it dude.” And Lilith is delighted to know that she wasn’t the only one keeping tabs on these two, good to know that Sans is as well.

A shame she can’t send Red to bed, not that he would fucking listen to her anyways.

Helplessly, Lilith follows Sans’s line of sight next to him, frowns when she sees Edge’s look of distress as well, knows that it’s one of Edge’s people that’s being tortured. She can see it in the way he’s tightly coiled, the way his face is blank, but his eye lights burn like dying stars.

He’s too far away suddenly, too out of reach, and it makes something burn through Lilith uncomfortably. Instinct is demanding that he be closer, be safer in range of her protection in case they were under attack.

It’s an odd feeling, one that Lilith has felt before with Sans, but with a deep breath she shoves the feeling down to silence that need to keep them all safe.

Sans must have the same feeling, or sense that she needs something from him, and reaches out to take Edge’s hand as well. He needs to lean away from her, making that ruthless and protective thing shift angrily inside her chest, to peel Edge’s hand away from his elbow.

Edge’s head snaps angrily to Sans at the light, unexpected touch, flinching away when he wasn’t anticipating the light fingers at his hand. Sans just gives Edge a bland grin and pulls his hand back towards he and Lilith, pulling that large, clawed hand towards his chest and Edge is helpless but to let it happen.

Sans pulls his arm under Lilith’s and his hand to his chest as Sans settles back in against Lilith’s side, forcing Edge to shift his chair closer to Lilith’s. Their long legs slot in next to each other, and that settles that dark coil in Lilith’s chest.

This is better, safer, she has all three of them close to her and their safe. Pulled in close like this, its better to protect the three of them, and that settles her instinct. Lilith doesn’t think too much on what that means, or why she and Sans are so fond of the brothers, not right now. Not when Sin is lost, and they have a chance to get him back.

Still, there’s something comforting to have Sans against her side, Red’s hand in hers and Edge’s bigger hand in Sans’s.

Lilith shoves it away, pulls her eyes away from Edge and Sans, doesn’t think how good they look together, and looks around the table at the others.

Next to Red, Wine is staring blankly at the table, the same cold fury etched into his features as the others, his hand curled around Felix’s wrist as if he were afraid Felix would be next if he let go. Not that Felix would have to worry if someone tried to take him, not with the white hot rage that radiated off of him and Lilith doesn’t doubt for a second that he’s ready to make someone hurt for this. 

Coffee is on Felix’s other side, hood pulled up to obscure his face, his long arms wrapped around his legs that were pulled up to his chest, he curled into a ball on the chair as he trembled. Felix’s gold eyes keep glancing to him in a mixture of hot fury and soul deep concern, and it looks as if Felix’s doesn’t know what to do with himself, fighting the urge to take Coffee’s hand.

Shaking her head Lilith looks to Lola, just on Coffee’s other side and her frown deepens. Lola has curled into herself, shoulders shaking with a deep, heavy sobs that she’s trying to fight back, her kindness soul aching at the story they had just heard. Lilith tries not to worry, this is hardly the first time they’ve been here, but Lola’s empathy has almost gotten her killed more then once.

Lilith’s eyes glance to Glass next to her, brows furrowed, and he looks like he wants to take her hand as well but looks too nervous to do it. Some weird cross between wanting to fall into the rage that is only starting to build in earnest as the shock wears off and wanting to give her some sort of comfort.

He ends up keeping his hands to himself but shrugs off his heavy bomber to drape helplessly around her shoulders. The orange coat swallows her tiny frame, but Lola clings to the edges as she curls a little further into herself, pulling the material up to her face to hide her breaking apart.

Lilith feels her soul echo her sisters hurt, singing to Lola’s pain, but Lilith doesn’t let it show on her face. No, they’re going to need Lola, and she needs a moment to fall apart so she can pull herself together.

Lilith lets her, and glances to Gaster, his broken face pulled into a sad, hurt look. He doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but what choice did he have? If anything, he’s given them a shot at getting Sin back, and that’s what Lilith clings too. She hangs on to facts, and the fact of the matter was, without Gaster, it could have taken them days to break the shield.

Days, Sin didn’t have.

Her eyes glide passed him to Papyrus, who’s tucked himself under Ryder’s arm, both looking miserable and angry, no different then anyone else.

Lilith pauses briefly at Papyrus’s distressed face, taking only a moment to register the sheer anger, rage that Lilith didn’t think she’d ever seen from him and wishes she could have protected him from this. Ryder’s eyes are flashing orange like a warning light, and she doesn’t doubt that he feels the same.

Undyne and Alphys are next to them, in the same state of shock but Lilith can see Undyne recovering faster. The anger is building, and her yellow eye is starting to darken with emotion that she’s trying to keep in check. Next to her is Sugar, he’s got Gore and Crow in his lap, sobbing openly into Gore’s shoulder as they try to comfort him to no avail.

It’s taken them days to get Sugar to a point he doesn’t panic at the sight of Undyne, days more to be in the same room and this is the first time he’s sat beside her. He’d looked hopeful and frightened of someone who wears his ex-best friends face before Gaster came to deliver his horrible story of abuse.

He’s back to hunching over and trying to make his impossibly large body as small as possible, and Undyne doesn’t want to scare him. She reels in her anger as tight as possible, but Lilith can see the muscle twitch in her jaw.

They lock eyes, for just a second, and Lilith doesn’t doubt for a moment what she’s remembering. The same memories that Lilith is fighting back, of a time when she found Sans, violated and broken by the hands of a bun who thought it was alright.

One who claimed that he wanted it, and the lasting damage could still be seen in the lines of his body, the way he still panicked at his heat and the nightmares.

They look away at the same time, and Lilith glances to Ripper last. He’s gripping onto his cane with a newfound fury, more tar like goo is pouring form his empty sockets as a fresh wash of ire rolls over him and the metal of his cane creaks with the strength in his grasp.

All around them, the Den and Crew are coiling tight with anger and rage. A wrath building so viciously, that it was a question of who would snap first, not when. Not with the story they just heard, and it was only a matter of time that the unbridled rage would boil over.

Felix never did have as careful control over his emotions as the others, could regulate them just about as well as Nightmare could on a good day, and right now it hit his tipping point. 

The flat palm of his hand slaps against the wood of the table so suddenly, the sound so sharp, that it makes the monsters in the room jerk in surprise, and Lilith inwardly sighs. Sans jerked under her arm, head snapping towards the sound with magic sparking at his fingers at the sudden sound and Red’s skull came off her shoulder with a hiss and an aborted move to put his frame between the noise and Lilith.

She doesn’t let go of either of them, knows in her heart that her brother would never do a thing to endanger their Den, knows that he can’t cope with all the anger inside and this is his tipping point.

He shoots out of his chair with fury in his eyes and a grimace curling on his mouth, his eyes fading from bright gold to solid black with a snarl, “Fucking Chara! It’s Chara’s fucking fault!”

Lola sobs harder, and Lilith sighs as Sloan glowers at their brother, her voice cold, “Sit down Felix.”

“No!” he spits at her, his anger quick to turn to her and the face of a demon flashes over his own with snarling teeth and hate in his eyes.

Sloan’s eyes stare back just as hard, just as dark and with just as much wrath. Usually that look alone is enough to quell even the monster inside, but not today as Felix snarls, “It was fucking Chara. We fucking beat that bag of fucks already, how the fuck is she winning? How the fuck did she get to Sin?”

Sloan makes the mistake of looking away first, something one should never do when faced with an angry demon, her voice softer, “I don’t know.”

Felix snarls, “That’s just fucking great.”

Lilith sneers when she sees Sloan flinch, feels the hair on the back of her neck raise and adrenaline flood her muscles and magic swell under her skin.

Across the table, before Lilith can tell Felix he’s way out of line, Ryder sighs and pulls Papyrus a little closer to his thick body, his thumb rubbing between his eyes, “Say fuck, one more time Felix. I’m sure it’s helping.”

Lilith rolls her eyes, because yeah, that’s helping, and is quick to cut off any more bickering before it gets ahead of them. They don’t have time for this, and Lilith needs Felix calm if this is going to work, “Felix.” Her voice has gone cold, and all emotion is tucked into its own box, away from the conflict as her expression smooths into unemotional, “Enough.” Her tone is hard enough that even the demon inside should know to stand down, to back off, “Stand down.”

Felix is too angry to see reason, sucked too far into his vice, instinct demanding that something be done to save their Den mate, his justice soul screaming at him, the demon agreeing that something must be done, all wrapped up in neat little bow of his vice, _vengeance._

He’s too blinded by his anger, coiled too tightly with fury and defeat, furious that on some level, he failed his Den mate. The same guilt that Sloan and Lilith both feel, and it’s all come to ahead, “Stand the fuck up Lilith.”

She feels something snap inside, something buried in a deep, dark place that only responses when Lilith feels any creeping threat. Right now, Sans and Red are too close to a furious battle mage, one that is clinging to his last threads of sanity, trying desperately to not take that last step into sheer darkness when the target of his fury wasn’t in range.

Lilith is on her feet so quickly that the chair she was sitting in tips back with a sharp clack against the linoleum with eyes the color of blood. It’s with cold precision that she pulls Red out of his chair by his arm, shoves him into Sans and steps between them and Felix.

Felix has done the same move with Wine, pressing the much smaller monster behind him so they can come toe to toe. Felix is a few inches taller than Lilith, but that means nothing as she steps into his personal space, back strait and unafraid as magic crackles around them in crimson and gold and the room goes still around them. Even Lola’s deep sobs have stopped, and despite the tears that stream down her face, her eyes flash bright green.

“I said stand down Felix.” Lilith orders coldly, voice devoid of feeling or life as a little more of that sweet darkness poisons her own soul, a darkness they had all worked very hard to contain and her LV shivers in delight like it used to in the war. 

“They have Sin, and its Chara’s fault. Our fault that we didn’t _kill her._ ” The last of his words come out rougher as the demon is super imposed over his face again, snarling teeth and massive spiralling horns, “That’s our fucking job. The one thing we’re supposed to do, eliminate the threat and this is why.”

Lilith doesn’t flinch back, this is her brother, her beloved little brother and she refuses to be afraid of him, “And getting angry about it isn’t going to help, now is it. Sit the fuck down.”

“This is our fault Lilith.” He sneers angrily at her, eyes solid black, and that, in all honestly, is the root of Felix’s anger, “Our fuck up cost _them._ Cost Sin, and you want to be fucking chill about it?”

Lilith’s mouth opens to defend, to say, that no, she’s not going to be chill about what’s happened, but they need to be smart if they want Sin back, when Wine’s very quite voice rings out sharp between them like a whistle being blown for a time out, “Felix.” Lilith’s teeth snap shut, but she doesn’t look away from her brother’s angry face, “Please sit down.”

Lilith doesn’t look smug, doesn’t even feel smug under the layer of cold that’s starting to solidify back over her soul, but Felix’s face sours like he’s bit into a lemon. “You’re frightening my brother.” Are the words that Felix needed to hear and are like a slap to the face.

The demon retreats back inside almost instantly, hiding away in Felix’s soul, going quite as it shivers at the fact that they frightened their soon-to-be-claimed mates, leaving Felix to deal with the fallout alone. The ass that he was.

Lilith watches as it happens, watches as the anger fades into confusion and then shame. Guilt at scaring Coffee, and even Wine, is enough to drop kick Felix back from the killing thresh hold and allow him to gather his waning control.

Horrified, he turns to Wine, who is standing ram rod straight, hands tucked behind his back, face carefully neutral, looking every inch a commander of the Royal Guard even in dark jeans and a grey t shirt, his bright red scarf neatly falling behind him.

Wine is still and unblinking as he stares at Felix. The darkness from Felix’s eyes fade back to gold as he stares horrified at Wine, and then to Coffee behind him. He’s trying desperately to hide his thin frame behind his shorter brother, hood pulled up tight over his skull, but it does nothing to hide the tell-tale trembling of his shoulders.

The guilt washes over Felix harder, so hard that he looks like he’s been back handed, and his magic leaves him in a rush, leaving him pale faced and stunned, “I’m sorry.” He muttered softly, shocked at his own anger, “I’m so sorry.” He says again, a little stronger and if it’s to Wine and Coffee or them all, Lilith isn’t sure.

Wine softens a little, takes a step forward to place a careful hand with sharp claws at his elbow, moving slow like one would with a wounded animal, “It’s all right Felix, we’re all very distraught about what we’ve just heard. But let’s sit down and be rational about this.”

Somewhere inside, Lilith is impressed. She’s seen Felix when he was in a right rotten mood, had seen him lost to his LV and immersed so deeply into the killing edge that Lilith once feared that they’d never pull him out. She knew the signs when he was spiralling down, losing the war against his viciously gained LV, sometimes worried she would fall herself. Yet, in their long life of war and conflict, she’d never seen anyone handle he brother so readily as Wine had with a few short words.

She’s almost gleeful to see him handled so easily, but she doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even react. Her deadpanned expression doesn’t change, even as the guilt and shame build in Felix’s.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, sounding a little more like himself as Wine encourages him to sit down slowly back into his chair.

Wine nods, patting his hand gently as Lilith carefully takes a step back to flip her own chair back up so Red can sit into her old chair, and Lilith sinks into Red’s. She’s decided they’re going to play musical chairs, and Lilith takes the seat next to her brother, just in case.

Red doesn’t complain, eye lights sharp as he sits on Lilith’s other side, he would have preferred to be between the mages, would prefer to be in the thick of things, but this puts him closer to Sans and Edge, and that’s a pretty close second.

Lilith watches as Wine nods, “I know.” His own voice much, much softer as everyone in the room takes a breath.

Wine goes to sit beside Felix, when Coffee taps his brother’s shoulder almost desperately to get his attention. Wine pauses, looks to Coffee as a hastily written note was shoved into his brother’s chest, and Coffee drops his gaze again as he waits, gripping a little too hard onto his own wrist.

Wine glances down to the notes, sharp teeth pulling into a frown as he nods, “If you would prefer.” He steps asides, allowing Coffee to slide into the seat beside Felix.

Lilith watches the exchange carefully through a layer of ice, under which she is glad to see her brother calmed despite how shame clouds his face. Coffee pulled his chair closer to Felix, leaving any embarrassment that he might have felt in favor of comfort, pressing in as much as he could against Felix’s side.

Felix goes still, stiff as a board as the thin frame pressed against him, and awkwardly he lifted his arm to drape around Coffee’s shoulders. Taking that as a sign that he was welcomed, Coffee huffed, as if to say they were all being dumb, and really, this wasn’t that hard, and boldly crawled into his lap.

Felix’s eyes go wide as the boney, thin frame settled himself into Felix’s lap, making himself right at home as Coffee lay his skull against Felix’s chest, and pressed his trembling frame in tight against Felix’s muscular one.

Frozen and wide eyed, Felix gives Lilith a vulnerable look as if to ask for help. She stares back unhelpfully, like she knew what the fuck to do with this now and was still just as useless in these moments as Felix was. Her shrug was super helpful, she’s sure, but she hears Sans sigh from two seats beside her, lean passed Red so he could be in Felix’s line of sight, and slowly moves to hug Red from behind.

Red freezes as Sans’s arms wrap around him lightly, making careful, obvious moves before he nods to Felix. Red still hasn’t moved as Felix’s own arms move around Coffee in a much tighter hug as he’s pressed into Felix’s chest. Coffee lets loose a shivering sigh and settles in more thoroughly against Felix like he belonged there.

Sans beams at him and gives Felix a thumbs up as he lets go of Red, who still hasn’t move, and settles back into his own seat, all smug and amused. Deep down, below the ice, Lilith’s soul pulses with love for Sans. Smart enough to speak in a language battle mage could understand and sharp enough to sort out the problem without words. Inside, Lilith preens at how amazing her mate is, but it’s buried beneath the layer of ice, unable to feel anything but numb detachment in what was about to come.

With a sigh, Wine settles back into his chair, his clawed hand settled at Felix’s arm as he presses his shoulders back and looks to Sloan, “Now, Sloan. What do we do?”

Sloan jerks, startled that he’s asked her that, brow furrowing as she frowns, “I don’t know.” She said softly, drawing nervous, worried glances from the monsters before she sighs, and swallows her anger, “I’ve told Nightmare, I’m not the leader of our Den. Our Coven has a hierarchy, a chain of command because we had to for the war. We needed direction if we were to survive, but Den’s operate differently. There are no leaders in properly functioning Dens.”

“Then what do we do?” Nightmare asks from beside her, voice icy and detached, drawing her cold frown to him.

She takes another breath, looking to her hands as she knots her fingers, “The role of leadership.” She explains in a low, flat voice, “Rotates to the mage with the most experience of that particular topic. I’m the better negotiator, there fore, I spoke to you when we first met.”

Sloan settles herself, hands going flat to the table and she rolls her shoulder back as if preparing for war, “There is only one of us who was a commander in the army.” Lilith feels her body want to flinch, but she doesn’t allow it to happen, and softly takes a breath at Sloan’s words. Words she had never wanted Sans to hear, a past she had left behind, “A general, who lead more successful assaults and missions, has taken more bases and castles, then most other living commanders.” Solemnly, quietly, Sloan lifts her gaze to Lilith, “What do we do Lilith?”

Taking a breath, Lilith looks to Felix, quiet and curled around Coffee, then to Red and Sans; the former shaken his anxiety at being touched off, and the latter giving her a deeply concerned look. Something inside her presses inward on a bruised spot on her soul, and right now, Lilith can’t be what they need.

Quietly, she locks a little more of herself away, allows a little more of the darkness that she keeps carefully contained out of its box and straightens in her seat. Her shoulders go back, and her face becomes impassive and cold, and when she speaks her tone is flat.

“First and foremost,” her voice is firm, leaving no room for discussion, “This is a rescue mission, not a revenge mission.” Blood red eyes glance to Felix, looking for a rebuttal, but finding none. Felix still has his arms wrapped around Coffee, his mouth pressed against the hood that covers his skull and nods.

Lilith takes a breath and continues, “A revenge mission will take more time, that’s a fully fleshed assault. Based on what Nightmare has told us of Sin’s world, their world has a full army of monsters who have been professionally trained. It would take at least, a Company of battle mages to achieve a victory with low losses on our side. That would involve contacting the Coven leaders and our allies, planning, pulling resources and an explanation.”

She gives a little sigh, the most human thing she would allow herself to express, “I don’t think they would say no, but these resources could take days to pull together. Days, Sin doesn’t have.” She pauses, glances to Sloan, “A rescue mission can be done with the people in this room. It’s a quick in and out. A dash and grab, we find Sin and come home. No hunting down who hurt him, we aren’t out for blood here, we don’t have the time for that. We move quickly, a small team that won’t be noticeable until we’re long gone.”

Glass makes a choking noise, like an angry cat but Lilith shakes her head at him, “Two reason for it.” She says slowly, “One, we just don’t have the time. Now, if we come across the pigs who hurt Sin, we’ll take them out, but their deaths are not the priority, getting Sin home is. Two,” she takes a breath, and allows a bitter smile to curl at her mouth, “We have a food supply for Nightmare.”

Around the table, anger is quelled with confusion, “We can’t keep feeding Nights souls from our world, someone’s bound to notice. Way I see it, we have a buffet from him to pick from.” She shrugs, “A silver lining if anything.”

The room goes still, and Lilith gives everyone a moment to digest the information before she continues, “Now, how we do it all depends on the portal.” Cold eyes that make Gaster shiver, turn to him, “Do we need to hold the portal, or can we seal it and reopen it when we want to go home?” 

All eyes turn to the new comer, and Gaster freezes in his chair, too tall and too lanky to fit properly, awkwardly hunching inward to fit, “I, uh,” he pauses, his voice sounding like its both far away and close, “I would be afraid that I would not be able to find the tare again.” He frowns at the table, hands clasp firmly in his lap, “We would have to leave it open.”

Lilith nodded, licking her teeth, “Then we do this with four teams.” She tells them with confidence, and around the table the Den and the Crew lean forward a little more, “and we will need everyone to make this work.”

“Lilith.” Papyrus says suddenly, quietly but with enough strength that it draws her attention, “I’m sorry.” He starts, “I have a question.” Lilith’s mouth slowly closes, and she nods for him to continue, “For…For Gaster.”

Gaster flinches to hear his younger son use his first name but tries not to take offence as Lilith nods again, sitting back to let Papyrus ask his question.

Nodding, Papyrus sits up a little straighter, pulling away from Ryder and clasps his gloved hands on the table, “Gaster,” he starts slowly, “You have said that you were able to return to our world with the help of stolen-then-stolen-again cosmic creation magic from the murder child.”

Gaster’s mouth twists into an amused smile at that, at Papyrus calling Chara the murder child, “I did.” He agreed, and around the table the mages are frowning. Sitting up a little straighter, they give him slanted looks as if they suddenly took another look at him, deciding if he was a threat of not.

“I ask,” Papyrus says slowly, sockets dropping and from his side, Ryder sits up a little straighter to better put his arm around Papyrus’s shoulder, “because, if you took the cosmic magic from the devil spawn, it questions what else she could do and possibly limitations.”

His brow furrows, before he finally asks, “Why is it this timeline didn’t collapse when you re-entered it? Is this…some kind of buffoonery we could use to stop…her?” 

Gaster’s shoulders drop, and he hates that his sons have to think like this, react on the defensive, “I don’t think it could be used in defense. I…hypothesis that, when I fell into the Core, the magic that made up the machine erased me from the timeline, and I was displaced. Cut out of it, if you will. I survived, although I do not know how, but only within the void. The,” and he pauses, not sure what better words to use other then what Papyrus’s called it, “cosmic creation magic is typically recycled to create new worlds and life cycles from the ashes of old ones.”

He gives a mournful look, his mouth pulling down into a frown, “Chara stole the reminiscence of a dead world to create the portal to Sin’s world, is planning to do the same to the others.” Around the table the Crew shifts uneasily, they’re all running from something, “When I stole it from her, I was able to transplant myself back into this world. Like, stitching myself back into the fabric of time after being cut out of it, starting new, here.”

Papyrus’s shoulders dropped a little, and he frowned, “So this isn’t something we could use to stop her before she hurts someone else?”

Gaster shook his head no, “I don’t believe so.” And Papyrus looks so crestfallen at that, but Gaster is quick to add, “However, we know how she’s doing it, and that’s a start.”

Papyrus nods, and Ryder is quick to tuck him back under his thick arm, pulling him tight to his side, “Good question Paps.”

Papyrus nods, looks to Ryder and brightens a little more, “Of course it was, I _am_ the Great Papyrus. If I weren’t here to ask these things, who would?”

There’s a moment when sheer adoration breaks the layer of ice in Ryder’s eyes, but the look is there and gone in a blink of an eye, and Ryder is back to being cold and hard as the others.

“Thanks Paps.” Lilith nods to him, looking more certain, a little colder as what little emotion evaporate from her eyes and more of the darkness uncurls, “Alright, four teams.”

Everyone falls still again, a few leaning forward again in anticipation, “I will lead the alpha team, we’re the assault team. I will bring Nightmare, Sloan, and Felix with me and we will find Sin.”

Around the table complaints and rebuttals are only started to be raise when she coolly raises her hand to stall them, “Sloan, Felix and myself have all been in rescue missions before, with far worse odds. We have the most know how, and we’re the best chance to find Sin.”

Dark, blood red eyes lift to Sloan, “Which will be faster, a scry spell or the hell hounds?”

Sloan looks up and left in thought, “Hounds.” She says eventually, slowly, “a scry spell, even with the help of a witch mirror, will take unnecessary time. Hounds will be faster.”

Lilith nodded, eyes turning to Felix, “Think you could still control them?”

Dim yellow eyes lift over Coffee’s skull and he blinks slowly at Lilith in thought, “Yeah.” He tells her slowly, calmly, “I trained ‘em. I’ll bring them top side.”

Sans and Red share a look, and Sans shrugs at Red’s tilted skull as if he where to ask _what the hell are they talking about?_ But for once, Sans has no idea, this is a new one on him.

“Good.” Lilith tells him, “Sloan?”

“I’ll find something that smells like him.” Sloan tells her, keeping her eyes pinned on the wall behind Lilith’s head, full lips pulled into an angry line.

Lilith nodded, eyes turning to Lola and for a moment feels a pulse of regret that she’s quick to bury, “Lola,” Lola’s tearful, green eyes finally tip up to her sister, a fresh flood of tears slipping down her face, and unfortunately Lola’s out of time, “You need to lead beta team.”

From around the room there’s another canopy of refusals and rebuttals, all ignored as Lola holds her sisters gaze and swallows one, last bitter sob. Lilith is mildly horrified under her own armor of ice and darkness as she watches Lola, kind, sweet, loving Lola suddenly sit up straighter, and her eyes go cold.

The tears dry on the globes of her eyes, and when she reaches up with her hand tucked into the sleeve of Glass’s bomber to wipe the wetness from her face, no more fall to replace them. Around the room the monsters fall silent in horror as Lola’s face goes cold and the color of her eyes brighten to a sickly, acid green. Had her face not been streaked with tears and raw red, no one would have guessed she had been crying.

“I have the most experience holding the line.” Lola tells them, her voice so cold that it doesn’t even sound like her, and it makes Glass tilt his head towards her with a frown. His maw of sharp teeth pulls downward with worry that they don’t have time to sooth. Lilith needs Pandora if this is going to work, if they’re going to save Sin.

Lola needs to be Pandora as much as she needs to be Death.

“I’ll hold the line.” She tells Lilith with the same, cold, flat tone, one that Lilith had always hoped she would never hear again, “I’ll put a shield around the portal and secure our way home.”

Lilith nodded, “Good. Gaster will be with you in the event we need to collapse the portal and we need to move. At least we’ll have a chance to get home if Nightmare can’t get passed the light shield.”

Glass’s head snaps towards her, an angry expression souring his face, at the thought of Lola going on to the battle field with only _Gaster_ as her back up, when Lilith continues in a smooth, even voice, “Glass, Edge?”

That makes Edge look over at her slowly, head tilting and Glass’s sharp toothed jaw slowly closed, “I need you to protect my sister.”

It’s a lot to ask, to protect Lola, but Glass is already nodding desperately yes, sitting up straighter, looking pleased to be included, to be given such an important job. Next to Sans, Edge’s shoulders have gone back and his face grim as he nods as well.

“Thank you.” She whispers softly before she takes a breath, “Ryder, I need you to lead the charlie team.”

Ryder winces, then nods, looking grim as he squeezes Papyrus a little tighter. Lilith goes on, “The charlie teams always have the worse job.” Lilith says quietly, “You’re plan B. You’re to take over in the event we fail, and we all die. Kill anything that comes through the portal that isn’t us. It also means, you have to wait for the worse.” 

Ryder sighs, gives Papyrus a sad, sideways look, “Yeah. I remember.” He mutters solemnly, “I always hated the waiting.” 

“Least we never turned up dead.” Felix muttered weakly against Coffee’s skull, making the skeleton in his arms shiver at his words.

“Yeah.” Ryder sighs, deep and hurt, “Lots of members of the charlie teams never had their Den mates come home during the war.”

“Waiting always killed me the most.” Felix muttered back, making his brother snort.

“That’s because your impatient.” Ryder tells him lightly, and Lilith knows they need to move, but she gives her brothers the moment they need to centre themselves.

Felix curls a little more around Coffee, “Yeah, that’s true.” 

Lilith sighs again, the conversation falling silent, “Ryder, your going to have,” and she pauses, glances to her right to Sans’s face, and her soul squeezes inward. His permanent grin a little sadder, eye lights a little harder and still that under lining fear clings to his soul, but he’s still standing with them.

She couldn’t have been more proud of him, her tough, funny mate, and she swears in that moment she will come home to him. On either side of him are two more monsters, strong and proud, and in no way less, that she wants to come home to as well.

Lilith recentres herself, “Ryder, your going to have Sans, Red, Gore and Crow with you. I’m going to get you an ace in the hole, just in case.”

Ryder nods as Felix sighs, and they know exactly what sort of ace she’s got, and it’s one she only calls upon in only the most extreme situations.

This seems to call for it.

“What sort of ace?” Nightmare asks from Sloan’s other side. He’s frowning, but his voice is still smooth, like leaves over concrete.

Lilith glances at him before a cruel smile curls at her lips, “Two, actually. First is Frisk. She still has the power to save and reset.” Around the table, the Crew flinches back and shift uncomfortably, “I’m going to call her and tell her to create a save star, just in case we all die.”

“Too bad none of us will remember what you did to change the course.” Sans mutters, and it makes Lilith sigh.

“No, but Frisk will know that we are trying again, it’ll have to be enough.” Lilith shrugs, “We don’t have any other choice.”

“Just means we don’t fuck up the first time.” Felix muttered, readjusting Coffee on his lap to hold him a little tighter.

Lilith nodded, and really, it was just that simple. Don’t fuck it up, “I’m also going to get Wren to help.”

Felix groans from Lilith’s side, and its enough to almost make her smile as he drops his face into the side of Coffee’s skull, “Not Wren.”

Sans almost smiles as well at Felix’s groan, when Nightmare asks, “Who’s Wren?”

“An asshole.” Felix sighs.

“A dragon.” She answers properly, making Nightmare quirk a brow at her.

“A dragon?” he says slowly, almost disbelieving, “As in a massive, fire breathing lizard?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call him a lizard to his face, but yeah.” She nods, solum and serious.

Felix groans, lifting his head back to stare at Nightmare, resettling Coffee to better talk with his hands, “Yeah, a dragon. Dragons are assholes, and mages who befriend dragons,” he gives his sister a pointed glare, “are fucking crazy. Do you have any idea that bull shit you need to do to win dragon loyalty?”

“It wasn’t that bad Felix.” Lilith said blandly, but the almost smile teases at her lips.

Felix gives her a flat look, “You tell Sans what you did?”

Lilith rolled her eyes, “You enjoy the power of the pyre axe, so I don’t know why your complaining.”

“Only had to get it from the bottom of a volcano, not like that shits hard.” Felix scoffed, making Lilith roll her eyes.

“Sloan helped, its fine.” Lilith huffed, waiving her brother off, making him roll his own eyes, “You just don’t like him because of the demon.”

“And he’s an asshole.” Felix said blandly, blinking at his sister, “And now it makes sense why you’re in love with Sans.” From beside her, Sans flipped him off, “you like assholes.”

Red snorts, and Sans gives Felix a look, “I’m not an asshole.”

“Says the guy who shoved me into the lake.” Felix sounds a little more like himself, not nearly as angry or monotone as the others.

“Enough.” Sloan cuts them off, and Felix goes back to being cold and dead eyed, nodding and curling around Coffee a little more, “Lilith?”

“I’ll call Frisk and I’ll send Sans up the mountain to get Wren.” Cold eyes turn to Sans, and she frowns, “Tell Wren it’s me who needs help. The flock is loyal to our Den, but Wren is my friend.”

Sans nods, any warmth in his face falling with his smile as Lilith continues, “Papyrus will lead the delta team.” Papyrus perks up as Ryder looks relieved and Sans sits up in concern. Inwardly, Lilith sighs, as if she would put her mates little brother in danger, “Papyrus, you and Undyne are going to take Ripper, Sugar, Wine, Coffee and Alphys up to Ryder’s room, and go into lock down.”

Sugar nods in relief, tears slipping down his face and Alphys looks like she’s about to cry in relief too. Undyne at lease, will be safe. 

Lilith is prepared for the complaints from the others, lets the canopy of angry voices echo loudly in the room at her and Lilith gives them a moment to express their displeasure. They don’t want to be left behind; they want to _help_.

Lilith shakes her head no, and holds up her hand to quiet them down, “Riper, your barely able to walk and you can’t spare the magic.”

His face clouds with dark anger, his mouth pulling into a snarl, “But,”

“Do as your told Ripper.” Nightmare snaps back, they don’t have time for fighting, and right now, he needs his boys to fall in line.

Lilith nods her thanks to Nightmare before continuing, “Papyrus, Undyne.” She pauses, rallies herself at what she’s about to say to them, “I need someone I can trust in case this goes sideways. If we don’t come back, if Frisk’s reset doesn’t work because of multiverse fuckery. If we all die, I need someone to call the Coven leaders to tell them we’re being invaded and to take care of the girls.” That makes both Papyrus and Undyne’s mouth to slowly shut, brows furrowing and shoulders to slump.

Beside her, Sans slumps next to Red in relief, almost sighing but he manages to choke it back as Lilith continues, “And I don’t trust anyone more then I trust you two.”

They frown at her, share a look of concern and when they look back at her, she’s relieved to see the understanding. They don’t like it, but they get it.

Undyne leans back bitterly, arms crossed over her chest, “Ah, shoot.” She mutters bitterly, “that does make sense. I guess.”

Papyrus slumps a little more under Ryder’s arm, looking a little sour, a little sad, but nods. Good, its what Lilith needs to have happen.

“Lilith.” Wine says from her left side, looking up at her with a frown, “I think my brother and I maybe able to assist you.”

She frowns at him, “Wine, your still low on magic.” She glances to Coffee, her frown deepening as she watches him curl into Felix’s chest, trembling and afraid, hardly what they need on the battlefield.

“Maybe so.” He agrees softly, “but my brother and I are sharp shooters. We don’t need to use magic to be near the conflict. We can assist in protecting your sister. Make sure nothing gets close.”

Lilith stares at him, and he stares dully back, and her dark red eyes glance up to Coffee. He’s looked up from Felix’s shoulder, and over his skull, Felix is looking concerned despite how Coffee nods his agreement, that yes, he can help.

Lilith sighs, and ignores her brothers look of concern, “Alright.” Felix slumps, mouth pursing bitterly, “you’ll go with Lola.” Rolling her shoulders back, Lilith looks round the table, a little more of that cold, dark LV unspooling from her soul, “We’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready. Sloan,” her sister still won’t look at her, no doubt pulling her own LV from it’s box, dusting it off to be ready to use, “your gear is by the door.” Sloan nods, “Felix, take Coffee and Wine to the armory, get the big calibre rifles. Take Edge and Glass with you, give them anything they can use.”

Felix nods, looking dower about the whole thing, and when Lilith glances around the table, everyone’s looking grim. She doesn’t blame them, not at all. They’re going for one of their own, they’re going for Sin and they don’t know what sort of shape he’ll be in when they get there. Fates know what has happen to him since Gaster was forced to abandon his post.

Lilith nod, “Good. You’ve all got fifteen minutes to get what you need.” She pushes herself to her feet, heavy armor settling around her muscular body, shiny obsidian with a blood red sash around her waist. She pauses to glance to Sans, and something pulses in a horrific mixture of worry and love for him, but Lilith shoves it down.

Cold faced and locking away what little emotion she was still expressing, Lilith gave his shoulder a very brief squeeze, but couldn’t look at him, not right now. Not with her LV ridding her harder then it has in years, not when she was walking into a war zone far worse then what their underground had been.

Not when the darkness in her soul was leaking from its box thick and heavy like tar, and she was about to let it off it’s leash to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting universe. She buries it all, doesn’t look at his worried expression and heads for the front door where her gear waited.

-

Sin curls into a ball on the stone floor, bitterly glowering up at Asriel and spits a clot of marrow onto the stone. He forces himself up onto one arm, wiping marrow from his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and hey, bounces points he was still clothed.

He’s in the middle of the war room, around him at the half circular table is Asgore and his council. His generals and his Queen, and Fri- Fuckface, is at Toriel’s side. They’re all glowering at him, looking bitter and annoyed when Asgore asks again, “What sort of resistance will we face Sans?”

Sin grins, watches Asriel as he wipes his marrow from his white fur, “Care bears.” He says sarcastically, the same answer he’s given every time they’ve asked.

Asriel glances up to his father, grinning coldly when Asgore nods. The punch to his face sends Sin back down the ground, marrow spewing from his mouth and his skull bounces off the stone. Sin spits another clot of marrow, grinning weakly up at Asriel, “You still hit like a bitch.”

Heaving a sigh, Asriel’s heavy foot plants solidly between his legs, pressing painfully into his broken pelvis, making him gasp and arch away as fire spreads through his bones. Agony blacks out his vision, but he fights it back, “Still a bitch.” He rasps, swallowing back his pain.

Shaking his head, Asriel crosses the room to the unnecessary fire crackling merrily in the hearth, its warm in the castle and its hardly needed. Sin inwardly sighs and Asriel pulls a brand from the flames, it glows bright orange, and he’s sure this is going to hurt so very much.

He tries to brace when Asriel kicks him over, takes a few good hard hoofs to his ribs until one broke, and one to his pelvis before Asriel yanks his jacket and turtleneck up over his head. He tries to brace for pain as Asriel presses the brand of the delta rune into his shoulder blade, marking him as property of the royals, and sharp pain burns through Sin’s body.

He swallows back his scream as he’s asked again, what’s in the mage’s world.

He laughs, bordering onto madness when he manages to spit _care bears_ out again, and promises himself, that he won’t give them a fucking thing to work with. Asriel tosses the brand aside, pressing into the burn with the palm of his hand, pain rippling through Sin’s body and he laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, if you want to vote on yes or no to Fellcest, vote here! https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/WYMJN3K


	19. A Bone to Pick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare follows the mages into a war zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> At long last, the start of the rescue mission. I do hope you enjoy what's coming, and be aware to read the warnings. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone whop voted on the Fellcest poll, I do appreciate it. If you are still looking to vote you can do so and the link is in the previous chapter.
> 
> Alright friends, lets get into it. 
> 
> WARNING: death, destruction, soul devouring, AU typical violence, blood, mild gore.

The sun is still high in the bright blue sky, the air around them warm in the early afternoon of a spring day, and Lilith settles the rifle along her back a little more fully as she waits for the others. The heavy pack of weaponry is slung low on her midback, just under the rifle, and she fiddles with one of the knifes at her thigh.

She’s ready to go, wage war to get back one of theirs, _her_ Den mate and sure, this is absolutely a rescue mission, just like she told the others, but something dark lurks inside. Something cruel, and she gets the feeling that this is going to be more then a simple rescue mission. Call it intuition, but something whispers she’s going to kill someone today. Multiple someone’s, and she knows Sloan would tell her it’s Fate whispering in her ear, giving her promises of the thing she wanted the most.

Lilith doesn’t believe in Fate, not really, not anymore, but something deep inside uncurls with hope that she’ll get to meet up with some of Sin’s abusers. Exact the revenge she never had the opportunity to when faced with Oliva. Her death had been one of necessity, not vengeance.

Sans is suddenly beside her, side stepping out of a short cut with a small, bitter grin, his eye lights hard little circles with some unnamed emotion. Fear is there, for sure, this has suddenly become very real, but he shoves it down as he takes smooth steps towards her, unafraid despite how cold her expression must be.

Something purrs happily as Sans takes his place next to her, right where he fucking belongs. Her beloved, her Judge, her mate. Sans was tougher then he gave himself credit for, the therapy helped for sure, and even the darkness inside pulsed with affection for Sans.

He was her equal on every aspect, and she can’t help but soften with love. She doesn’t want to think about what Sloan’s going through right now.

“Wren’s coming.” He tells her with a nod, looking around the empty drive and front yard, “Where’s everyone else?”

Lilith nodded, “Coming.” She slides her knife home in its sheath at her thigh, “Frisk is going to initiate a save in two minutes.”

He nods, and she frowns when he glances away and she hates how uncertain he looks, “Hey Lili?”

“Yeah?” her voice is cold, growing colder the closer the time comes to when they need to be ready for a fight.

“Keep your helmet on, okay?” Sans asks softly, a little hurt desperation in his voice, and Lilith translates that to _please come home. Be safe._

“I will.” She tells him softly; a little more emotion slips into her tone.

Sans looks down with a nod, knows she really means _I’ll come home to you. I promise._ There’s a look of nervousness, hurt and sadness that crosses his face, and Lilith feels a pulse of sorrow in her own soul. She can’t be what Sans needs, not right now, but she can give him something to cling to.

“Sans,” he looks up at her when her cold voice says his name, and she lifts her hand to crook a finger at him, “Come here.”

Blinking, Sans shuffles towards her like he’s under a spell and helpless to come when he’s been called. When he’s close enough to touch, Lilith reaches out to grasp at the front of his shirt and he relaxes under her hands. He trusts her with his life and body, knows that Lilith would _never_ hurt him, allowing her to pull him a little roughly towards her.

She’s a little harder then she normally would be, immersed so deeply into her LV it’s hard to be soft, but Sans shivers as she pulls him up onto his toes and she grins; her kinky Judge.

Lilith’s head dips down so her lips brush against his teeth when she whispers, “I love you.”

A little bit of tenderness brightens in his eye lights, and he softens when he’s about to say it back; Lilith closes the short distance between them and presses her mouth to his teeth in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Sans sighs, her mouth is warm and velvety, her magic tasting like warm cinnamon, a lovely contrast to his candy sweet-sour; Sans deepens the kiss softly, licking at her lower lip, encouraging her to part her teeth.

Lilith changes her grip on him, lowers him back to his feet so she can cup his cheeks as Sans’s summoned tongue rolls over hers sweetly. Lilith sighs faintly into the kiss, a soft pulse of love rolls through her and her soul calls to its mate. She smiles into the kiss when she feels Sans’s sing back, feels its essence reaching for hers, and in that brief, soft moment, it was only Sans and Lilith.

He’s the one who reluctantly breaks the kiss, knows she needs to go soon, knows she needs to be in the right head space if he has any hope of Lilith to come home. Lilith’s still gripping onto his skull when he whispers back, “I love you too.”

Her face lights up briefly at his words, there and gone between one breath and another as cold ice settled back over her expression.

“You two are fuck’n gross.” Red calls from behind them, and Lilith’s cool eyes lift over Sans’s head to give him an appraising look.

Sans huffed an irritated sigh, but his expression was amused; Red wasn’t unwanted, they didn’t mind him watching, but Sans schools his expression into something annoyed. Internally Lilith rolled her eyes, of course these two like to antagonize each other.

“Don’t be jealous.” Sans grins as he turns towards Red, who’s leaning against the door frame of the compound, thinking he was looking cool and untouchable; he’s wearing the black high tops they bought him, and if he knows that Lilith put protection magic into his shoes, Red never said anything about it.

The black t-shirt actually fits him well, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by the heavy jacket from Underfell making up most of his bulk. His hands are stuffed into his jacket pockets, looking sharp toothed and amused, and fuck if he doesn’t look hot just standing there.

Lilith shakes her head, pushes the thought away as Red pushes himself off the door frame and tries not the feel the bubbling amusement when she sees the interest in Sans’s eye lights. Her mate may think he’s slick, but she knows him, can see Sans’s amusement and attraction.

Or, he’s being very unsubtle on purpose, and it’s something she wouldn’t put past him. Something that Lilith would see, even if Red didn’t, because Sans only put energy into annoying people he actually liked.

“Why do I need to be jealous?” Red groused as he slowly strolled to Sans.

Sans grinned at him as he came to stand beside him, “Because I’m clearly the pretty one.”

Red rolls his eye lights, and shakes his head, “Yeah, you’re a fucking centre fold all right.” He spits sarcastically.

Still, Sans preens, “Yeah, I know.” And it makes Red roll his eyes, and Lilith cracked a brief smile.

Red’s eye lights glanced to Lilith before the settle back on Sans’s grinning face, “Don’ fucking tell me your sending your girl into a war zone with only a kiss.”

“Bold of you to assume I need anything else.” Lilith huffs next to Sans, voice still monotone and face expressionless.

“What would you send her with?” Sans all but dares with a grin, eye lights sparkling with dark amusement, and when Red scoffs, he misses Sans’s brief up and down, and smirk up to Lilith, the brat.

Rolling his eye lights, Red lifts his hand and magic crackles at his fingers before he summons a sharp, bone construct about the same length of one of Lilith’s short knifes. “Here.” He spits, practically shoving the bone at her, ignoring Sans’s smug look.

He refuses to feel emberressed by it, even as Lilith’s brows furrow in confusion. She may not understand what it means here to be offered a weapon, but in Underfell, giving someone a weapon was a big deal. It meant you were willing to share magic, a valuable resource. You were willing to give someone a weapon and trusting them not to use it against you, and as a Judge, Red had powerful magic.

Lilith slowly takes the construct, feels the warm magic buzzed in her hand. Red huffs and steps back next to Sans, ignoring his grinning, amused face, “Don’t fucking cut yourself on it.” He tells her, “I’m imagining you’ve got LV, and that’s full of my KR.”

“Oh, you could say that.” She tells him lightly as she gets a feel for the bone, finding its weight and balance point, “Thanks Red.”

Sans grins when he shrugs, and just to annoy him, Sans bumped his shoulder, “See dude, that was almost nice.”

Red rolled his eye lights, and any smart-ass retort died when Felix came out of the compound with Nightmare and Sloan, the others just behind them. Red’s sharp teeth snap shut, and Lilith’s shoulders rolled back, and her spine straightened as the last of her emotions are buried along with the rest of them and she goes dark.

Even her eyes darken, the blood red of her magic darkening to almost black, and Sans feels his soul compress to see that expression on his mates face, but pushes that thought away. He knows where she’s going, what she’s going to do in order to bring Sin home.

She tucks the bone into the back of her sash so that it pressed against her spine, hidden away as a just in case weapon. She looks to Felix, voice icy when she tells him, “Wren will be here any minute. Let’s get the hounds.”

Felix nods, his own face cold, eyes solid black as he takes a step away from the group; dark, corrupted magic swirls around him as he held out his hand, palm flat and facing down as he muttered to himself.

Sans takes a breath, feels something in the air crackle, and if he had hair, it would be standing on end at the wrongness of the magic that Felix was pulling on. Red took a step back as well, stepping a little closer to Sans even when Lilith doesn’t flinch.

The ground near Felix ripples and falls away as he opens the portal to the Nether, rippling heavily where grass once was, the smell of sulfur heavy in the air.

Something massive blots out the sun, and Red’s head snaps upwards as Wren drops heavily from the sky, landing with his front legs on either side of Lilith. Red twitches back, steps closer into Sans’s space as the others came outside, and he looks _up_ to a creature that is easily as tall as the mage’s complex with teeth as long as Lilith was tall.

And yeah, that’s a fucking literal dragon.

Wren yawns, his mouth opening wide, looking like his face split in half, like a cat yawning fully, before he settled and lay down, “Lady Lilith.” He nodded pleasantly, grinning wide like the Cheshire cat at Red’s gob smacked face, his dark black scales shinning in the midday sun.

“Hello Wren.” He frowns at her cold voice, long tail thrashing like an angry cat.

“I see it is that sort of visit.” Wren sighs, widening his wings to sun them.

Lilith nods, watching as her brother summons his pack of hell hounds, their call to his sharp whistle a high, echoing howl, “I need an ace.” She tells him politely, even as Wren looked to Red with a grin, flicking his tongue out at him.

“Of course.” Wren is good natured about all this, settling a little more into the warm earth, “When did you begin to collect skeletons?”

Lilith sighed, and Sans grinned up at her, “I haven’t.”

Wren makes a noise as the first hell hound steps through the portal, and Red doesn’t know which is worse, the dragon or it; the hound is bigger then Felix, easily standing a full head taller then him while still on all fours. It has a massive skull like head with a snarling mouth full of sharp rows of teeth.

It’s eyes glow orange like the furnace it came from and at each paw, it had claws like a lion. It climbs further out of the Nether, it’s fur thick and course, heaviest around its neck almost like a proud mane.

Despite the horror that is crawling out of the ground, the terror that a second one is coming out right behind it, Red looks up at Wren, “Fucking excuse me?”

Lilith sighs, even as Wren laughs, flicking his tongue out at Red again, “I like this one. He smells like Sans. A little hotter and rough around the edges, but a fine addition. I’m sure you and your mate will love on him something fierce.”

Red sputters like an angry cat even as a third hound crawls from the depths of its portal, and Lilith sighs, “He’s not mine.”

Wren only laughs, “Yet. I know how you mages get attached. You do it awfully quick.” It’s mocking words from what are clearly old friends, and Lilith rolls her eyes at him.

“Its not like that.” She insists, her voice unchanging as Red looks between two sets of monsters and can’t decide which is worse.

“Of course.” Wren says mildly amused, and seems to let it lay, looking to Felix, “Oh look, puppies.”

Lilith sighs, and if Felix hears Wren, he’s being ignored as Felix speaks to the snarling, snapping hounds. 

“Who’s my good girl.” Felix tells the largest one, making Wren snort as he tosses a chunk of meat for her to snap out of the air, “Come on Maggie, who’s a good girl.”

The largest hound pauses and tilts her massive head as her mouth slowly shuts. Felix smiles, even as Wine takes a step back, his voice purposely high and happy, “Who’s a good girl Maggie?”

The massive hound yips, it’s high pitched and happy even when it echoes in that weird, otherworldly way, and the hound bounces twice before she drops into a play bow. Her tail is doing quick figure eights to show her happiness, her three companions dancing on their toes around her as the portal spirals shut. Felix’s voice is still unusually high, “Good girls!”

“Okay,” Red deadpans near Sans, still looking up at Wren with concern, “Did Felix fucking name a hell hound Maggie?”

Lilith nodded, pointing out each out as she named them off, “The one with half an ear is Molly. Mariah has the big white spot over her eye, and Mable is the little one.”

Red tares his eye lights away from Wren’s smirking face to look at Lilith, “What the fuck is wrong with you all?”

Lilith shrug, brushing off his question, “Lots of stuff.” She looks over to Felix, and even Lilith shifts nervously at the hell hounds they hadn’t seen since the end of the war. They typically made people uncomfortable, and it nearly killed Felix to send them back to the Nether after it had been ordered by the Covens, “You good Felix?”

“One sec.” he calls back before he focuses on the pack, “Okay good girls, sit.” He lifts his hand and four bums hit the ground, four tails wagging happily, and Felix tosses them each another chunk of meat, “That’s my good girls. Okay ladies,” he speaks fondly to his hounds, and their tails continue their wide sweeps, and if Wine grins at Felix a little more fondly, no one makes a comment about it, “We’re going into hostile territory.” And their tails stop waging and four mouths pull back into a snarl to show teeth, “And we’re going to play a game.” The snarling keeps up, but their tails start to wag again, “We’re going to play search and rescue.”

Their tails do wide, happy arches, and Felix nods, “Alright, we’re good.” His expression darkens, “Let go play.”

Taking a breath, Lilith nod, “Gaster?” 

Startling, Gaster looks to Lilith before nodding almost desperately, and hopes they aren’t too late. He pushes his magic outward, gripping into that tiny tare that Chara had missed, and peeling it open, creating an oozing, bubbling portal into Sin’s world.

The Crew and the Den all stare at it for a moment, centering themselves for what was about to come as they take a breath.

Lola moves first, green magic sparking at her fingers, as she’s ready to take a step through the portal when Glass makes a strangled noise, “The fuck you do’n?”

It makes Lilith bite back a grin, even as Lola turns around to watch him march to stand beside her, “Let me go through first.” He sounds distressed, and Lilith can’t help but be amused.

Lola’s cold face doesn’t move, and she levels that chilly glare at Glass, “I can take care of myself.”

“Never said ya couldn’t. But I literally only have one job, keep you alive. Let me make sure ya aint gonna get fucking shot or something.” He shakes his head at her, and Lilith has to look away so they won’t see her amused grin.

Lola grimaces and rolls her eyes, “Aint isn’t even a real word!” she yells after him, even as Glass steps through the portal.

Lilith looks up to the window that Papyrus and Undyne watch them out from, looking grim and sad, and Lilith gives them a short nod before she looks back to Sans. He gives her a worried grin, “Be careful.”

His voice is small and scared, and it makes Red take a sidestep nearer. Lilith feels her soul constrict in her chest, and she nods, “I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

They both flinch, and Red is almost angry, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Glass’s skull pokes through the portal, giving the all clear, and Lola is already walking through to set up the shield. Lilith hesitates, shifting her rifle into a better position, “I don’t.” she says softly, and with one last nod to Red and Sans, makes for the portal, falling in step with Edge as they step into Sins’s world.

-

Standing shoulder to shoulder between Sloan and Felix, Lilith takes a breath as she stares across the pretty, well kept courtyard of the palace and hates everything they see.

Its so cute, so clean and if it was anything like Sans’s underground, the people were starving while the royals here lived in this luxury.

Nightmare steps up beside Sloan, looks across the shiny stone that makes up the courtyard, and Felix sighs in annoyance, “There’s a mote.”

Nodding, Nightmare settles his fluttering soul, trying desperately to ignore his own building fear. Sin had been alive when Gaster left, and surely if the wanted to break him, he would still be alive now, but Nightmare worried.

He tried to channel that into anger, into the energy he would need and tried to look unaffected. He doesn’t know how well he successes.

“In your world,” Edge said from behind them, standing straight and tall, glancing around the quiet court yard for threats, “your Asgore, from what Sans has said, drained the water from the mote when your water levels dropped, to keep water in Waterfall.”

Nightmare sighed, half turned to his subordinate, “Why do you even know that?”

Edge gives him a single shoulder shrug, “I like to know the terrane.”

Felix nods, frowning a little, “That’s fair.” He heaves a sigh as he tuns to their little team, the acid green of the shield bright over each of them, “It won’t be hard to get passed the draw bridge. Once we’re inside we’ll get the hounds on Sin’s scent.”

Lilith is still staring at the castle, trying to refuse to feel the building nostalgia this brought, and whether that was from saving Sans or the many times they had taken a strong hold, she isn’t sure. She knows what happens next and is glad that Sans isn’t here to see her decent.

“Leave one of the hounds with Lola. Just in case.” She orders, and Felix nods.

He gives a sharp whistle, and the four massive heads snap to Felix, “Come here Mariah.” One of the hound’s trots over to Felix, tongue out as she pants, “Stay with Lola.”

Mariah huffs as if she were disappointed, and Lilith swears when she tips her head its like she just said _no fair._ Yet, she drops with another huff next to Lola, looking sadly up at Felix, her tail wagging slowly.

Felix smiles down at her, patting her head and feeding her a chunk of meat, “Good girl.” That makes her tail wag a little faster.

Felix nods and pushes himself back to his feet, looking to Lilith and Sloan, frowning, “You two ready?”

Lilith isn’t ever ready for a decent, not really. It’s not the same as crossing the killing thresh hold, it’s something deeper, darker, can only be reached when a mage _tried_ to sink into their Level Of Violence.

“Yes.” She says instead.

The three of them circle up, facing each other, and take a breath to centre themselves.

Lola leans to Wine, Coffee and Edge, her eyes still that unnerving, acid green, “If you want to say goodbye, I would do it now.” Wine and Edge look at her, faces scrunching with confusion as Coffee takes what she says at face value.

He doesn’t hesitate to approach Felix, tapping him on his shoulder almost desperately, drawing his attention, pulling him from the circle, “You okay Coffee?”

Glancing up at him from under his hood, Coffee slowly opened his arms, almost like a question, and Felix blinks at him, “Oh. Okay.” And opens his own arms to him, his armor shiny and heavy, allowing Coffee to close the space between them quickly, wrapping his thin arms around Felix’s chest tightly. Thin fingers grip onto his heavy chest plate as Coffee buried his face into the crook of Felix’s shoulder, pressing his teeth against the bared flesh of the mage’s throat.

Felix goes ram rod straight, before his heavier arms went around Coffee’s thin, delicate shoulders, his cheek laying on top of his skull, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

He gives Coffee one last, tight squeeze, before he turns back to his sisters, giving Coffee and his brother a sad look. Lilith gives Edge the same look before she turns to face Felix, as Sloan glares at the castle.

When she looks back to her brother and sister, they’re both ready for her, and they each reach for the other, creating a complicated knot of a star between them. As one, they take a breath, and Lilith’s voice is cold when she asks, “You ready?”

Sloan and Felix both nod and they close their eyes, breathing slow. For a tense moment, nothing happens, the mages keep breathing, clinging to each other as they do so. Edge and Wine share a look of concern, and its Nightmare who first gets the feeling of pure _chaotic_ energy _._

It’s the sort of thing that he could have fed from for months, it’s deep, and full of anger and sorrow. Rage and a violent need, and it startles him when he feels it from the mages, “Lola,” he starts slowly, uncrossing his arms, “What are they doing?”

Lola sighs, “We call it descending.” She glances away before looking to her siblings, “See, falling past the killing thresh hold is easy with LV, makes playing a war not so hard. But to really dig deep, to get into your LV fully, you need to purposely decent into it. We used to do it a lot in the war,” she gives a little shrug, “you run the risk of never coming out of it, but sometimes descending was the difference between life and death.”

She winces as she continues, “We all have high LV so we need to help each other decent. That’s what they’re doing.”

Wine blinks and Edge looks worried as Nightmare slowly asks, “They’re purposely inducing a LV psychosis?”

Lola nods, feels power and magic gathering between her siblings, “Yeah.”

Glass takes a step back, reaching to pull Lola with him but hesitates as he asks, “How high an LV are we talking?”

Lola slowly turns to look at them, the cold from her expression knocked away with shock, “None of you have Checked any of us?” Their blank looks tell her that, no, they hadn’t and her eyes widen,“Oh.”

The three mages in the circle suddenly loosen as their eyes snap open, and their unhampered power, raw and terrible and unchained, begins to swirl around them in a cloud of crimson, cyan and gold. They let their vice and LV out of its box and the influx of magic is a ripple of power so strong it nearly knocks the monsters off their feet.

It pushes them all back a step, causes the ground beneath their feet to tremble as Death, War and Pestilence wake from their slumber; Edge throws his arms over his face to protect his sockets, and he has no idea how the others are fairing as magic, dark, deep, cruel, war time magic swirls around the three mages.

Emotions so dark that Nightmare suddenly feels _energized_ just to be near them despite the light shards still trapped in his body, and he finds he misses their warmth as cold from their souls wash over him; their eyes flood black and the darkness creeps beyond the globes, creating reaching, bleeding ivy like tendrils. It stretches from their eyes to reach to their temples as they give into their LV, and their armor goes from obsidian to void black, deep and nothing.

Nightmare initiates a check. 

_Lilith: Battle Mage_

_LV: 19_

_HP:3200_

_AT:90_

_DF:90_

_Death walks among you now._

_Felix: Battle Mage_

_LV:19_

_HP:3000_

_AT:80_

_DF:100_

_Don’t pay war games._

_Sloan: Spell Caster_

_LV:19_

_HP:3500_

_AT: 85_

_DF:95_

_She’ll rot you from the inside out._

_Lola: Shield Mage_

_LV: 17_

_HP: 2500_

_AT: 70_

_DF:150_

_Beware Pandora’s box._

The ground stops trembling, and the mages don’t look to the knot of monsters. Whether that was because they couldn’t bare to see their horrified faces or not, no one would know for sure, but they turn as one as the lift their helmets to their heads, pulling them firmly on.

Black smoke leaks from the eyes of their helmets, like a thing from nightmares, and suddenly Nightmare can understand how the fuck they thrived in a war.

“Fuck me.” Glass says, voice pitched low in awe as they _strut_ passed Lola’s shield and towards the castle. Stunned sockets turn to Lola, mouth open wide, “How the fuck do ya have higher LV then me?”

Lola shrugged, “War.” She looks to Nightmare with those unnerving, acid green globes, “Don’t worry Nightmare.” He doesn’t like her dead voice, and misses the warmth from Lola, “They’ll keep you safe.”

No one had ever _tried_ to keep Nightmare safe, and here was a group of frighteningly powerful mages, promising just that. The hounds make a sharp bark before they trot after Felix, low like a hunting pride of lions, “But you best hurry, they aren’t going to wait.”

Nightmare glances to the mages as they make their way across the peaceful courtyard, Pestilence and the hounds come to a stop at the edge of the mote as Death and War trace to the wall of the palace. Gravity magic appear under their feet to distort reality, to change their gravity, before they trace upwards to the heavy chain that keep the thick draw bridge up.

Nightmare gives one last glance to the team they’re leaving behind, and wonders if the mage’s even need any of them before he turns himself to shadows to chase after his new group of highly trained killers.

Death and War have got the draw bridge down by the time he’s reformed his body next to Pestilence, cutting through the heavy chain like a hot knife through butter with summoned weapons. It slams into the catch points with a brutal bang, and Nightmare wonders how the hell they think this is being quite at all.

Or, if this was just their version of quiet.

The entrance to the palace is blocked by a heavy iron gate and behind it the guard is wide eyed, opened mouthed with shock. Nightmare is getting ready to slip past the bars when Pestilence begins to walk forward with that same, intimidating strut, the hell hounds surround her immediately with snarling, snapping teeth that makes the guard back up.

She lifts her hand coolly, twisting it elegantly as the battle mages drop on either side of her as she completes the spell and azure magic makes the iron glow. It begins to move upwards on its own, the crank that winds it clicks heavily, drawing panicked, frightened eyes of the plant monster with big teeth as he takes another step back until the gate lifts, clicks and stops.

Pestilence and the battle mages walk past the thresh hold like creatures from Hell, undaunted by what’s to come; and while Death and War stop just beyond the door, Pestilence walks to the guard. Her helmeted head tilts as he backs away from her, fear etched into his face as her violent intent rolls off her in heavy waves.

She throws him against the wall, pinning him as black, soulless lenses of the monstrous face of her helmet stare into the monster’s eyes. She snarls, anger and hatred piercing her soul adding to her growing fury but forces herself not to kill him. Oh no, there’s worse things then a quick death as she stares into his soul as her trait burns through her.

Pestilence pulls herself way from the trembling monster, the sharp scent of urine heavy in the air as she turns from him, “Nightmare.” Her voice is cold and cruel, and any musical lithe to it is gone, and Nightmare misses her voice, “This one touched Sin.”

Yet, she still brings him gifts, and when he smiles, its not a kind one, “Thank you Sloan.” She may not answer him, probably can’t in this frightening state, but Nightmare doesn’t need her too. No, later, when the killing is done, he’ll thank her right. He’ll help bring her back, and out of this deep, dark hole.

His smile widens, his sharp teeth back lit by azure magic, and his lower jaw splits apart like something from a horror movie and rows of sharp teeth snarl at the fucker who dare touch one of his. His tongue parts into three sections, each moving independently, and his parted jaw clamps onto the plant elemental’s throat before he can scream, taring into it easily and blood floods Nightmare’s mouth. It coats his face in gore and drowning out the screams as Nightmare digs for his soul.

The mages watch on coldly for a moment before they turn away and Pestilence pulls a shirt from her inventory, “This hasn’t been washed yet.”

Taking the shirt from her, War nods, voice coldly amused, bordering on madness, “Good.” And lifts the shirt to the three hounds to get a good sniff at it. Behind them, they pay no mind to the brutality happening, or even the sound of a monster turning to dust in Nightmare’s hands and mouth, the cruel soul devoured. Power flushes through Nightmare, making him shiver with how good he feels, how _strong_ , and he licks his teeth clean as his jaw stiches itself back together. 

He turns as the hounds lift their massive, heavy heads to sniff the air, the three circling the mages, huffing and snuffling, tracking the scent they’ve been told to follow, the one they need to find. They whine and whimper, bounce on their tippy toes, and each settled in a different direction of the castle.

Nightmare frowns as each one sits in a different place, whimpering and whining, and he looks around the too pretty front entrance of the castle, made of polished marble stone and gold. So much wasted wealth while the people starved.

So much wealth while the poor were enslaved, and someone touched Sin. Nightmare snarls, anger growing in his cold soul, and he hates the beauty of this castle and the horrors it hides, “What are they doing?” his voice is cold, and the light shard in his soul pulses with discomfort, and a small part of him cries out at the pain here. At the sheer suffering.

Funny, for all the horror his brother said he caused, and rest assured, he had, Dream never did anything to stop this from happening, did he?

Felix…no. This isn’t Felix who’s with them, who stands next to Nightmare and ready to wage a war to get back one of his. This was War, a LV 19 battle mage with vengeance in his heart and a magically summoned battle axe at his back, and a rifle at his hip.

War tilts his head, looking at the hounds, and when he speaks, it reminds Nightmare of Crow on bad days. Days when the insanity won out and his joyous tone in his voice was a dark ruse and he’s on the cusp of violence, “They can’t pinpoint Sin’s scent.” He sing-songs, “They’ve moved him recently and they can’t sort out which scent is freshest.”

Death looks at the three hounds, studying each one before she looks to the three with her, “We split up.” Lilith tended to have a monotone voice on the best of days, but the dead tone she spoke with now sent a shiver down Nightmare’s spine, and he missed what little inflection she did have.

War shakes his head no, “Stronger together.” He sing-songs again in that weird, creepy voice, like something from a slasher flick.

Death shrugs, “Strong alone.” She counters in that eery calm voice, “Strong enough. Remember, this is a rescue mission. Sin is the priority, everything else is secondary. They haven’t noticed we’re here yet, the guard didn’t have time to raise the alarm, if we’re quick they won’t even know we’re here.”

War sighs as Death turns to Nightmare, her head tilting, “You know the layout, what are we heading into?”

Nightmare looks left, then right before he settles back on the mages. He nods towards Molly, “Bath house is that way.” Then he turns to Maggie, “Dungeon.” Then Mable, “The war room and the royal bed chambers.”

The mages look in the directions he’s pointed out and nod. “Alright,” Death says in the same cold voice, “We split up. I’ll take the bath house. War go check the dungeons. Pestilence take Nightmare and check the bed chambers. Radio it in when you find him.”

“Everyone here, isn’t good.” Nightmare says suddenly, drawing their terrifying gazes and he feeds off the darkness inside them. Worries that he won’t be enough to pull them out of this hole, “After Sin left for the assassins guild, their Undyne started a rebellion, spurred on by Papyrus’s death.”

There’s a creek of armor as Death squeezes her fists closed and there’s a ripple of sheer hatred from War’s aura, “Any one worth saving left with her. The guards still here want this to continue and would hurt Sin if given the chance. Guards that _have_ hurt the servants and slaves here.”

War snorts, his voice uneven when he chuckles, “No mercy run then.” He sighs, and it makes Nightmare shiver at his choice of words, too many genocide worlds for that to be a coincidence.

Silently they nod with a dark understanding, and although Nightmare agrees with War that splitting up isn’t a great idea, he doesn’t say a thing. They need to find Sin, and the quicker they do, the better, even if it means separating for a while.

“Be safe.” Pestilence calls to her brother and sister, and they both pause before moving away.

“Be well.” Death calls out coldly.

“Don’t fucking die.” War shouts as he turns away, unholstering his rifle as Maggie trots next to him.

Nightmare snorts before he can stop himself, because of _course_ that’s Felix’s words before they separate, his words to hang onto.

He falls in step next to Pestilence and finds his misses Sloan. Misses her smile and warmth, misses her voice, would rather have that then the power that feeds into his soul next to him. Pestilence is a powerhouse of dark magic and sheer violence, and Nightmare frowns when he knows he would rather have Sloan next to him.

Yet, she and her siblings deemed it necessary that they _descend_ to get Sin back and he won’t shame that sacrifice by wanting for something else.

“I’ll keep you safe.” Pestilence tells him softly as they climb the winding staircase towards the royal chambers, Mable trotting behind him, drawing his gaze up to the heavily armoured mage and the horrifying helmet.

Nightmare nods, face grim despite the weird feeling in his soul, one he can’t describe at someone wanting to keep him safe. Someone, a powerful someone, was even willing to keep him safe as they walk willingly into hell. 

It’s a…novel feeing.

He buries it for later, unaccustomed to _not_ be the strongest in a room, but doesn’t hate it.

“I’ll return you to your family.” Is the closest thing to a promise he can give her, and it’ll have to do.

Pestilence nods, magic sparking at her fingers as they come to the landing, and Nightmare hates the lavish castle, knowing that one of his own suffered here.

They were going to burn down everything in their path to get him back; Nightmare laughs and revels in the power the three mages have fed into his dark soul unintentionally. He hasn’t felt this good, this powerful, in ages, and he’s going to use it to get Sin back.

-

Stalking down the too pretty, marble hall, Death feels nothing from her deep well of power and LoVe, numb from the inside out, and she revels in her power. Light shines off her void black armor, reflects off it like a shield is deflecting the light, and she tastes the sweet ache of violence to come on her tongue.

 _ ~~Be careful.~~_ A voice from the past reminds her, _~~There are always consequences for descending into LV Lilith.~~_ Right, don’t decent too deeply, else you may be stuck down here. _~~You need to make sure that the consequences are worth what you’re about to do. Is it?~~_

She doesn’t recall the last time she remembered Altaive’s voice with such clarity. They were underground, at least, and his teachings had helped her become what she was today and knew it to be true. Knew that falling too deeply or staying too long soaking in the dark poison that was LV, and one day you might not pull yourself out of that hole.

There had been days when she felt like she would never climb out of her own pool of dark magic and violence; days, weeks, when the fighting was at its worse, and she hadn’t felt a thing. Hadn’t been horrified by the killing around her, hadn’t been terrified by her own brutality.

_~~No, that all comes later. In the emotional back lash if your lucky to feel again, if your lucky not to be sucked into the madness of LV and stop being yourself.~~ _

_~~How many mages had she ended when they lost themselves? How many of her own had she killed because that was the kinder of all the shitty options given?~~ _

Always best to be careful when you dabble in your LV, just in case and she didn’t want to be a husk of who she used to be. She promised Sans she would come home, and that meant mentally as well.

_~~Even the darkness within purrs at the thought of her mate, and fuck she loved Sans. Would do anything to keep him safe, would become anything, even at the cost at gathering more EXP to tack on to an already high kill count.~~ _

_~~Her vice ripples with agitation, spiking hard in her chest and her curled fists tightens.~~ _

_~~Someone took her sister’s favorite. Someone hurt her Den mate, and they’d pay for their transgression. This wasn’t like their underground; this wasn’t like what happen to Sans or the battle with Chara. No, this was a war waiting to happen, and the dark part of her soul throbs with pleasure at the idea.~~ _

_~~The though of blood and dust on the ground, on her hands and stuck to her skin is suddenly a delightful one. How long had it been since the war, how long has she truly let loose and let her vice off its chain? Her LV out of its box? She shivers at the thought of terrible things, anticipates the feeling of violence and power, and…~~ _

Focus, she reminds herself. Don’t go too deep, you’re here for Sin. Anything beyond his rescue is just a bonus.

Death takes a breath, settles herself as she follows Molly’s nose through the hallways as the hellhound leads her deeper into the castle. It was quite in this part of the palace, an odd occurrence and she wonders if its because of the bath house’s location, but she can’t help but wonder at how depleted their numbers are.

_~~Gonna be a few less!~~ _

She shoves that gleeful thought down hard, focuses on the task at hand, ignores how little resistance she’s faced so far; a guard or two, leaving behind dust and abandoned armor.

She won’t enjoy this, _she wont_. _~~She will.~~_ Is the wicked thought that won’t go away, and she refuses to be what she was during the war, refuses to enjoy this like she had enjoyed the war, she wasn’t like that anymore. She wasn’t, she was better now.

She built a life back home, was a better person now. Maybe not good, but better. She had Sans in her life now, and she could be better for him. Her funny Judge, who wouldn’t judge her for what she was, and she wanted him to be proud of her.

 _ ~~What if it was Sans?~~_ Is a gleeful, cruel thought that has Death gritting her teeth and a snarl bubble at her throat, and she tightens her grip over her LV. She controlled it; it didn’t control her.

Taking a breath, she and Molly turn down another hall, and the hell hounds’ ears went back flat to her head. Her mouth pulls into a snarl and her massive head lifts to growl at the double doors at the end of the hall. ~~~~

Tilting her head, Death’s Gaster blaster like helmet catches the light of the hallway as she takes in the polished wooden doors and the intricate carvings that decorate it. Too pretty a face too hide such horrors, and Death itches to destroy the wooden surface as a warning to the ugliness that lays within.

She ignores the impulse, licking her teeth, the movement hidden by the heavy helmet, she pats Molly’s massive, hulking shoulder, “Good girl.” She tells the hound, getting a little tail wag from the massive creature at her side.

Rolling her shoulders back, she makes for the bathhouse with confident, even steps, hips rolling as she moves with a predatory grace. She drops even lower into her LV and knows what she’s going to find just beyond the door.

She pauses, only for a moment, to turn to Molly, her voice firm, “Sit.” With a huff, and Death swore the hound frowned at her, her bum hits the floor. It was almost a sulk, and Death shook her head, “Let me check it out first. See what we’re dealing with.”

The hound huffed angrily, and Death swears she _saw_ an eye roll.

Sarcastic hell hound.

With a last pat between her ears, Death pushes her way through the doors slowly, reeling in her intent, trying not to be a threat or seem like one. Not yet, not until she’s ready to play her hand.

The bath house isn’t what she would have expected it to be, it’s as if someone took a movie from the eighties and based the room around that; the walls and floor are slippery marble, several pools of hot water dot the room, each with a half dozen monsters.

The room goes silent around her as careful eyes scan the room, hating the soothing sounds from the waterfalls. It makes her vice rumble unhappily at this mockery of peace and pleasure, to know that one of _hers_ had been hurt here.

That these monsters had hurt Sin, dehumanized him and tried to break him. Her vice vibrates with fury, and the part that was still _Lilith_ gives in to her LV; just for now, just for a little while, and she feeds into the rage. There’s a shift inside, as two halves become one, with a singe goal of making them _pay._ Sin isn’t here, but his abusers are.

What luck, that lady Fate smiles upon Death today.

A bun, a massive, strong looking bun, stands from a pool with confusion and anger in his eyes, “Who the fuck are you?”

Death’s head tilts towards him, her hand flexing at her side and she tucks her rifle closer to her lower back. No, this calls for blades, she thinks, “A personal guard of the Princess.” She lies smoothly, coldly. She wants to know how much they tell give her; she wants to know what information they are willing to spill.

The bun frowns, his long ear twitching as if he can sense something was wrong. Death continued in her smooth, monotone voice, her face hidden by a monstrous helmet, “I’m taking a report.” She almost stumbles over Sin’s name, “On what happened to Sans.”

The bun blinks at her before his grin grows slow and cruel, “Oh.” He grins to his compatriots, puffing himself up like he was important, “You want to know how I fucked him ‘till he cried?”

Something bends in Death’s soul at those crass words, something dark and angry, her hands ball into fists as the others laugh.

“You mean how we fucked him ‘till he bled.” Another laughed, “A shame that his brother’s dead. I bet he’d have been as fucking tight.”

Something darker shifts inside the battle mage’s soul, power rippling under her skin and fury clawing at her throat. Her mana lines flood with power as her body is swamped with adrenaline.

“I wish I was here.” A woman sighed sadly, disappointed, some kind of fish monster with massive eyes, “I hear Sans is great with his mouth.” Somewhere inside of Death, Lilith cringes at hearing her boyfriends name being spoken like that, as if she wanted to take away his freedom. She wanted to break him.

 _ ~~SHE DOES~~_ Her vice screams from within, making Lilith and Death breath as one, descending deeply into her LV and this time, just this once, she’ll enjoy this.

They hurt one of hers, where a threat and would go on to hurt others.

_~~Just like~~ _ _~~Durhem and the~~ _ ~~_Kehtor_~~

And battle mages don’t leave threats to linger.

“Maybe next time.” Another bun laughs, bringing Death’s attention back to them, “After Asgore’s done playing with him.”

It makes laughter ripple around the room, and Death nods, “As I thought.” She says softly, in that unnerving, dead tone and her aura slips a little more. Around the room, the monsters feel her intent change, shifting into something darker, cruller and the laughter peters out.

They shift uncomfortably as they sense something wrong, something dark flood the room. Something that had been well contained within the body of a mage.

Saying nothing more, she turns for the door, giving them her back as a sign of disrespect, that they aren’t a threat as she opens the door, “I lied.” She tells them coldly, and behind her the monsters gasp at the sight of the massive skull like head of a hell hound.

Molly is low, all snarling teeth and snapping jaws; her ears have been pinned back to her skull and her eyes glow like hell fire. She moves slowly, low to the ground like a big cat about to pounce, eyes flashing from monster to monster before settling on the biggest bun.

The hound’s mouth pulls back into a wider snarl, the hair raising along her hackles to make her look bigger and around the room, the monsters scramble from the baths. Magic sparks at their fingers, but Death and Molly pay them no mind as Death closes the door when Molly has crossed the thresh hold and locks the door.

The largest bun snarls, daring to take a step forward, his own fur on end in an attempt to fluff himself up to look larger as his comrades pull themselves out of the pools of warm water, “Who the fuck are you?”

Death doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to waste her breath on the dead, and rather give him a shitty one liner, she summons a dagger, throwing it at one of the big one’s friends, catching the Knight knight in the throat, blood and magic spurting thickly from the wound.

Molly lunges for the largest bun with sharp claws and snarling teeth, and he thinks he’s ready for her as magic sparks at his fingers; Death disappears in a cloud of smoke of crimson and black as Molly’s massive weight knocks the bun to the ground.

Her snarl is muted as her jaws lock around his throat and his gurgling cry is muffled as he chokes on his own blood. He tries to summon an attack, but the magic fizzles at his fingers as the hell hounds’ jaws latch around his skull with a crushing force that makes him go limp.

Death appears in the middle of the room, skipping back as the bun turns to dust, three more knifes are thrown with practised precision, burying into soft, unprotected throats in a splattering of dust and blood. Spinning for the knight knight, Death wields her long swords with ease, slashing through her belly without hesitation as Molly lunges for a Madjick, snapping his tiny body in half with massive, powerful jaws.

Magic, heavy and hot, explodes against Death’s pauldrin, burning like acid, and makes her armor bubble through. She thinks she can smell her own skin sizzle at her shoulder as she turn slowly the fish monster with big eyes, leaving the knight knight to hit the ground at her back, trying desperately to hold her intestines inside of her body as she fades into dust.

Heavy boots bring Death to the fish monster, and already she’s readying another attack, ready to spit acid at the mage, and Death laughs and welcomes the attempt.

Molly is already on another monster, snarling, snapping teeth tearing at the flesh of a face, magic bouncing off her thick pelt like armor, and Death walks calmly to the monster who spits acid.

Around them is chaos, monsters trying to make it to the locked door, only to receive a knife to the back from quick hands and sure aim. Half paying attention to the door, Death turns for the acid spitter, and grins.

She’s going to have a great time.


	20. To Open the Gates of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mage's make their final play for Sin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Another chapter and the finale of this saga, and the mage's try to bring Sin home. 
> 
> Just as a heads up, the next chapter is coming in around 16k words, so it's going to be a beast to edit. So, the chapter after that one (Chapter 22) may be delayed due to editing, or much shorter to keep on schedule. Haha, that being said, chapter 22 is already around 1800 words, so we'll see. 
> 
> As always, please read the warnings and tag. :) 
> 
> WARNINGS: death moderate description, dismemberment moderate description, torture moderate description, soul eating, wide scale death.

Roaming the halls of the dungeon, War sighs in annoyed boredom. The few guards down here were easily dispatched, leaving his hands dusty and utterly unsatisfied.

Maggie continued along her way, nosing the dirty, damp ground, following Sin’s scent, and differentiating between Sin’s magic and the old, sticky blood on the cold stone. Somewhere inside, Felix frets, hopes that Sin’s dust isn’t among the blood. He _can’t_ bring Sin back to his sister in a fucking bag, but War shakes off the fear.

Mage’s don’t get afraid, they don’t doubt, and War refuses anything but victory and so help him, they’ll find Sin.

Or, he’ll burn this place to the ground, and makes them wish they never stepped foot in their universe. Grinning to himself, War finds the idea pleasing, but hates the idea of losing one of his own. No, they had lost too many already, and he refuses to lose more.

Maggie suddenly sits, panting happily while her tongue lolled loosely at the side of her moth, next to a cell that looks just like all the others. A dark, heavy door charmed within an inch of its life, with heavy, thick bars at the window and utterly boring.

Boring is good, he reminds himself. Means that no one important is dead.

Giving his hound a little scratch between her ears, he gives her a nod, “Good girl.” He tells her making her yip happily, her tail wagging fast behind her.

Turning to the cell, War dares to hope to find Sin, alive and safe inside, but his soul churns with the thought that Fate has not smiled on him like that today.

Still, he grips the handle, squeezing with clawed gauntlets, and with magic coursing through his body, pulls the door, charms and all, from its hinges. He drops it to the floor with a heavy, horribly wet thud and is disappointed to find the cell empty.

Empty, save for the smell of a dirty body and spoiled magic. Empty save for the fucking marrow and other fluids that splatter the floor.

Fury claws at War’s soul, makes him see red to find yellow magic splattering the ground from damage and what is clearly cum, and it makes him shake with rage.

“ _Fuckers_.” He sneers, more of a snarling growl, and the demon inside rattles with agreement. Briefly he tries to take over, but War shoves him down. Not now, no, they don’t need him. War will deal with it.

With a snarl, he turns away, Maggie happily following him at his heels, tail wagging as he reaches for his throat, clicking on the coms, “He’s not in the fucking dungeon.”

The radio screams with static before Pestilence’s cold voice calls distinctly trough the radio, “Not in the bed chambers.”

War shivers, _thank fuck for that_ , “Death, he in the bath house?” he snaps, anger getting the better of him, making him irritable.

Nothing but static answers back, like bitter white noise. Fear pulses through War’s soul and for a moment, he thinks the worse.

Relief centres him, and he grins when Death’s cold voice calls through the coms, “Not in the bath house.” There’s a sound of magic being fired and Molly snarling, cutting off a terrified shriek, “Head for the war room.” She says coldly.

War’s brows furrow, and he asks, insulted, “Are you fighting?”

Radio static is his answer for longer then he would have liked, his agitation growing before Death called back, “Yes.”

“Bullshit!” he spits into the radio, magic sparking at his fingers as rage overtakes his soul, “We’re not supposed to be fighting.”

He can practically hear the shrug in her icy tone, “I happened upon the right room.” Its so nonchalant, its irritating. 

War rolls his eyes, annoyed at the sound of someone screaming, the sound of magic being fired, and the satisfied sounds Death makes when she breaks someone’s bones.

“You’re an asshole.” He spits back at her, eyes pulsing with dark magic.

“Should have taken the bath house.” She tells him mildly, and War kicks a door as Death clicks the com line off.

“Dick.” He muttered to himself, Maggie trotting happily behind him, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, tail wagging in wide sweeps. 

Huffing, War knows he doesn’t mean it, he’s stressed and lashing out because he’s worried about Sin, and somehow it’s not fair that his sister gets to work out her anger on the douche-canoes who did all the damage. 

Thumbing the handle of his axe, War turns down another hallway, annoyed and bitterly disappointed that they hadn’t found him yet, passing by a door that looked the same as all the others. Thick and heavy, with a barred window, but a flash of blue scales and bright red hair make War stop.

He pauses in the hallway, head titling before he takes several steps backward to peer into the cell, “Undyne?” surprise makes its way into his voice, and he’s soothed to see the face of a Den mate.

Even the face of a not-Den mate, its still a close second.

The not-quite Undyne lifts her head to him, eye patch gone and the globe of a milky white eye stare back at him with a frown, “Who are you?” her voice is rough, like she hasn’t had a proper drink in days, sounding like she’s having a hard time speaking.

War’s mouth opens, stills before he clears his throat, “Felix.” His name helps centre himself, helps him _ascend_ from the depth of his LV. He knows what he looks like when he’s fallen too deeply, knows he’s frightening to look at and he doesn’t want to scare her.

Not if she was Sin’s friend, not when she’s in a dungeon and Felix wrestles control back from the darkness in his soul. The chains of control latch back onto his LV and he shoves his vice back into its box, ignoring its howls of protest, how this wasn’t fair.

Lilith was using her LV and vice, why couldn’t Felix? Why couldn’t War keep them off their chains a little while longer?

_~~Because that’s how it gets you. LV and your vice will trick you into letting it say lose, trick you into giving up control, and when it’s time to put it away, don’t give into its sweet, wonderful power.~~ _

Felix shoves his vice and LV down, grapples for control so that when he speaks with this Undyne, his voice isn’t so manic, “I’m a friend of Sin’s.”

The not-Undyne frowns at him, squinting at him with confusion, “Who?” 

Felix pauses, brow furrowing under his heavy, dog like helmet, “Oh. Right.” He remembers where he is and what Sin’s name was here, “Sans. I’m a friend of Sans.” It feels weird to call Sin by Sans’s name, like putting a sock on the wrong foot.

Not-Undyne’s eyes widened, and there’s a spark of joy in her face that makes something hurt in Felix’s soul, “Sans is alive?” the hope in her voice was enough to cripple someone.

She pulls herself off her cot, crossing unsteadily to the door to grip at the bars at the window, almost desperately, “They don’t have him, do they?”

Hesitating, Felix sighs and nods yes, and grief crumples not-Undyne’s expression as it falls into sadness, “Shit.” Her forehead fell against the heavy door with a dull crack, and not-Undyne sounds so disappointed, “I always hoped he got away from them. I always hoped, Sans at least, escaped.” Her head shakes against the door, “I never wanted this.”

Greif wells in this Undyne, and her voice is small, “I should have done more.” She says weakly against the door, “I could have saved them then.”

The hurt makes something press inward in Felix’s soul but he’s quick to push it away, “Well, that’s why we’re here.” Not-Undyne looks up at him, a frown on her face, “We’re here to get Sans.” His hands wrap around the handle to her cell and he shakes his head, “Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to change anything, change what you can now, be better.” And he pulls the door from its hinges, charms and all, throwing the door to the floor as he steps back.

Her mouth falls open with surprise as the door is pulled off its hinges, eyes widening, “Who are you?”

“Sans’s friend.” Felix tells her as he takes a step back, head titling, “Why are you in the dungeon anyways?”

Taking a step out of her cell, not-Undyne glances around with a frown, as if she can’t quite really believe this has just happened to her, “I’m awaiting execution.” She tells him, looking around with wide eyes. Her words make Felix go still and anger bubble again as she continues, “After Papyrus was murdered, I knew I couldn’t stand by the King anymore.” Her voice is soft and sad, hurt that she couldn’t save her friend, “I started the rebellion, freed Snowdin and Waterfall from Asgore’s rule.”

“Huh.” Felix tries to put his hands into pockets he doesn’t have, awkwardly sliding his hands along his thighs, “Well. You’re free now, so go lead the uprising.”

Felix turns to go; Sin is the priority and this was his one good deed, his one detour before he found his own, when not-Undyne calls out, “Wait!” huffing a sigh, Felix turns back towards her, head tilting, his dog like helmet canting, “My people.” She tells him a little helplessly, looking down the hall of the dungeon, “I can’t do what you just did.”

She gives him an imploring look, a hopeful look, and Felix sighs as something in his soul bends a little. How could he say no when it was his Den mate’s hopeful face staring back at him, asking for help with her eyes more then anything else.

Huffing out a deep breath, Felix nods, “Fuck.” He muttered before he addressed not-Undyne, “Alright, come on. Let’s go.”

There’s a hopeful light that sparks in not-Undyne’s eyes, and Felix can’t help but feel good about his choices. Maggie trotted happily next to him, tail wagging in wide circles as they set to work at freeing rebels.

Fuck it, if Lilith got to exact revenge, Felix could show mercy.

-

Walking from the royal chambers, Pestilence tries not to let her fear through, no matter how hard it tries to burn its way through from her soul. She refuses to believe that Sin is dead, he’s not and so help her, she will find him.

At her side, Nightmare’s steps are quick and precise to keep up with her longer stride, his hands are stuffed into his pockets as he tries to stride for faux nonchalant, but she can see how his tentacles tremble at his back as if he’s having a hard time keeping them smooth. They’ve been sharpened to dangerous points and his mouth may have smoothed out to flat, even teeth, but the line in his lower jaw is still there and she doubts it would take much to push him towards splitting it apart to get a better bite.

It settles her to have Nightmare at her side as they stride to the war room, glad to have him near to better protect him from whatever they may find. Better to keep him from seeing things, he doesn’t need to see.

Looking ahead, Pestilence recentres herself, and magic burns at her hands, itching to be used and somewhere deep inside, she has a passing thought that Sans would find this hilarious; Pestilence and Nightmare walk into a bar.

There’s a pulse of fondness for her Den mate and her sister’s mate, and she suddenly has a very clear understanding of Lilith’s desperation to get back to Sans after Gaster saved her from the void. No doubt, it’s the same soul deep anxiety that she’s feeling now.

Pushing that away, she takes a breath, and rolls her shoulders back, getting a better handle on her magic before they reach the war room; Mable trotting just ahead of them, nose to the ground as she followed Sin’s scent.

The fear is starting to creep again, and she’s afraid they won’t find Sin, or worse, find his cloths full of his dust. _~~Her heart and soul cramp at the thought, of losing Sin already; to be the one to fail him because she hadn’t kept him safe.~~_

_~~He’s been so hurt already, and she doesn’t want this to be his end. No, that would be unfair, and she won’t allow it.~~ _

_~~What she found in Toriel’s bed chambers had been bad enough, the evidence of what had happened had made Pestilence see red and she swore she would murder the Queen for laying hands on him.~~ _

Mabel slowed to a stop and she sat in front of a large, double door entrance with dark oak doors and gold trim. Her mouth pulled back into a snarl to bare teeth at the door, ears pinned back and her eyes glowed bright orange with rage.

Pestilence and Nightmare slow to a stop, and he frowns at the hound’s reaction, “What is she doing?”

Navy magic sparks at Pestilence fingers, “This is where the scent is coming from.” She moves slowly to stand in front of the door, widening her stance to prepare for a fight, and her dark eyes narrow on the door, “and she senses a threat.”

Nightmare blinks at her before a snarl ripples out of his throat, and his tentacles are poised to attack, his mouth rippling into sharp teeth and a grimacing mouth.

“I don’t know what we’ll find inside. But let me do the talking.” She tells him coldly, and Nightmare isn’t stupid enough to disagree with her. He settles next to her, head tipping downward, eye light narrowed on the gold handles and draws on the dark power that Pestilence is radiating.

Nodding, Pestilence steps forward, pushing the two doors open, magic rippling around her as the lock is snapped, her magic rips through the charms on the doors and the heavy oak snaps off its hinges. The doors fall inward with the force of her push, and Pestilence steps in the war room with a hell hound to her left and Nightmare at her right.

Before her is a horrible scene, one that makes her teeth grit and magic spark at her fingers as Nightmare snarls, his shoulders haunching like he’s readying himself to launch at the nearest monster. 

A dozen faces look up and to them from their half moon shaped table. Asgore in the dead centre of the table with a frown pulling at his mouth, his great head tilting, his massive horns sparling high above him. He’s bigger than their Asgore, but Pestilence isn’t afraid of him, and something akin to fury crawls in her soul.

Toriel, bigger and colder then their own, to his direct left and Frisk to Toriel’s left.

In the centre of the room is what draws Pestilence’s attention immediately, and it’s with a mixture of sweet relief and deep horror that she finds Sin. He’s flat on his back, bruised all to hell, his thin, skeletal hands gripping loosely at Asriel’s thick wrist as the Prince keeps him pinned to the stone floor by squeezing at his throat.

There’s marrow and spilt magic in a puddle that he’s laying in and his skull is bruised from the beating he was currently taking. Marrow pours from his mouth sluggishly from where Asriel had laid into him with brutal attacks, and Pestilence thinks she can see a tooth wiggle. The bottom crack by his socket had widened, more marrow spilling from the broken bone that smeared over his face, and that eye light flickered dimly.

Those were the wounds they could see, and Pestilence feels cold fury crawling up her spine like her sins, and her gauntlets creaked when she squeezed her fists closed.

The room goes silent, Asriel stilling with his fist pulled back and readying for another strike, and even Sin’s bruised face scrunches in confusion briefly when he stares at Pestilence’s monstrous helmet. Relief swell through him so suddenly that he laughs a little when he realizes they must be there for him; when he shifts his gaze downward to Nightmare his grin sends a fresh cascade of marrow down his chin.

His laugh is bitter, and if it’s closer to a half sob, no one says a thing as Asgore stands, hands flat to the table, fury in his eyes, “Who are you?” he snarls, mouth pulled into a sour grimace, eyes flashing with displeasure.

Nightmare bares his teeth at him as Pestilence slowly lifts her hand to her throat, clicking on the com line, “I found him, war room. “

From deep within the dungeon, Felix freezes next to not-Undyne, looking at the half dozen cells they still need to open, and cringes as he drops the door he’s holding, “Uh. Be there is six.” He tells his sister through the line, already moving for the next door, not-Undyne on his heels.

From the bathhouse, Death stills from tearing the intestines from the belly of another monster, dust floating in the air like glitter all around her and Molly. It’s so thick, it sticks to her armor and Molly’s fur like a new layer of magic.

She rips the intestines from the gasping monster, ignoring how he turns to dust in her hands, ignores how another still has her sword impaled in his throat, pinning him to the wall as he choked on his own blood, “I’m on my way.” She says coldly through the com line before she reaches for her sword to pull it free.

The two monsters fall into dust as Molly crushes the skull of the last one, and when they leave the bath house for the war room, it’s full of dust and blood, thick and heavy as it coats everything. Scorch marks burn at the stone and marble falls from the pillars.

Death and Molly walk away relatively untouched by the brutality, save for the melted metal of her pauldrin.

Hearing her sibling’s voices calms Pestilence, knows they’re still alive and on their way. Rolling her shoulders to loosen them, she tucks her hands at her lower back, standing straight and tall, quietly summoning a ball of writhing tentacles of dark power in her palm.

“Give me Sin,” she stumbles over his name, like all the others have before her and Pestilence clears her throat, “Sans. And I will collect my brother and sister, and we will leave with no more death.”

Sin laughs harder at hearing Sloan’s voice, even if it’s flat and cold, the relief that _they came for him_ makes him laugh harder, nearing insanity that makes Sloan’s soul hurt to hear.

Pestilence widens her stance again, feels her soul grow calm and her vice ripples with excitement at what’s about to happen. She can see how Asgore’s face darkens at her audacity, at how they aren’t afraid of him, and there’s no way this overconfident fuck will give her Sin without a fight.

A fight that Pestilence is craving. 

Sin laughs again from the floor, squirming weakly under Asriel’s heavier body, wincing in pain, “You’re all going to die.” He rasps, and it hurts the part of Pestilence that is still Sloan to hear that voice laced with pain and to see him so beaten.

It sparks a storm of deep, dark emotion in Pestilence soul even as Asgore coldly says, “Guards, take them.”

Under the void black helmet, Pestilence smiles and she lobs the ball of writhing tentacles at the two guards that approach them from her right, slinging the magic over Nightmare’s skull; the magic explodes with power, the tentacles digging into their bodies as they scream, weaving in and out of their flesh, rotting them from the inside out.

Their screams turn to gurgling as they choke on their own blood and Mable launches herself at another guard, her jaws latching onto a heavy skull of a bear monster. Her heavier weight takes him to the ground, and she thrashes her head as she tries to tare the head from their shoulders.

Asriel stumbled off Sin’s body at the sudden attack, trying to crab walk away as Pestilence marches forward with the confidence of a powerful mage. Magic sparking at her fingers, her eyes focus on Asgore and Toriel, the two biggest threats in the room. 

Gaster stands, anger in his sockets as he lifts his hand to summon a blaster, but Nightmare was ready for him; taking him down his laughably easy this time, and he launches himself as Gaster, shoving him back into his chair. Nightmare’s momentum kept them moving, tipping them backwards and sending them crashing to the floor in a tangle of teeth and tentacles.

Pestilence grins fondly at her Nightmare as Gaster’s screams echo in the room, high and shrill, and it startles Toriel. Nightmare’s parted lower jaw tare into bone of his throat and his tentacles pull Gaster’s arms from his body like a cruel child killing a bug. There’s a horrible squelch of magic giving out as each limb is ripped from his body.

Already at her side, Mable has moved on to the next guard, dust in her mouth, teeth bared as she lunges at the next one. To her right, her tight control over her glob of tentacles is tight and impenetrable, the glob has already begun moving onto Asgore’s advisors and generals, the magic thickening and elongating into a heavy mass with her anger and the screams of the three it latches onto are like music.

She takes another step forward, deflecting a ball of fire into one of Asgore’s own generals, lighting her up without hesitations, an unstoppable force as she takes another step towards Sin. He’s curled himself into a small ball, skull pressed down and his hands over the back of his neck to protect himself, and his legs are pulled awkwardly up towards his chest, but its like he can’t quiet get them to work properly.

Asgore snarls, another ball of fire is shot at Pestilence, but its sloppy and fueled with anger, and she’s able to deflect it again, barely breaking a sweat as she summons water. She turns that pool into a typhon and shoots a jet so powerful at him it takes Asgore off his feet and slams him into the wall at his back.

There’s a pop as something in his spine breaks and the stones crack, and Pestilence takes a step over Sin, holding her ground in front of him, turning herself into a line that she won’t let anything passed.

Toriel stands up suddenly, hands slapping to the table when her husband doesn’t get up, her eyes turning orange with magic and fire snaps at her fingers. Her son has frozen in front of the table, his mouth open in horror, terror leaking from him when his father doesn’t move.

“Enough.” Toriel snapped with anger in her eyes as her gaze dances around the chaos in their war room; to Mable as she rips apart another advisor, to Nightmare as he tares Gaster’s soul from his body, fanged mouth taring into the soft organ of magic, and to the magical tendrils that are taring apart her generals despite the magic they launch at it.

Angry eyes fall back to Pestilence, and Queen Toriel rolls her shoulders back, drawing herself up taller, “You think to save him? _Him_? This worthless, pieces of shit?” her hand waves angrily at Sin, still small and quiet behind Pestilence, trembling on the stone ground and the mage snarls low in her throat.

“It is my right, as _Queen_ , to have him. To own him, as it is my given right by the Angel herself.” She sneered, fire magic erupting in her hand, eyes narrowed as she pulls the Princess from her chair to shove behind her, “And she will protect me now.” Her voice goes soft, almost with reverence when she speaks of the angle. 

Pestilence stares at her through the dark lenses of her helmet, head titling and when she laughs, its cold. It’s something cruel, and it makes Sin curl tighter into his ball at her cold words, “You think your angel will save you? She won’t.” Pestilence sing-songed, summoning her ball of shadowy tendrils, the magic bloated with power and stolen life as it curled around she and Sin, “Not when Fate brought me to you.”

Toriel snarled, launching her ball of fire at Pestilence; she’s ready for the attack, summoning water to launch back at the fire and the steam it creates burns at Asriel’s face as the two forms of magic slam into against each other, making the Prince scream.

Giving a slight nod, Pestilence sends her writhing ball of tentacles at Toriel, hidden by the clearing steam, the magic slamming into the Queen hard, making her scream as it weaves its way though her body. Toriel trips, falling backwards as her dust begins to fill the air as the ball of rot reaches for the King, and his cries of agony join his wife’s.

Pestilence doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch even as the Princess backs away screaming, eyes wide with panic and fear. Asriel hasn’t moved from his balled position from the floor in front of the table, eyes wide from between his thick fingers, trembling at the horror around them. Dust is thick in the air, heavy and choking, but Pestilence isn’t mildly horrified by the death she has caused. 

Nightmare stands, wiping the marrow from his face, smearing it across his skull and mouth, his teeth pulling into a cruel smile as he pins Asriel with his stare. He pulls himself up onto the table, crouching low as if he’s readying to launch himself at the Prince, his hands dangling between his bend knees, his own tentacles thrashing angrily behind him, “Don’t move.” He coos to the Prince as Mable joins him on the able, mouth parted and snarling.

Toriel’s screams become a gurgle as blood fills her throat, and only then does Pestilence turn her back on the Prince and kneel next to Sin.

“Sin?” she asks as softly as she can, a hesitant hand reaching out to his shoulder, laying it on his trembling body, cringing back a little when he flinches away from her.

She needs to get her vice and LV under control, and with a breath, Pestilence starts to press her vice back into its box, “Sweetie?” she asks carefully, almost sounding like herself again, but still that cold edge remains, “Sin, it’s okay, we’re here now.”

Beneath her hand, Sin trembles violently, and her soul hurts that he’s so _afraid,_ “Sin?”

She can feel him trying to get himself under control, he’s shaking so hard she can hear his bones rattle but she can see him swallow down a gulp of air hard before he moves slowly, “I’m okay.” He muttered thickly as he slowly rolled over, flinching again in pain, his bruised bones making him look all the more battered, “Hey Sloan.”

Relief washes over her heavily, and she’s able to put the chains on her LV a little more easily as she reaches for her helmet. She pulls it off slowly, still trying to bury her vice, but Sin doesn’t flinch at her wall to wall black eyes or the dark, creeping darkness over her skin, “Hey sweetie.”

He laughs a little hysterically at her voice, his battered face brightening into a smile despite how he trembled. That smile, his eye lights, seeing that he’s alive, it’s all enough to help Sloan put the rest of her vice and LV, everything that made her Pestilence, back into its box. 

The creeping ivy of darkness fades from her skin, and the darkness evaporites from her eyes and bright cyan reflects at Sin. At long last, she feels like herself, she feels like Sloan, and she doesn’t have the words to describe how relieved she is to be able to touch him.

Yet, she keeps her hand to his shoulder, doesn’t touch him as much as she wants to quite yet, even as her eyes wander over his beaten skull, and wonders how many other injuries he’s hiding under his cloths. She doesn’t touch, she remembers in the war, when they took castles, and bases and fortresses, and the found their own people within, control over their own bodies was so important. 

Instead of assuming, she quietly asks, “Can I touch you Sin?”

The soft words bring tears to his sockets, that she’s talking to him like a person, like he mattered, and he nods yes, “Would you?” his voice is thick with emotion, and so terrible sad.

Sloan nods, knows Nightmare and Mable are watching over them silently, and won’t allow Asriel or Frisk to come near them. She reaches for him, touches his face first, her hands so light over the dark bruises and she uses her dark blue sash to wipe the marrow from his face.

He allows it passively, lets Sloan touch him softly, allows her to wipe away his gathering tears before she tugs him into a hug. Sloan pressed Sin against her body, clung to him tightly as her arms went over his shoulders and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck as his arms went under hers.

“I got you.” She whispered against his skull, held him tightly as he shook in her arms, “I got you.”

Sin nods against her, grips onto the back of her armor as tightly as he could, deeply afraid of being left alone again, “You came.” His voice is croaky and rough, thick with despair, and Sloan feels wetness at her throat from where he presses his sockets into her shoulder to hide his face.

“Of course we came.” She whispered back, hand flat on his mid spine, rubbing softly up and down, the soft leather of his coat comforting against her hand. Reminding her that Sin was alive and real, and in her arms. That she fucking had him, and all that laid hands on him where either dead or dying.

“We would never leave you here Sin, _never_.” She swore.

He nodded against her collar bone, and for a moment, Sloan just held him. Held him tightly under the safety of Mable and Nightmare that allowed her to drop her guard just a little, allowing her to be what Sin needed her to be.

The creek of a floorboard makes her look up, made her eyes darken from cyan to navy and the approaching footsteps made her snarl and tuck Sin closer to her heavily armored body. The ball of writhing tentacles leapt over the table to flair up around them protectively, ready to launch at anything that dare do Sin harm, and really, what’s a little more EXP?

Death slowly strolls through the doorway, the fallen double doors creek under her weight. With Molly at her side, she looks around the room as dust floats softly to the ground like snow and gore covers the walls.

Tilting her head, Death shoulders her weapon and Sloan shivers when she hears her sister’s dead, monotone voice, “Seems you didn’t need assistance.” Sloan hates that tone, that lifeless, smooth tone from the war.

Lilith is still elbows deep in her LV and vice, would probably stay there until they were all safely home before she would try to crawl out of that hole. It didn’t mean Sloan had to like it, nor would she be afraid of her sister.

Sloan shook her head no, “I had it covered.” She gives her sister a half smile as the ball of tentacles disappears to dust at Death’s appraising nod.

“We need to go. We’ll pick up Felix on our way out.” Death said coldly, glancing to Frisk and Asriel, hands balling into fists, “What about these two?”

Sloan is about to answer, is about to say they should kill them both and not to leave loose ends, when Sin’s soft voice warbles out, “I want to go home.”

Sloan can’t see her sisters face, doesn’t know what Death might be thinking, but she nods slowly and steps backwards, “Lets go.”

Sloan nods, looks over her shoulder as she’s quick to clip her helmet to her hip, “Come one Nights, we’re leaving.”

Giving the Prince and Princess one last sneering smile, Nightmare steps off the table with Mable, keeping himself between a potential threat and the hell hound. He licks his teeth clean of the gore, letting lose a threatening aura of despair, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you two later.” He called out mildly from over his shoulder as he gave them a mocking salute, his even steps brining him to Sloan and Sin.

Nightmare doesn’t know what to say to him, but Sin won’t lift his head to look to him. It’s okay, they have time. When Sin is ready to talk, they will, and in the meantime, Sloan had him.

“Okay sweetie.” Sloan says softly to Sin, ever so gently peeling him away from her shoulder, and Sin nearly collapses into himself. Tears stain his bruised face and he trembles so hard his bones rattle as he curls inward, “I know your tired, and I know your hurting,” She tells him softly, her hand reaching out to cup his battered cheek, brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling, “but we need to move.”

Death doesn’t try to rush him, doesn’t try to force him to stand and silently stands as a guard by the door, letting her sister sooth him.

“Do you want to try to stand on your own? Or would you rather I carry you?” Sloan’s voice is soft and careful, leaving it up to him to make his own choice.

He cringes inward, voice small, “I can stand.” The thought of being seen as any weaker, as any less, is worse then the pain he’ll endure by walking out of here.

“Okay. Do you want me to help?” Sin nods at her question, allowing Sloan to pull his arm over her shoulders, and her other arm went around his waist, “Okay, Sin, we’re going to stand slowly.”

He nods again, and slowly Sloan pushes them to their feet, moving carefully to get Sin up onto his own, “Good job Sin. You’re doing well.” She encouraged him, Nightmare taking a step towards him, to catch him, just in case he fell.

“Alright, lets take a step.” She encouraged him softly, and with a wince, Sin nods, taking a step with Sloan, leaning heavily onto her as he takes his first step towards freedom.

His second was a little harder, the broken bones in his pelvis shifting, but his third step has his legs buckling under his own weight as fire spreads through his body. With a cry of agony, he stumbles, Death shooting forward to grasp his free arm as gently as she could, and the sisters lower him back down.

“I’m fine.” He gasped, clinging to Sloan desperately, sockets watering as fire spreads through his body, “’m fine.”

Death took a knee in front of him, one arm stretched across her thigh, but she did not touch him as Sloan cradled him against her, “Where are you hurt?”

His head thrashes no against Sloan’s shoulder as her arms go around his chest to hold him steady, and his hand reaches out into the empty air for _something._ Nightmare catches his hand, and squeezes his fingers, the pressure a comforting one. 

“Where are you hurt Sin?” Death’s voice is icy cold, but as soft as she could make it.

“It’s okay Sin.” Sloan told him softly from behind him, one arm curling up so she could pet at his skull and that more then anything convinced him.

With a wince, he muttered, “Pelvis.”

Death nods, and Sloan’s eyes narrow and her heart pulses with terror at what they’ve done to him.

Death is unflinching, never one to cringe at the hard things, “Can I see?”

Sloan never did either, but this was _Sin_ , and she squeezes her arms a little tighter to hold him. At her side, Nightmare’s socket narrows and he silently threads his fingers through Sin’s.

Sin nodded, and only then did Death reach for his pants, hands moving carefully as she popped the button of his jeans and undid the zipper. Slowly, carefully, she undid his pants and hissed at the damage she found, at his broken, split pelvis, and there was another puff if black smoke from the eyes of her helmet.

Nightmare snarled as well, making Sin duck down and curl a little tighter into Sloan’s arms. Pain sung back to Sloan’s soul, and she couldn’t even imagine the agony he must be in. Can’t imagine the desperation if he thought he was going to walk out of here.

“Who did this?” Death asked softly as she did his pants back up, moving slowly and carefully as to not hurt him.

“’M sorry.” Sin muttered, head dipped down in shame, but Death is shaking her head no.

“Not your fault. Who did it?” she asked again, voice smooth and low as her hands fell carefully to his knees.

Beside them, Nightmare’s tentacles rattle, but he keeps his hand gentle on Sin as he holds his hand.

Sin’s fingers curl around his, his body shaking when he finally rasps, “Asriel.”

From behind them the Prince looks up in fear at his name being spoken to much stronger, far more vicious fighters and Nightmare’s face crumbles into anger, his sharpened teeth backlit by his azure magic.

Death nods, moving slowly she reaches for the clasps of her helmet to gently pull it off. Sloan feels her soul pulse again in pain, singing softly back to the battered soul in the monster she holds carefully; neither flinch as Death removes her helmet and black eyes stare back, the creeping ivy stretching to her temples.

Sloan curls around Sin like armor, and she catches her sister’s dark, furious gaze, giving her a firm nod. One that spoke volumes, and Sloan would only trust this in Death’s capable hands.

Death gives a small nod back before those cruel, dark eyes fall to Sin. Her voice is soft, as gentle as it could be when she says, “This wasn’t your fault Sin.”

Terrified, mortified eye lights lift to her cold face, and he has to remind himself that this is Sans’s mate, his ally. Maybe even his friend. That he didn’t need to be afraid of her, and he nods, “Okay.”

Death nods before her eyes flick up to Nightmare just before she stands, “Nightmare.” She says coldly as she reaches for a sword at her shoulder, helmet still on the floor and her magic ripples over the blade, “I need you to hold him down.”

Nightmare frowns at her as he soaks in her fury, watches quietly as her will changes the shape of her blade. Watches as the long sword becoming a heavy sledgehammer and Death shifts her grip on the weapon to accommodate its new form. She holds Nightmare’s gaze evenly, head titling, as she stares at him with dark intent, “We don’t typically leave loose ends to come back to attack us. But just this once, I’ll make an acceptation.”

Its takes Nightmare a moment to realize what the hell she’s talking about, eye light flicking to the hammer before it goes back to her face. His smile is slow to grow, wide and cruel, and his voice is just as cold as Death’s, “I’m glad you’re on our side.” He muses ideally, thick black tentacles stretching out to grasp at Asriel’s ankles, hauling him away from the table to pin down to the stone ground.

Death nodded blankly, ignoring the Princesses screaming to stop, “Most are.” She agreed with that eery, blank voice before she turned towards Asriel.

Sin’s head spun from exhaustion and pain, and he tries to look over his shoulder to where Death is walking towards Asriel. To where Nightmare pins his arms and legs down, spreading his thighs, “Whatz’ she doing?”

Sin’s words slur, and his body demands he sleep, yet he still cranes his neck to see what Death is doing. Nightmare side stepped so that he was shoulder to shoulder to Sloan, his cool fingers on Sin’s chin to redirect his gaze to Nightmare’s carefully blank face, “Don’t worry about it.” He said to Sin with a surprisingly gentle voice, Nightmare’s cool hand soft on Sin’s body as he pressed his skull into Sloan’s shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds.

Around them, the hounds are snarling and barking, and Sin can hear the pounding of his own soul over everything else, it’s louder even then Felix as he comes sliding into the room. His helmet is at hip as well, his dark eyes widening at whatever is happening behind Nightmare and Sloan, his voice in awe when he mutters, “What the fuck?”

Yet, Sin focuses on Sloan’s warm, soft arms around his body and Nightmare’s intense, bright gaze and concentrates on the fact that he’s alive and safe. That his friends came for him, that he was going to be okay, that Nightmare and Sloan care, and when he reaches a shaky hand to Nightmare’s face, the oily monster goes still. Nightmare allows the soft touch to his cheek, and marrow smears across Sin’s hand, and he embraces being held by the warmth from Sloan and the cool from Nightmare.

Just over Nightmare’s skull he can see the swing of the hammer going up then down, hears Frisk screaming, hears the wet, meaty thump of the head of the hammer hitting something, and it makes Sin laugh bitterly.

Felix’s eyes go wide, but narrow when they flick to Sin then back to Asriel in understanding, “Fucker.” He hisses before he looks back to Sloan, “We need to go.”

Death walks back around as Nightmare recalls his tentacles, coiling them tightly to his back. She’s still carrying the heavy hammer, dark blood splattered at the head of the sledge, her face blank save for the tinniest, cruel grin that Sin had ever seen. 

“Yes.” She agrees, “We did what we came here to do.”

Sin’s head spins as Sloan’s arm reaches under his knees and under his arms, and he goes limp in her arms like a rag doll. His head lolls onto her shoulder as Death’s sledge turns back into her sword and she slides it home into its sheath.

Nightmare reaches out for something else, but Sin’s vision is starting to go fuzzy as he’s lifted up and he can’t see what he’s grabbed. What he can see is Fuckface Frisk kneeling next to her bleeding husband, and the blood that is pooling from between his legs.

“I hope this was all worth it.” Death tells the Princess coldly as she picks up her helmet, clipping it to her waist, “If he ever ends up here again, I would remember this and take care of what does not belong to you.”

Then, the battle mages turn away from what’s left of the chain of command from Sins world, leading their unit from this hell. Sin’s vision swims, but he’s safe and he’s going home and just before he passes out, he gives Frisk the finger, laughing bitterly at her horrified face.

Sin finally gives in, going limp in Sloan’s arms, knowing he’s safe with her and she’ll get him home.

-

The journey out of the castle is far quicker then the one into it had been. Between the hounds and the battle mage’s, Nightmare was relieved that any guard they came across were quickly dispatched. 

As much fun terrorizing them may have been, Sin didn’t have the time. Not when he’s limp and still in Sloan’s arms, bleeding and broken, and only the angel knew what else was wrong with him. Still, he drains the horror around him, pulls it into his soul like he’s sucking back water through a straw.

It’s most prevalent around Lilith, that fury cold and heavy, like a layer of armor that Nightmare hadn’t felt in a very long time. Even Cross’s anger hadn’t held a candle to her wrath, and Nightmare fed off it desperately, wonders how the hell the mages contain this sort of power, this sort of fury to be halfway normal.

He worries, quietly, that Lilith won’t come back. He’d rather her be okay, she’s one of his and he’d rather his people be alright in the end.

He stumbles at that thought as they cross the drawbridge. He’s caught and steadied by Felix as he brings up the rear, “You good man?” he asks, brow raising in concern.

Nightmare blinks at him as Lilith pauses from the front, her eyes still that unnerving black with the creeping ivy as she checks that he’s okay. Giving Felix a nod, he’s quick to brush off his hand and Lilith starts her relentless march across the courtyard.

Felix nods, and Nightmare falls back in line behind Sloan, the hell hounds at the sides of their little pack, and Nightmare realizes that he called the mages _his._

What. The. Fuck?

He glances to Sin, still unconscious and safe in Sloan’s arms, he thinks of Red falling asleep on Lilith and Wine going to Felix’s bed, and wonders how the fuck had the mages squirmed so deeply in their lives that Nightmare laid claim?

The thought is brushed away at the sound of war trumpets, and it suddenly means very little when Lilith looked blankly at the castle over her shoulder, and with that creepy voice says, “I don’t think the Princess learned her lesson.”

She turns back for the portal, picking up their pace until they reach the shield. Nightmare follows along, feels the growing turmoil behind them, sees the horror on the faces of those who wait at the shield, but they don’t have time to sooth it away.

Not with an army assembling at their backs, looking to be the one to avenge their King. Not with Lilith barking orders in that cold, dead tone as she was lost to her LV that makes Nightmare worry, “Sloan, take him to the infirmary.”

Sloan nods, and is gone through the portal in a flash. Nightmare itches to follow, but fucking _trusts_ Sloan to care for his own while he stays here. “Wine, Coffee get to the compound. Felix get the hounds to the compound.”

No one argues, not with that tone and sharp orders, “Edge, Glass, go, Lola break the shield and let them come.”

Already they are moving to do as they’re told, and even Nightmare is impressed with how quickly, how well, she handled them and this is clearly not Lilith’s first time. Sloan hadn’t been kidding when she had said Lilith lead assaults before.

Gaster is nodding and in the mouth of the castle, an army is gathering as the Princess comes to the balcony that over sees the courtyard, “Yes, we should leave. I will close the portal.”

It’s a sensible, reasonable request that Nightmare agrees with. It makes _sense._ Which is why Lilith’s cold, flat voice giving the order makes no sense. “Leave the portal Gaster. Let them come.”

Everyone left pauses to stare at the battle mage; Lilith is starting with narrowed, furious eyes at Frisk, her mouth pulled into an angry sneer.

Felix looks to the assembling army with a frown, his brow furrowing before his gaze turns back to his sister, “Uh. Lil? We’re good, but even we can’t stop an army on our own. We need to close the portal.”

When Lilith smiles, even Nightmare shivers, “The next time Chara thinks it’ll be a wise idea to play in this world, I want the people here to fear what she’s offering. I’m going to punch a hole so deeply into their psyche that the next time Chara comes here, they’ll know not to play with monsters.” When she looks to Felix, he shivers and takes a step back, “And we have an ace.”

Felix blinks her at, doesn’t understand her meaning before it dawns on him. Nightmare watches as Felix’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open in shock and Nightmare can feel horror leak off him. Lilith coolly turns for the portal, “We will need a shield around the compound Lola.”

Lola’s eyes have darkened from their acid green to emeralds and she’s biting hard onto her lower lip in horror before she nods. She turns to flee, gripping onto Glass’s arm to pull him through the portal, running for the compound.

Blank faced, Lilith moves for the portal as Felix turns to Nightmare and Edge, his words desperate, “Run.”

Nightmare’s brow furrows, but it’s Edge’s rough voice that asks, “What?”

Felix is already pulling them towards the portal as the shield around them breaks, yelling for Gaster to hurry, “I said run. Go, get to the compound, now.” The hounds slip through the portal at his words.

Frowning, Nightmare follows Felix through the portal, sees that Lilith is standing coldly next to Wren, and the massive dragon is smiling with sharp, thick teeth. His wide mouth is twisted into a grin like a cat who caught the canary, and it dawns on Nightmare what Lilith’s ace is.

“Run!” Felix is snapping again, sprinting to the compound, grabbing at Gaster to drag him faster, the hounds circling close to Felix and Lilith doesn’t look at any of them.

Nightmare blinks, sees how quickly Felix and Ryder have pulled everyone, all his boys, back to the compound; yet they stay on the steps, sockets wide and curious, despite how nervous the mages are. Lola looks like she’s going to be sick, and Nightmare can _feed_ from her fear from where he is.

Nightmare realizes, they know what the hell’s about to happen.

Sharing a quick look with Edge, Nightmare’s voice takes on a little more urgency, “Run.”

Edge blinks at him before they’re both sprinting for the compound and the others.

Felix has shoved Gaster to the wall with Sans, has pulled Wine and Coffee near him, hanging onto both, looking frantic, as all four hounds drop to their bellies with a whine near him, “Are we all here?”

Ryder nods, a bead of sweat dripping down from his temple, eyes flashing orange, “Yes.”

Felix nods, his grip hard on Wine when Lilith’s cold voice addresses Wren, “I’m thinking one hundred percent.” She tells him mildly, making the dragon laugh. 

Felix flinches like Lilith slapped him, “Why!” he yells at her, eyes wide when she rolls her shoulders and pulls on her helmet. The gaster blaster shaped helmet smoked at the eyes with curling, black smoke, and Felix shakes his head, “She’s crazy. She’s fucking crazy.” He sounds stunned, “Lola put up the shield.”

“I’m getting ready for it.” Lola sounds irritable, afraid, and green magic is already swirling around her tiny frame as she prepares to put up the shield.

“Felix.” Nightmare sounds tense as they watch Lilith widen her stance and Wren take a breath into his belly, “What’s happening.”

“What’s happening, is that Lilith straight up has fucking ice in her veins.” He sounds afraid, taking a step back towards the brick of the compound, pulling Wine and Coffee behind him a little more, “Dragons can control how much fire they use. How hot, how far, the intensity.”

Wren’s belly and throat glow blue, and the dragon laughs, “And Lilith just told him to open it up. Let it all out, go full tilt. Open the gates of fucking hell.” Felix’s horrified face looks to Nightmare, “Mages have died from just the heat wave from pure dragon fire. Armor has melted. Blood bubbles. Brains boil. You have any idea the kind of crazy you need to be to stand with a dragon with that order? The kind of magic you need to have, to have armor that will withstand that kind of heat?”

They glance to Lilith, standing coolly before the portal, to Wren as fire begins to pool at his jaws, licking from between his teeth.

“Lola, put the shield up.” Felix says weakly, trembling hands reaching for and grabbing Wine and Coffee.

The shield mage’s hands suddenly go up, as if she’s forcing someone back, as if she were to push someone, and the shield that surrounds the compound this thick and heavy with her intent. Its impenetrable, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt for a moment that it will save them.

Lola trembles with the pressure to keep it up, her hands high and flat as sweat drips down from her own hair line, Glass hoovering helplessly at her side as Felix hisses.

“Red!” Felix yells his name in a horrid mix of fear and panic at seeing Red on the other side of the shield, well in the way of the heat wave that was about to hit him.

Nightmare freezes, seeing Red just on the other side of the shield, watches him jerk, head snapping to the shield with a curse.

“Shit.” He hisses, hands pressing to the green magic with no where to go. He couldn’t shortcut past the shield, no more than Sans could shortcut out; he had no where to run, no where to flee with no end point on the other side of the void. Edge is suddenly on the other side, fearful and frantic as he pressed his hands against the other side.

Red blinks at his brother’s frantic, panicked face, and is surprising calm. He grits his teeth, seems to know what this means before anyone else, “Edge.”

Edge turns to Lola and Felix, fury in his eye lights when he demands, “Drop the shield.”

Lola shakes her head no, Felix horrified as he stares, “We can’t.”

“Open it.” Edge sneers.

Red sighs, crimson eye lights glancing down. He’s not going to die afraid or running like a coward, “Kid.”

“Power likes this takes time to gather.” Felix sounds numb, staring horrified at Red, “If we drop the shield, we won’t get it back up in time.”

“Then we all die.” Nightmare mutters, wishing for nothing more then to be numb.

“No.” Edge sounds frantic, and it hurts Nightmare to hear him like that, so panicked and upset.

“Papyrus!” Red suddenly snaps, drawing Edge’s frantic, pulsing eye lights, and he takes a breath. What a fucking way to go, “It’s fine. You’ll be okay little brother. It’s…” Red shrugs, doesn’t have the words to tell his brother how proud he was of him, for the man he became.

Its okay, he thinks. With any luck being vaporized from a heat wave wouldn’t hurt.

“Oh, for fuck sakes!” Sans snaps, breaking the almost tender moment, pushing away from the wall to stand next to Edge, “You’re not going to fucking die.”

He looks to his mate, brow furrowed when he calls, _screams,_ her name. Lilith turns towards her mate’s cry of distress, sees Red on the wrong side of the shield, and tilts her head as if thinking, _you’re not supposed to be here._

Lilith turns, leaves the portal in the hands of a dragon, to cross their front yard to Red. Sans looks at him, rolling his eye lights, “If Lilith isn’t going to die, then she isn’t going to let you die.”

Sans shakes his head as Lilith comes to Red, “I swear, the lot of you do it for the drama.”

He glances up to his mate, tall and frightening, as she reaches out her hand to Red, palm up, “We have to hurry.” Her voice is still cold and lifeless, and even then, Red worries about her.

Glancing to Sans and his more then encouraging nod, he takes her hand, threading his fingers through her armored ones.

“I won’t let you get hurt.” She tells him as she turns back towards Wren, tugging Red towards the massive dragon and the blue fire gathering at his mouth. From where their hands are joined, Lilith’s crimson magic is spreading up over Red’s hand and up his arm.

Thick, heavy void black armor is forming over Red’s clothing, and he furrow’s his brow at the heavy metal forming over his body, “The fuck?”

Lilith stops near Wren, pulling Red hard to her body as armor wraps around his, full of her intent and need to protect. Wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, Lilith pulls Red tighter to her front as a helmet is summoned over his skull, “Hang onto me. I won’t let you go.”

A gravity disk spreads slowly out from under her feet in a wide circle, and as Red’s shaky arms go around her waist, Lilith looks to Wren, “Hold steady.”

He grips onto her tightly, glances over her shoulder to see his brother’s horrified expression, and Sans’s tight one. He doesn’t have time to register anything else as the first line of soldiers from Sin’s world come through the portal, freezing at the sight of a dragon with a mouth full of fire.

Lilith tilts her head, and Red understands what Felix means when he says she must have ice in her veins when she says, “Fire.” With no hesitation.

Blue flames erupt from Wren’s mouth, shooting forward with vicious intent and burning strength. The first line of monsters barely have the time to take a breath to scream before they’re vaporized and the flames disappear through the portal.

Wren lunges forward onto all fours, wings splayed wide to balance himself, and the heatwave is more like a shock wave. Even with the armor that Lilith wrapped him in, Red can feel the heat, can feel sweat drip down his skull. The power of it would have taken them off their feet if not for the gravity disk.

It reminds him of a space movie he saw once, he and Lilith hoovering over the gravity disk, the only thing keeping them in place; its as if someone opened the air lock in space and the vacuum was trying to suck them out, with only their mag boots keeping them in place.

Only, rather then a horrifying pull, it’s a massive push that’s only withstood by a stronger combatant.

The heatwave pushes everyone behind the shield back, sends a horrendous crack up the shield and heat seeps inside that makes sweat bead at everyone’s foreheads. Felix turns suddenly, pulling Wine and Coffee against his chest, hunching over them with a heavily armored body as Lola’s shield weakens under the strength of dragon fire.

The heat wave knocks Edge back a step, and he twists to shield Sans, isn’t sure if it would even help if Lola’s shield falls and folds his much taller body around him. Sans winces at the light of the fire, fists gripping onto Edge’s black chest plate as he ducked his head down against the metal of his armor and he clings on. Fear ripples through his soul but hangs to the fact that Lilith wouldn’t do this if she wasn’t certain that Lola could hold the shield.

Lola grunts in effort, eyes brightening back to acid green, bright and sickly as she pours more magic into the shield, sealing he crack even as her knees go weak and tremble. Blood drips down her nose from the strain, and her face pales at the effort that she doesn’t back down from; Glass at her back, hand lifted to shield his sockets from the light, his claws curled around the bottom of Lola’s chest plate as if he’s ready to short cut away if this goes wrong.

Nightmare doesn’t move, doesn’t shield his eyes from the bright, incredible light from the fire, feeding off the horror he can still feel from the portal. He wants to witness it all, all this destruction in its most pure form.

After all, he muses to himself with a grin, you kill evil things with fire.

It seams to last forever, under the bright, hot light of Wren’s fire, but the dragon eventually peters out, leaving Lola exhausted and everyone else sweating under his intense fire power. Lilith hit the ground on firm, solid feet, still clinging to Red as Wren sits back with a grin, looking proud of himself.

“Thank you, Wren.” Lilith told him coldly, pushing Red behind her as she pulled her rifle from her hip, pressing it hard to her shoulder, moving low and quick towards the portal.

Wren yawned again, and at their back the shield flickered and faded, Lola’s eyes rolling into the back of her head and she collapsed. Glass caught her before she crumpled, arms sliding under hers, lowering her cautiously to the ground.

Everyone is tense and still, shocked, even as Glass looks desperately around with Lola between his splayed legs, her head pressed against his shoulder. She’s unbearable still and limp, with her eyes closed and she pants softly against him.

All eyes are still on the portal, and Lilith slowly approaching it, and Glass clings to Lola’s vulnerable form tightly. His thick, heavy bones wrapped around her smaller body, his own sockets on the swirling, violent portal, and promises himself to keep Lola safe.

Lilith moves with confidence as Wren lays down and stretches, widening his wings, and props his chin on a clawed hand, “You’re welcome Lilith.” He laughs over them, glancing down to Red with an amused look.

Red, still shaken, feels his legs go weak as Lilith moved forward away from him, and Red suddenly misses the press of her body against his. He watches, a little stunned, as she pulled her weapon tight to her shoulder and all on her own, approach the portal.

Taking a breath, burying the growing panic that he almost fucking died, Red smothered any anxiety and moved to follow behind her. Low and just as confident with a snarling grimace, Red falls in step behind her, a bone summoned in hand, just in case.

Lilith pauses, tilts her head barely to look at him over her shoulder, “What the hell are you doing?”

Red stares back, mouth pulled into a flat line as behind them their Crew and Den uncurl from their terrified knot, “The fuck are you doing?” he shoots back, unafraid by the power and magic that radiates off from her.

That creepy, dark helmet stares back into his own, before Lilith’s slow, cold voice answers, “Making sure they’re all dead.”

Red nods, thumbing the point of his summoned bone, voice low, “Making sure you don’t get yourself fuck’n killed.”

Lilith stares at him a moment longer, and Red thinks she’ll send him back, and he’s _going_ to fight her on that, when she nods, “Four steps back, two left. You’re too close to provide proper cover.”

Red blinks at her, refuses to feel _anything_ that she’s allowed him to stay near, that she’s trusting him to have her back and does as he’s told.

He waits for Lilith to take four, slow, careful steps forward before he sides steps to cover her flank. They move like a two-man assault team, slow and careful, and when Lilith steps through the portal, Red turns her soul blue, better to be ready to pull her back through if needed.

He steps through behind her, grinning at the destruction Wren has caused; the stone of the courtyard was melted all the way from the portal to the drawbridge, scorched at the edges and thick dust floated through the air. Fire still burned at the edges and at the draw bridge, the walls of the castle are blackened by fire. High in the balcony Princess Frisk watched with wide, horrified eyes, and her hand hoovered over her open mouth.

Red snorted as he glanced around the courtyard even when Lilith said nothing, “You fucking nuked ‘em from orbit.”

Lilith held a moment longer staring at the Princess, surrounded by the chaos she had caused before she gave a nod, “Yes. I did.” She agreed coldly, turning away, knowing the job was done, and lead Red through the portal.

Casting one last glance to the Princess, Red grins and flips her the bird before he turns to follow Lilith home.

The portal is cold and feels like it leaves a gross film over their armor, and when Red safely makes it home, Lilith lifts her hand, two fingers pointed sky ward and she gives her wrist a little spin. 

Felix lets loose the breath he was holding, straightens up a little more and finally let’s go of Wine and Coffee, “Gaster, close the portal.” He says quietly, watching as Lilith and Red make their way along the scorched earth, and Felix sighs.

Yellow eyes glance to their tree, relieved that it’s been spared a fiery death, save only by the charms that Sloan had put on it when they planted it years ago. 

The portal ripples shut, and Felix takes another deep, calming breath, the demon inside settling at having everyone home. Now, it was time to bring Lilith back, “Ry,” he says lowly, “Get everyone else inside.”

Orange eyes glance to his brother before settling back on Lilith and her void black armor, “Yeah, you guys gonna need to huddle up?”

Felix nods slowly, not taking his eyes from Lilith, “Yeah, it’ll be good for Lili especially.”

Sans and Edge share a look, and even Sans shrugs slightly, not understanding.

Ryder nods, “Alright. I’ll get it done.” Felix nods his thanks as Ryder turns, “Alright boys, we need to go inside. Let’s go.”

Gore looks up with a frown, “What about Lilith?” uncertainty rolling through him, he eye lights on Lilith, “She doesn’t seem okay.”

“She’s not.” Ryder agrees, “But Felix will take care of her.” They look like they want to argue when Nightmare spins away, intending on finding Sin, his voice rough.

“Do as your told. Go inside and listen to Ryder.” He snaps, too tired and stressed to deal with the petty bickering as he walks past.

Let the mages deal with their own, _~~his own~~_ ~~,~~ he needed to look in on Sin.

Gore and Crow frown at each other, watch as Lilith thanks the dragon again, the massive beast looking pleased before he opens his great wings to fly away. Heaving a sigh, Gore looks disappointed, “Okay.” As he turns with Crow to follow Nightmare inside.

Ryder nods, “Gaster, if you please.”

Hesitating, Gaster nods and moves to follow behind, uncertain to leave his eldest behind as Ryder turns to Sans, “Lets go Sans.”

Sans doesn’t turn, plants his feet and shakes his head no, “I’m staying with Lilith.”

Ryder opens his mouth to argue as blue magic swirls in Sans’s socket before Felix cuts off their growing fight, “It’s fine Ry. Sans will probably help.”

Pausing, Ryder looks hesitant before he nods, “Alright.” He lingers again, uncertain when he glances to Edge, takes in his firm stance and dead ahead stare and sighs, “Listen to Felix.” It sounds like a warning as much as advice.

Both Edge and Sans nod, and Ryder turns for the compound, yelling to Glass as he steps inside, “Glass, he looks up at his name, “Stay still until she tells you, you can go.”

Confused orange eye lights blink back at him, and Glass’s arms tighten around Lola’s limp form as if too protect her, his face becoming cold as Lilith and Red close in on their little knot.

Ryder is gone by the time the magic had dropped way from Red, disappearing in a cloud of dusty magic and Edge grabs his shoulder tightly. Red grins blandly at his brother, and Edge desperate to touch him, to reassure himself that he was fine and okay. Alive, again, because of the mage.

Sans goes to move after Lilith, but Felix grabs his shoulder pulling him almost roughly back as Lilith crosses to Lola, still with the cold, frozen aura that has everyone shifting nervously. “Just wait.” Felix muttered lowly, keeping Wine and Coffee within his sight, “Let her chill first.”

“She’s not?” he hissed back, watching as Lilith took a knee before Glass, reaching into her inventory for smelling salts, Glass completely still and afraid to move.

Felix shakes his head no, “You fucking think she is?” 

“Oh, she’s not fucking alright.” Red added merrily from between Sans and Edge, allowing his brother to man handle him a little, earning a frown from Sans, “You don’t order that and be okay afterwards.”

Lola jerks awake in Glass’s arms, flailing weakly before she caught his big hands, nearly cutting herself on his claws. Lilith’s still armored hand fell to her sister shoulder as the other pulls a restoration potion from her inventory, “I know your tired Lola.” Hearing her name draws Lola’s name eyes to her sisters’ monstrous helmet and she stills in Glass’s arms, eyes wide, “But Sin needs healing.”

Panting, Lola glances down to the cold restoration potion before she gives herself a shake and wipes the blood from her nose. It smears across her face, and is ignored as she reaches for the potion, drinking in deep, greedy gulps.

Power and magic fill Lola, and she shivers as it fills her, cringing at magic that doesn’t belong to her, Glass is still around her, almost afraid to move, “You okay?” Lola asks softly, and Lilith shakes her head no.

Pushing herself to her feet, Lilith offers a hand to Lola, pulling her to her feet as Lola tucks the empty bottle into her own inventory. Best not to waste mason jars, just in case. Glass helps Lola find her feet before he stands as well, easily towering over Lola’s four-foot, five-inch height with his full six feet, looking helpless at her side.

Lola glances past her sister, and nods, “Okay. I’ll see to Sin.” Lilith nods slowly, still not speaking unless she needs to, fighting to contain her LV, “Your squads still here.” Lilith’s helmeted head tilts towards them as Lola continues, “Do me a favor, let them help you. Don’t make me do it.”

Lilith snorts, the most human thing she’s done since they first stepped through the portal and it makes a small smile crawl up Lola’s face, “No promises.” Lilith tells her quietly, making Lola grin a little wider, “Take care of my sister Glass.” Its another warning, a threat, if Lilith wanted it to be, but Glass nods yes, he will.

Lilith watches them go, makes sure they make it to the compound before she moves slowly to the front steps. It’s still with that predatory grace, like a hunting lioness, before she sinks slowly down onto the front step, and just stops moving.

They all blink at her, and Sans is the first one who moves. Careful, easy steps towards his mate and he refuses to be afraid despite how his magic prickles under his bones, “Babe?” she doesn’t say anything and he can see her magic spark at her hands as she fights to get the chains back on her LV, “You okay?”

She shakes her head no again, and Sans nods, uncertain and worried, taking another step towards her, “Want to take your armor off? You’ll feel better I bet.”

That gets a reaction, and Lilith looks up to Sans, her fingers knotting, “I don’t want you to be afraid.” Her cold, rough voice tells him, and Sans frowns as he takes another step.

“Ah Lilith. I’m not afraid of you.” He tells her with such confidence, that Lilith looks up at him as he takes a seat next to her on the stone steps. Slowly, Felix moves, as to not startle her, Coffee and Wine at his back, Red and Edge just behind them, “There’s a lot of things I think about you, but never afraid.” He’s quick to reassure.

He hears Lilith take a breath form under her heavy helmet, and as Felix sits on her other side, her void black armor shimmers crimson before it turns to smoke and dust, fading from her body and back to jeans and a black tank.

Her eyes are still wall to wall black, but Sans grins at her wide and happy, delighted to see her, so happy that she’s come home to him. The creeping ivy is unnerving, as is her too blank stare, but Sans refuses to be afraid and leans into her side.

He lets his sockets drift shut, because he _trusts_ her, reaching for her hand, threading their fingers together. She’s warm, magic flushing through her and Sans squeezes her hand as Edge sits on Sans’s other side, Red leaning against Sans’s legs.

Coffee and Wine mimic their position, Coffee leaning against Felix’s legs while Wine leans into his side.

Snuggling into his mate, Sans forces himself to relax, “You’re okay.” He tells her, sockets still closed, “We got you.”

Lilith blinks at that soft, loving voice, and the ivy begins to fade as she locks up her struggling vice, Sans continuing with a grin, “I lava you evil mage.”

Her eyes clear slowly despite the frowns from the others, and Lilith blinks at Sans, still feeling cold inside and unsteady when she roughly tells him, “I lava you too.”

His sockets open a crack with a grin, and Lilith is able to lock up the rest of her LV, shivering as she acclimatizes to the new EXP in her soul. She’s like a puppet whose strings have been cut, and she caves in on herself, suddenly clinging to Sans, “I’m cold.” She tells him weakly as her head spins.

It’s hot outside, another few weeks and the temperature would take a turn to blistering, but Sans figures this has nothing to do with the temperature. This is something soul deep as she copes with what she just did. Sans nods, and no one says a thing as they move into a tighter ball around Lilith.

She shivers between Felix and Sans as her brother slips an arm over her shoulders and Sans presses in tight to her side. Edge hesitates, glances uncertainty to his brother before he leans in as well, stretching over Sans to touch Lilith’s shoulder with the side of a sharp claw. Red shifts with a groan, sounding more disgruntled then he actually looked to lean against her long legs.

Wine and Coffee curl in as well, leaning more into Felix then Lilith, but the battle mages sigh contently non the less.

They have her as much as she has them, and so long as they have each other, they’ll all be okay.


	21. In the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the few hours after the mage's come home, things start to finally settle down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening Lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all doing well and staying safe. I know this chapter is coming to you hella late, but it's been that kind of week. Like, the kind of week where everything that could have gone wrong, did, and I ended up working on my day off. So, you know. 
> 
> Soooo, this chapter is super late. But hey, on the bright side, I'm almost at 3000 hits! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! It means the world to me that you all have been reading and continue to read :) 
> 
> This chapter is hella long, but from a narrative point of view, it made more sense to keep this chapter all together and not slip it up. Chapter 22 has just been finished, and I may have thought it was going to be shorter, it's solidly at 10 k words, haha. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy it, and as always, be aware of the warnings. 
> 
> WARNING: discussion of Sin's torture and abuse. Description of a break down/panic attack. Description of the murder of children (very mild) I think I've added everything in here, but let me know if I've missed something. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Standing outside the bathroom door, Sans presses his skull against the wood, and he can see the run of the grain from where he rests his forehead. Worry eats at his soul as he listens to the sound of running water from the other side of the door and doesn’t know how Lilith is _actually_ doing. It’s a novel, shitty concept. Usually they’re so well connected, on the same wavelength, that Sans can look at her and know what her emotional state is.

Yet, he hadn’t ever seen her just after a deep LV induced psychosis and has no idea what the rules for engagement are here. Has no idea how quickly or slowly his mate is going to bounce back after this, or even what the fuck she needs from him. 

They had sat with her, the brothers from Underfell and Swapfell with Felix, until Lilith started to shake. Once the trembling started, she shook their hands off, ignored their voices and Sans’s pleas to stay a little while longer, determinedly heading for a shower.

Felix had looked as worried as Sans felt, Red and Edge looking uncertain, when Lilith stumbled into the building, disappearing up the stairs. She wasn’t alright, no matter what she said to them, something was eating at her and it was Sans’s job to make sure she didn’t get lost in whatever was hurting her.

He just didn’t know _how_.

The sound of water turned off, and with a sigh, Sans straighten up so that when she opened the door, he wouldn’t fall face first into the bathroom. He’s sure that regardless of what was happening in her head, if he face planted into the bathroom Lilith would bury all her shit to make sure he was okay. No need to add to her plate of emotional backlash, and he didn’t want her to dig deeper into what ever this was.

Sighing a little, Sans presses a grin across his mouth, and waits for Lilith to come out of the bathroom. Waits for her to be ready to deal with this and see everyone. He had no idea what the fuck Ryder had meant by ‘huddling up’ but evidentially it meant a mage puppy pile.

Downstairs, the Crew were having a grand time collecting everyone’s mattresses, blankets, and pillows to create a nest in one of the living rooms. Its not the one they like to play video games or watch movies in, but the well protected room that the mage’s like to lock them selves in when the Fog comes crawling through their quiet little town.

Gore seemed to be enjoying the idea of a sleep over, and Ryder had left he and his bro in charge of getting snacks for everyone. Lola, shaky and low on magic with Glass at her side, had come downstairs after healing Sin, and had been put in charge of over seeing the snack gathering.

That left Sans to look after his mate, even when he had no idea what the fuck he should do, had even politely declined Edge’s offer to help. Sure, he and Lilith _liked_ Edge and Red, but they weren’t dating, _~~not yet,~~_ and it should be Sans to check in on her.

So, he waited.

And waited.

And waited a little more.

And frowned when the hair dryer didn’t click on, and he didn’t hear any sounds coming from the bathroom, nothing from Lilith. Worry began to creep into his soul, and Sans squirmed with uncertainty, rocking back onto his heels, not really sure what to do.

He pushed himself forward, his feet planted firmly back onto the ground and he rallied is courage, as little of it as he had. Bravery wasn’t exactly his strong suit, he was a patient kind of guy who sought justice, but for Lilith, Sans would dig deep.

Taking a breath, Sans knocks on the bathroom door, waiting for Lilith to answer; it’s the polite thing to do and tries to not let the frustration swell when she doesn’t say anything. He knocks again, with a little more urgency, only to receive nothing in response and Sans huffs a sigh.

Quietly he curses Chara for this. This wasn’t Sin’s fault, and he doesn’t blame him in any way shape or form, but this was Chara’s doing. This was the fall out because of _her._

It makes Sans worry about what else she has in mind, what else she will try. It makes fear bubble in his soul and he grits his teeth.

Later, they’ll deal with Chara later. Once they get everyone back onto even keel, especially Sin, and he was going to need some intensive therapy if anyone thought to ask Sans’s opinion, they’d figure out Chara.

Right now though, his girl needed him.

Reaching for the doorknob, Sans knocks again, but doesn’t wait for an answer and lets himself inside the bathroom slowly, peeking in with a soft voice, “Lilith?” he calls carefully, as he steps inside.

He frowns when he finds his mate staring sullenly at her damp hairbrush with blank eyes and her mouth pulled into a flat line as she sits on the side of the tub. She’s dressed in a pair of black bootie shorts and one of his white t-shirts. The shirt is tight around her torso and almost too small for her, but Sans knows she grabbed it because it probably smells like him, rather then the style. Her hair is still damp from her shower, loose around her shoulders, and Sans frowns at her dower expression.

“Lilith?” he tries again, closing the door behind him, worry starting to creep deeper into his soul, “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t look up at him, but nods, so at least she’s listening to him, but he doesn’t believe her that she’s okay. Frowning, he takes careful steps towards her, presses in between her knees so he can wrap his arms around her shoulders and press inward for a hug.

Lilith drops the brush behind him as she wraps her arms around him just a tightly, sliding her arms under his as she wrapped them around his ribs, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Her hands tremble as her fingers curl into the soft fabric of his shirt, and she clung to him.

Sans’s hand came up to pet the back of her head, his fingers running through her damp, dark hair, and he pressed his teeth into a gentle kiss at her temple, “What’s wrong Lili?” he asked softly, and she shrugged at his question as a shiver ran down her spine.

Sans held her tighter, and tried again, “You know,” he said slowly, “You wouldn’t let me wallow in my own self pity.” He told her, and he feels bad when he hears her breathing hitch sadly, “Not fair that you think I’m going to leave you on your own.”

“That’s cheating.” Lilith mutters with a snort, her voice is small, and it makes Sans frown as she noses at his collar bone, her hands still clinging to him.

Sans hums, and curls his arms a little tighter around her, and he presses another kiss to her temple, “Mmmm maybe.” He agrees placidly, “But I’m not above cheating evil mage.”

Lilith snorts, and cuddles in a little more, giving herself a moment to just hold onto her mate, and be held, before she starts speaking. Her voice muffled into his shirt, “It’s hard sometimes.” She admits quietly, “After succumbing to your LV to bounce back.” Sans nodded, letting her talk, hoping that he was encouraging, “It can be hard to regulate your emotions afterwards.”

Sans nods, he doesn’t get it, not really, but knows it’s hurting Lilith, so he’s going to try. He doesn’t have LV like she does, not nearly as high or as viciously gained, even if he was no slouch when it came to it.

“Sans?” her voice cracks, and it hurts him to hear his mate’s voice like that, “I think I’m a bad person.” She whispers to him, sounding hurt and upset, and it makes Sans’s soul squeeze.

Surprise flicks through him, and he has to pull away so he can see Lilith’s face. His sockets are wide and his frown deepening as he grips onto Lilith’s shoulder, hating the misery in her face and the way her shoulders drop. He hates the uncertainty and the way her eyes glance away from his, avoiding, like she’s afraid that Sans would agree. 

Inwardly, he snorts. He isn’t blind to what Lilith is, knows what she did in the war, what a battle mage’s purpose was, and after all, who else could have brough Sin home like they had. Who else would have not flinched at ordering a dragon to vaporize an incoming army, for the sake of one of their own?

“You’re not.” He’s quick to reassure, gripping her shoulders tightly and Lilith hunches inwards a little more, her eyes a little sadder.

“I am.” She told him, and Sans frowned, knowing this is one of those rare occasions that he needed to be serious. That Lilith needed him, needed his reassurance that she wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought she was.

“And why the hell do you think that?” he asked with all seriousness, “You helped bring Sin home. You helped save him, you made sure that Sloan, Nightmare and Felix were safe, you did the hard thing and made sure we all stayed safe. You did the shit job, so we can live peacefully here. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Lilith still won’t look at him, eyes still down and sad looking, the emotional backlash making her soul hurt, “But I liked it Sans.” She told him softly, admitting the cruel truth that she was afraid of. Afraid of Sans knowing, and he stills before her, “I liked it when I killed those guards in the bath house. When I ordered Wren to light them all up. I _liked it._ ” She still won’t look at him, curling a little more into herself, “I liked it, like I liked the violence in the war.” Her voice is small and afraid, like she’s waiting for Sans to pass judgment on her.

Like she _knows_ that Sans is going to up and leave, and she’s just waiting for him to realize it.

Sans sighs softly, and his grips tightens on her shoulders, “Yeah, and you know what the guard in Sin’s world and the Covens you fought have in common?”

She shakes her head no, face crumpled in pain as Sans continues, “They tried to kill you. They tried to kill us, and they thought they had a superiority that allowed them to hurt others, and that was okay. They weren’t going to stop Lilith, nothing short of what you did would have stopped them.”

She squirmed at his words, “Yeah, but. I crushed Asriel’s pelvis, and I fucking enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, and did you see Sin’s face? You stopped him from doing worse, and Lilith, trust me, he would have kept going. He would have killed Sin, made it a long, slow slog, he would have drawn it out. You took out a violent threat, and you enjoyed it? _So what_.” That makes Lilith look up at him finally, eyes wide and fearful, wet with unshed tears, “Do you think that it makes you a bad person because you did bad things to worse people?”

She looks down and mutters, “Yes.”

“No.” Sans told her firmly, “It doesn’t. You will always be better then people like that, even if you had fun doing what you did. You taught me that the only way evil can persist is if good people stand aside and do nothing. You did something, you stopped a lot of bad people from doing terrible things babe. And so what if you cope by having a little fun doing it. It’s what you do, you’re a sin eater.”

Lilith still won’t say anything, and her hands shake. Sans isn’t sure if its from the stress of the emotional back lash or feeling like _she’s_ the monster here, “Wanna know what makes you better Lilith?” she says nothing, but Sans doesn’t really give her the chance, “You never hurt anyone innocent. Not once. Never. You stand up for the lost and lonely, you save people, all the time Lilith.” Sans pauses and squeezes her shoulders, “You saved me. You saved the Crew when no one else would have. You saved Red, you shared soul magic with him the first day you met him. How could you be a bad guy, and do that?”

“Yeah, but…” she squirms with disbelief, glancing up at him from under her lashes, “Anyone could do that.”

Sans snorts, “Lilith.” He sighs, “No one in their right fucking mind shares soul magic with a stranger. No one. But you did, because it was the right thing to do.” He gives a little shrug, and a half smile, “Because you’re a good person. You believe in peace, and justice, and equality, but you’ll beat the shit out anyone who tries to take all that away from anyone else. You’re fearless, and good.”

If she gives a little sniff, Sans doesn’t say anything, just gives her a smug little grin and believes in her so much. She finally looks up to him, her dark eyes that are lacking magic stare into his soft white eye lights, and she gives him a crooked smile, “You really think I’m a good person?”

Sans grinned at her, because, yeah, he did believe she was a good person, “Yep.” And it’s really hard to pop the ‘P’ of a word as a skeletal monster, but Sans had been practising for just such an occasion.

Lilith snorted, and he reached for her face, cupping her cheeks softly, brushing his thumbs along her jaw. She tilted her head, pressing into his hands, and slowly the tension from Lilith’s shoulders loosened, her voice soft when she looked into his eye lights, “Is that my judgement then?”

Sans stiffens suddenly at her question, his spine straightening up and his shoulders go stiff as something like fear passes over his soul at her unintentional request to be judged. It had been years since he fully heard the voice of the Judge in his soul, years since he murdered the last fallen child and even the Judge had shivered in disgust at what it had been ordered to do.

It had been years since he felt anything from that power besides brief brushes of it against his soul, and only in the most dire of situations. The last time that Sans can remember that it even made it’s presents known was when Felix’s ex had tried to murder him. 

Sans had become the broken Judge, had all the power, but it was unreliable. His hold over it shaky at the best of times unless he truly needed it, and he had been unable to pass true judgements since. The Judge had forsaken their people at Asgore’s cruel order to murder any child that fell, the justice within that essence unable to cope with the law.

Sans had never thought it important to tell Lilith about the Judge, it had been quiet for so long that it never crossed his mind to fill her in on what it actually was. That Sans didn’t just have that name, but it was a long dead power.

A power, that Red likely also had. A sudden, terrifying thought. A thought that some of the others in the Crew might have it as well.

A power, that for the first time in _years_ , moved with its full force within Sans’s soul, and he feels a spark of fear as it looks through his eyes too Lilith. His beloved, wonderful, fierce, _LV 19_ battle mage mate, and it judges.

Sans freezes, feels that ancient power stir in his soul, coming alive for the first time in years at Lilith’s question as she looked up at him from under her lashes, “Am I a good person?”

He feels that power swell, sees Lilith freeze as his eye lights swirl with the yellow magic of justice and a voice whispers **_yes_** that seems to come from his soul.

It’s there and gone between one breath and the next, leaving Sans weak and shaky, stunned to hear the Judge after so long of it’s silence and he finds he doesn’t miss it. He never liked it, not once. Not from the moment that the Judge’s essence emergence in his soul when he was barely out of stripes, and he was brought into Asgore’s inner court. He despised it for ruining his life, took what normalcy he had away, took away his future in science and ultimately destroyed him.

Sans had a complicated relationship with the Judge, and he’s certain it didn’t like him anymore then he liked it. Yet, they both agreed that Asgore was full of bull shit, and Sans didn’t miss the voice in his head telling him what they were doing was wrong when it left after the death of the last child.

Lilith stills, her hands on his face and any of the hurt in her eyes fade slowly to fear, “Sans?”

He blinks at her, just as stunned, as horrified as she sounds, and he chokes out the words, “I judged you.”

Lilith blinked at him, exhausted and upset, and her brow furrowed, “What?”

Trembling, he shakes his head and presses forward into another hug, clinging onto her, arms going tightly around her ribs, “The Judge. It woke up. It-” he pauses, pressing his mouth to her throat in a brief kiss, knowing that she’s got a long way to okay, and he was in no better shape, “The Judge has said you’re not a bad person.”

He gives her a little, watery laugh, “And the Judge isn’t ever wrong.”

Lilith holds him, her arms tightening around his ribs and her fingers cling to his shirt as he starts to tremble. He needs to get it together, Lilith doesn’t need to deal with his bull shit right now, “I don’t know what that means.”

He lets loose a watery sigh, “I’m not just the Judge in name.” he tells her slowly, “It’s a power that comes out in the souls of monsters. There used to be a few in every generation, but with the way our numbers are depleting there’s fewer now. As far as I know, I’m the only one.”

Sans pauses, reminds himself that this is about Lilith, they’ll deal with his shit later. Maybe when she’s feeling better, he’ll set up a few extra appointments with Dr. Tracy, “But it’s an ancient power. Closer to Sloan’s soul trait, I can see their sins. I can see the memories of those I’ve been asked to Judge, usually by the King. It’s a power, almost like a separate entity, a consciousness that can see past everyone’s bullshit and into their souls.”

Her arms tighten around him, and Lilith squeezes him. He continues in a small, terrified voice, “The Judge only answered to the Royal family, the King and Queen of monsters, with the expectation that they have the people’s best interest in mind, but that wasn’t always the case. There are legends of Judges killing their Kings when they turn against their people, when they take that step too far. That’s not what happened with me. Asgore didn’t order the Judge to kill the people, he ordered the Judge to kill humans that fell. He didn’t care that it was usually children that fell and made it illegal to be human in the underground. Eventually, that broke the Judge. It was _wrong_.”

Lilith didn’t say anything, just held Sans as tight as she could without hurting him, “So. Yeah, the. Uh. The Judge doesn’t think you’re a bad person. So. There’s that.”

Drawing away, Sans is relieved to see that the tears have mostly dried from her face, leaving behind only exhaustion and a strained look, “Do we need to worry about that? If you heard it again? Will Asgore comes knocking?”

Sans shrugs, “I think Asgore’s terrified of you and doesn’t have the balls.”

That makes Lilith give a watery chuckle, and Sans is relieved to hear her sounding a little more like herself, “Thanks Sans.” She gives him an almost grin, but it falls too quickly, “I guess I can’t be that bad if a higher power says I’m not.”

They fall silent again, and Lilith looks back down at her feet, a tired frown pulling at her features before she leaned forward to hold onto Sans again, taking the new information from him in stride, “Can we just sit here for a few minutes?”

Holding his mate, Sans nods, “Yeah, we sure can. Long as you want.”

Lilith nods, and clings to Sans. He’s happy to let her hang onto him, he can be here rock for once, be her protector.

He can be what she needs to let her fall apart.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Sans does just that, and holds her tightly.

-

Sans isn’t sure how long they were in the bathroom, long enough that the others should have started to worry, but when he leads Lilith quietly into the living room where they’re camping out for the night, Felix doesn’t say a thing. Gold eyes are critical when they look over his sister, appraising in an eery way that Sans hasn’t seen from him before, looking for any small sign that his sister wasn’t alright, or at least on the right track to being better.

Whatever Felix sees, he’s pleased by it and lets Sans come into the living room without harassing his sister.

The room has been set up with mattresses, blankets and pillow. Bowls of snacks dot the room and Ryder had pulled the couches out to make more room for sleeping space. It looks like the worlds best fort, and already most of the crew is in the room, claiming their spaces as they get ready to settle in for the night. Sans nods, feels himself relax when he sees them all here, knowing that Lilith and Felix’s instincts will be soothed to have everyone near by.

It’s easier to protect your people when they’re with you.

Felix has set up with Wine and Coffee by the door, he’s the battle mage that came away from the mission a little more unscathed and thus the first line of defense. Curled into balls of dense fur, the four hell hounds snore softly around them, looking more like big dogs then other worldly creatures, and it makes Sans grin to see them.

Lola is already sound asleep at the other end of the room, curled up under a blanket and snoring softly. Her head nestled into a pillow that’s on Glass’s lap, and how she got there Sans isn’t sure, but is no less amused by Glass’s stiff posture and concerned look.

By the looks of it, he isn’t sure how that happened either, and Sans wouldn’t be surprised if she walked in after helping Gore and Sugar gather snacks, plunked herself down next to Glass and just fell over to sleep.

Mage’s were unsubtle like that.

Around her were Gore, Crow and Sugar, clustered in close to protect, just in case, and when they came into the living room, Gore gave them a bright grin. It’s not the unhinged one they usually saw from him, but something kinder, real, almost like what he would have looked like before his world sunk its claws into him.

He carefully untangles himself from Crow, standing slowly to make his way over to he and Lilith, carefully keeping his balance as he walked over the mattresses, “Lilith!” his voice is bright and happy as he wraps his arms around her waist to hug her as best he could, “You’re not crazy anymore!” 

Lilith went stiff when his thin arms went around her, but she relaxes slowly, her own arms going around him as well, “I’m not.” She tells him, softly amused but still the cold persists.

Gore looks up from her body, grin bright when she gently pats his skull, being careful of the hole, “I’m glad you’re not possessed anymore.” He tells her brightly, “We would have missed you.”

That makes something brighten in Sans’s soul and Lilith’s face softens a little when she says, “Me too. Thanks Gore.”

He gives her one last bright smile before he totters back to Crow, settling back down and snuggling into his side.

Sans releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and knows that it was going to be okay. They weren’t going to let Lilith stay trapped in her mind anymore then he was, and it would be fine.

Glancing around, Sans’s eye lights fall to Edge and Red. They’re side by side, and Edge’s fingers have hooked under Red’s collar, both still looking stressed. Sans doesn’t blame them; Edge almost lost his brother and Red could have easily been vaporized by the shockwave from Wren. If they need to touch a little more then usual, Sans wasn’t going to question it.

Yet, when his gaze fell on them, while looking for the best spot to camp out for the night, Edge’s fingers unhook from Red’s collar and Red shifts over to make space for Lilith, and Sans grins. Leading her over to them is easy, she’s following along quietly with exhaustion radiating off her heavily, and it takes no effort to get Lilith to settle between Red and Edge.

She nearly slumps forward, but she’s caught by all three of them and they steady her.

“Sorry.” Her voice is slurry now from a terrible cocktail of fatigue and emotional backlash, “Just really tired.”

Red shrugs before either Sans or Edge can say anything, “Don’ worry about it angle dust. Just get some sleep.”

Sans raises a brow at Red, only to receive a shark tooth grin back as they steady Lilith between them. Edge sighs, eye lights rolling upwards as if he were asking for guidance from a higher power, and Sans finds he doesn’t mind the nick name coming from Red.

The thought startles him a little, how easily he allowed Red to worm his way in like this, and vice versa. When Red speaks again, his rough voice is honied and softer, “Don’t worry about it centre fold, I’ve got a nick name for you too.”

Sans grin is slow to grow, and from Red, that’s almost sweet even if it makes Edge look like he’s questioning all his life choices, when Lilith _giggles_. Her hand clamps over her mouth, eyes clenched shut as if she were trying not to snicker harder.

It makes Sans and Red both pause in their bullshit, giving her concerned looks and even Edge looks worried at Lilith’s giggle. Red’s voice is strained when he calls out to Felix, “Hey, ‘Lix. Did we break your sister?” 

Turning to them, Felix cocks his head but doesn’t bother coming over as he looks at Lilith, “Hey Lil?” she opens her eyes but her hand is still over her mouth as if she were trying to contain her giggles, “How high are you?” there’s a knowing smile curling at his mouth as Lilith looks like she’s straining to contain herself.

She bursts out with more giggles before she gets out, “This high!” her hand flat by the top of her head to indicate how high she was before she dissolved into more laughter.

Sans, Red and Edge all froze, sockets wide with worry before Felix chuckles, “She’s alright guys.”

“How is she alright?” Sans almost sounds panicked at seeing his mate giggle like a high schooler, soul constricting with concern.

Felix shakes his head, “It’s the LV. It makes it hard to regulate our emotions after you come out of it, she’ll be all over the place for a while until she evens out. Lili should be back to normal by tomorrow morning. Just keep her in the positive end of the emotional pool, and that’ll help.”

Felix gives them a toothy grin, “And right now that’s easy, watch. Hey Lilith?” she looks up to her brother, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, “How many healers does it take to change a lightbulb?” he doesn’t give her the chance to answer, “Two, one to do the work and one to yell that she’s in the light.”

More laughter erupted from her in high giggles, and Felix grins as they all stare at him, “Lilith, why did the battle mage run from zombies?” Lilith shakes her head no, and Felix looks delighted, “Because she wanted to see his _dead_ -ication.”

That makes her laugh harder at his lame jokes, falling into high pitched giggles. Felix shrugs, “See? You guys have all the bad jokes, so just keep her laughing and she’ll be alright.” 

Both Sans and Red blink at him before matching shark like grins crawls up their faces and their eye lights sparkle with amusement. Felix grins, knows his sister is in perfect hands, and even if Edge looks like he’s starting to question his sanity, he keeps his hands on Lilith to keep her upright when Red and Sans tell her one terrible joke after another.

It warms something in Felix, to see his sister loved and cared for, and when he settles in back next to Wine and Coffee, an arm slipping around the ladder’s shoulders, he’s able to relax. They’re going to be okay, he thinks. Mable sits up to yawn and stretch out, her massive head nudging into Wine’s leg for scritches. She groans as her massive tail starts thumping slowly when his sharp fingers scratch gently between her ears.

Giving a soft look to Coffee, Felix is certain they’ll all be okay.

-

Floating in a bubble of warm unconsciousness, Sin isn’t ready to face the world, not yet, not after what the fuck just happened to him. He’d rather stay in in his soothing ball of darkness for a bit longer, he’s safe here and he doesn’t have to _deal_ with what the fuck happened to him. He doesn’t have to see the pitying looks of the others when he’s not ready to deal with all that.

Yet, someone’s holding his hand, running a soft thumb along his pinky metatarsal. The hand that has his is painfully gentle and warm, smaller then his own and he’s helpless to curl his fingers around the hand that holds his.

The soft movement at his metatarsal stills, and he mourns the lost of its soft movement until he hears a soft voice call his name, “Sin?”

His soul skips a beat when he hears Sloan’s soft voice say his name, reminding him that they got him the fuck out of there. That Sloan and Nightmare came for him like they were on a mission to do as much damage as possible to his world, brought Lilith and Felix packing heat. If he thinks about it, he’s fairly sure that Lilith crushed Asriel’s balls with a sledgehammer of her own design.

“Sin?” Sloan’s voice is like a siren’s call to wake up, and he fights against his body’s need to sleep a little harder, “Sweetie, can you hear me?”

Fuck he missed her, missed hearing her call him sweetie.

He wonders how she can stand to touch him, after everything that was done to his body. He was _~~filthy,~~_ _~~unworthy,~~_ ~~_used, not worth it, defiled, dirty,_~~ in desperate need of a shower. Still, Sloan clings to his hand, and he feels her soft touch at his forehead as she pet his skull. He feels her presents next to him, soft and warm, and now that he’s felt it, he can feel the depth of her magic. Her power, and he was _~~unworthy~~_ grateful that she used that obscene amount of power to come for him.

He braces for pity, decided that he’ll hate himself rather then her when he sees it, and forces his sockets to open, and his eye lights come back fuzzy and diluted. He’s ready for Sloan’s look of sympathy, sorrow, to be directed at him, but he’s not ready for her sheer delight as his vison clears.

When she sees that he’s awake, Sloan’s worry turns into a bright, beaming smile and his soul pulses a beat faster to see her, to hear her soft voice, “You’re awake.” She says softly, her musical tone is back and it sooths his soul.

He blinks a few times to clear his vison a little more, and he offers her the smallest grin back, he’s too tired to give her a full one, a beaming one, but he can give her this at least, “Did you melt the Queen?” his voice is raspy and weak, and Sloan’s smile widens when she hears his voice.

“And the King.” She confirms with a nod, sounding pleased as hell at a job well done, lifting his hand to press a small kiss to his knuckles, her lips soft against the bone and it warms him. The press of her lips against his bones send a tingle through his arm, and his smile widens a little more as Sloan presses the palm of his hand to her smooth cheek, “And I’m fairly certain Lilith either brutally murdered any one who touched you herself, or had them vaporized.” She tells him plainly, and there’s a deep sigh from across the room.

Sin tilts his head towards the sound, sees Nightmare starting at the wall from where he sits, lounges in one of the infirmary chairs, not looking at him. It makes something crush in Sin’s chest, something dark as he mourns what could have been with Nightmare but doesn’t blame him.

Sin wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t…

Nightmare turns to look at him with an appraising look, looks at him like he means a damn, that he _matters_. It’s the same look Lilith gives Sans when she thinks he isn’t paying attention, but jokes on her, Sans is always paying attention.

It’s the same look Sloan is giving him, like he’s not broken and that he fucking matters. Like he was worth putting everyone else at risk, like he was worth the effort to put back together.

They both look at him like he was worth something.

Nightmare’s head tilts, and he glances away like he doesn’t know what to say, or he doesn’t know how to be gentle. Or at least has a hard time being what Sin needs him to be, “How are you feeling?” his voice is raspy and low, the magic of his body is damp like he’s showered, and Sin thinks he remembers memories of blood dripping down his face after taring a soul from someone’s chest.

Had Nightmare done that for him? The memories from his rescue were a little muffled from the beating he was certain he took from Asriel, making them soupy and unclear.

“Like shit.” Sin rasps back with a grin, and it makes Nightmare snort, a small grin flash at his mouth before his dower expression is back.

He’s expecting Nightmare to go easy on him, to be soft, hates the thought of them treating him like he’s fragile when Nightmare shakes his head, “Excellent, so you look about as good as you feel.”

Sin blinks at him, and grins back, “Thanks Boss.” He rasps and feels better. Sloan and Nightmare at least weren’t treating him like he was going to break apart at any minute, and he _needed_ this normalcy, “Where’s everyone else?”

Sloan shrugs, her smile still in place, “Probably nesting with the battle mages by now.”

That makes Sin frown, head tilting, “Nesting? Like fucking birds?”

Sloan smiles at him, and fuck if that doesn’t make Sin melt, feel _good_ all the more, “More like latching together like otters in a storm. After tough missions, battle mages need to have their Den’s near by. Covens sometimes, but their Den especially.” She blinks at them, and clears her throat, glancing away with uncertainty that Sin is too tired to look deeper into, “And allies. This was a tough mission, and we like to huddle up after tough missions. Ryder made a nest out of the mattresses in the compound to sleep together with. Everyone else is down there now, Lilith especially is having a tough time with the aftermath of going so deep into her LV.”

Sin frowned, “She’ll be okay?” he asked softly, and it drew another smile from Sloan.

“Yeah, last I checked on her, Sans had her all snuggled up with him, Edge, and Red.” Sloan tells him softly, petting at his skull again in gentle strokes, “She’s resilient. Lilith will bounce back and snuggling with everyone will help.”

Sin nods, and fuck if he doesn’t feel tired, “Shouldn’t you be down there?” he asks, his voice thick and tired, Nightmare looks away at his question.

Sloan presses another kiss to his knuckles, “She’s got everyone else. You got me and Nights.”

That makes warmth, squishy and fluffy spread trough him, makes his soul feel better, and he gives her a crooked smile, “Can we go down there?” he wants to be with Sloan, but wants her to be okay too. Lilith needs her sister, and that seemed like a fair compromise, and he gives his hips a hesitant shimmy, sighs when nothing hurts, “I’m not hurt?”

Sloan seems desperate to touch him, her hands gentle on his body, “We can, if you want.” She gives a little shrug, “Lola used the last of her magic to heal you. It, uh.” He glances away with a wince that makes Sin frown, “Lola can heal the damage, broken bones and what not. But, not the bruising. Just the life-threatening damage.”

Ah, so he still looks like he was beaten all to hell. “So, I’m especially pretty then?” he asks sardonically, not expecting an answer.

Sloan looks at him with a softening look, leaning her head into his hand, with a genuine smile, “I always think your especially pretty.” She tells him with such earnest that it makes his face scaled yellow and he chokes. Grinning at him, Sloan keeps going, “Anyways, do you want to go downstairs?”

The grin falls from Sin’s face and he hesitates. He has to face the Crew _~~including the mages~~_ eventually, and he might as well get it over with, “Alright.” Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the dread he was expecting at being around to many people, but these were his people.

Sloan nods, presses another kiss to his knuckles, “You want to shower first?” The idea sounds like a god send, and Sin’s helpless to nod yes. He does. Desperately. 

Sloan gives him another gentle smile, “Alright, lets try sitting up first.” And the warmth from her hands shifts to support his upper arm and shoulder, “Move slow Sin. You used a lot of magic.”

He nods, head spinning as she helps him up, and his fingers press into his temple as he takes a moment to get the wash of nausea to stop. All the while, Nightmare stares at him with an intense, unblinking socket, like he’s afraid someone is going to spirit Sin away.

And, fair enough, Sin thinks, that happened once already.

He takes the time he needs to breath through his sickness, feels his skull spin and he closes his sockets so he doesn’t vomit all over Sloan, “Nights?” he asks softly, needing a distraction, “Did you eat Gaster?”

Nightmare pauses, teeth parted before he shrugs, “Depends.”

Sloan snorts as Sin asks, “On?” and the shakiness finally fades slowly, and he’s sure he can stand without being sent to the ground in a heap.

“How upset you’ll be if the answer is yes.” Nightmare shrugs, still lounging back in his uncomfortable chair, giving him a slanted look.

Sin snorts, sitting up on his own and gives Nightmare a weak grin, “It’s a no, I won’t be upset.”

Nightmare nods as he stands, clearly intent on following he and Sloan to the bathroom and shrugs, “Then yes. I did.”

Sin nods doesn’t feel anything at the death of Gaster, the fucker that he was, slowly swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. He finds his feet slowly with Sloan next to him, ready to catch him should he take a tumble and face plant into the ground.

She doesn’t let go of his hand, and threads her fingers with his, squeezing his hand and fuck if he doesn’t feel better to have them by his sides. He gives Nightmare a bitter, small laugh, eyes dropping when its too hard to keep looking at them, “Thanks Nights.”

Nightmare shrugs, stepping ahead of he and Sloan, looking left and right as if he’s expecting to be attacked, and he’s readying an attack, “Your welcome.” He shrugs again, like it means nothing.

They all know it means the world to Sin.

-

Taking a breath, Sin pauses after pulling up his baggy black sweatpants, they hang low on his hips, his bones still damp after a hot, _hot_ shower that he scrubbed his bones in. He needed to scrub himself clean, needed to pull the horrific smell of Toriel and Asgore off his body, needed to scrub the feeling of the guards hands off, scrub Gaster out of his bones. Scrubbed so hard he was a fine pinky-yellow as he scoured himself raw, his bones turning pink with marrow and yellow with magic that came to the surface of his bones.

Sloan and Nightmare had walked him to the bathroom, one on either side of him, promising him to wait for him to finish, just waiting outside the door for him. He had kept his head down, ready to burn his jeans and white shirt, he’ll keep his jacket, everything else can go, thanks.

He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror when Sloan had let him into her bathroom, wasn’t ready to see the damage done to his body, could only look at his bruised ribs from above. The shadows of the shower stall hid the full extent of his bruises well enough, and now only one step would bring him to the mirror that would show him _exactly_ how hurt he had been.

One step, and he could see the damage done, and there was no denying it. He crumpled his clean black t shirt in his hands without meaning too as his anxiety began to rise. He felt nervous and sick, and part of him didn’t even want to look.

He was coward enough to know how bad it was but didn’t want to acknowledge how battered he must look. He didn’t want the others to see how weak he must look; he didn’t want to see the damage as they would, he didn’t want to look into the mirror. He wants to go lay down in the little nest that Ryder had set up and eat pizza, drink pop, and fall asleep with everyone else.

He didn’t want to be the one hurt, he didn’t want to look at the bruised bones that were his and know that he had been fucking helpless. He was an assassin for fuck sakes, and he’d been reduced to nothing in a matter of days.

Jokes on his world, his friends were bigger and badder.

That…didn’t exactly help his soul now, but he sure as fuck felt better to be sleeping next to Sloan. 

Yet, he was alone in the bathroom, standing nervous and terrified of a mirror, and didn’t want to see what was reflected back at him. He didn’t want to see his own reflection and see the face of a stranger staring back at him.

He’s sick of being hurt, and he’d rather not see firsthand what was done to his body.

He takes a breath, steels himself, and steps to the mirror. He’ll be okay, he tells himself, he’s okay. Sloan and Nightmare are just outside the door, he can call them if he needs to. He has help, just right there, and he grips his shirt tightly as he lifts his eye lights up from the sink.

He sees his hips first, his pants hanging low and the tops of his iliac crests are dark with bruising from where someone gripped him too hard. He swallows roughly, and his eye lights keep going up to his spine where he sees the splotches of handprints on his vertebra, sees where he was pinned down and squeezed.

His eye lights lift to his ribs, and he’s expecting the bruising there, the broken bones healed but the bruising reminded. He could see the boot print from where Asriel landed a solid kick on his body when he’d been already on the ground. Fucker, but Lilith got him, so it’s a fair trade, he thinks.

He’d take a boot to his rib cage any day over what she did to Asriel, and he’s stupidly giddy about it. Lilith was on his side, _his_ friend and did that on his behalf.

That thought gives him strength to keep looking up, winces at his throat, where Asriel had gripped him and pinned him down, trying to squeeze the life out of him. The handprint is more of a blotchy shadow, more like a mess then anything else, and Sin only knew what it was because it had been his throat that had been grabbed.

Taking a breath, he feels his soul stir, and wonders if maybe be should call Sloan or Nightmare before he looks up. He takes another breath, widens his stance as if he were readying for a blow, and looks up to his reflection.

The face that looks back at him makes Sin jerk back in surprises, the reflection jerking back with him and his soul burns in pain. His face is battered and hurt, the bruising so deep along the left side of his face that he can’t see the crack under his socket. His skull is a road map of his pain, the evidence of the beating he took was all in the dark, mottled bruising that was heavy on his skull, and his shoulder slump as he stares at his reflection.

Something painful gurgles up from his soul, chokes him as he stares at himself, and something fragile inside finally twists and bends. Something vulnerable and hurt, and he hates the tears that well stupidly at his sockets.

He hates himself suddenly, hates everything and hates how _helpless_ he feels. How he _let_ this happen to him. The blotted marks on his skull only compound what a _failure_ he was, and slowly he lifts his hand to touch lightly at his face, the tips of his fingers pressing gingerly against his upper cheek.

He winces, and grips tightly to the side of the sink as he stares in shock at what had been done to him. His skull was more splotchy bruises then healthy bone from where Asriel had laid into him, and Sin feels something give.

His knees go weak as the last three days finally collapse down onto him, and he fully feels the weight of what had happened to him. His knees buckle under him and he sinks to the floor as the tears flood his sockets and slip painfully down his face. Fuck, even crying hurt, and Sin clings to the side of the sink.

A bitter, _angry_ sob tries to pry its way past his teeth, and Sin is quick to choke it back, pressing his hand to his mouth to keep quiet. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, and he squeezes his sockets shut when he still thinks, _I want Sloan and Nights here!_

His soul desperately calls out to someone, to them, for comfort. It needs something, needs them, to cling to as it splinters. He weeps, mourns, for the things that had been done to his body. He grieves at the unfairness of it all, the wrongness of it all. The things others felt the right to inflict on him, because they thought they _owned_ him.

Jokes on them, fuckers, he gave himself willingly to a creature of nightmares and a powerful spell caster, but why the fuck would they want him now? Why would anyone?

Greif chokes him and he trembles like he’s cold on the bathroom floor and wishes someone would come for him this time. When he really needed someone the most.

His soul calls out to someone, _to Sloan and Nightmare,_ and he’s sure his soul will break if he doesn’t get a call back.

He’s alone, again, all over again, and tears spill over his sockets as he swallows down a sob.

The knock at the door startles him, makes him jump in horror and terror, and the sudden thought of being _caught_ like this makes him feel sick. He doesn’t want to be seen like this, even as his soul screams for connection.

“Sin?” Nightmare’s voice is muffled through the door, and part of him wants to throw the door open and cling to him, but he can’t fucking move, “Are you alright?”

He can’t get his throat to unclog, can’t tell Nightmare to go away, can’t tell him to help him. He can’t get anything out, all he can do is tremble as the weight of the last three day bares down on him.

He hears Nightmare sigh, but it sounds nervous and he hears the squeak of the floor as he shifts, “Sin? Sloan just went to get you water.” He sounds hesitant and unsure, “She’s going to be right back.”

He can hear Nightmare shift again, can hear the floor squeak as he shifts from side to side, and Sin feels like he’s going to suffocate. “Um. Sin, do you.” Nightmare stops, and Sin can practically see him squirming, “Your aura just nose dived.” He muttered through the wooden door, voice full of unease, “What do you. Can I. What do you need?”

Sin doesn’t fucking know, _~~he wants Sloan and Nightmare, he wants them here, with him and tell him he’s okay.~~_

He hears Nightmare sigh again, doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing and opens the door. Sin looks away, can’t bear to see Nightmare’s socket on him, couldn’t take to see the disappointment and disgust that he’s sure will be on Nightmare’s face. No, he would rather wallow in his own pain then see that and he squeezes his sockets shut and presses his forehead against the face of the sink.

He can hear Nightmare freeze in the doorway, hear the metal of the door handle creek when he squeezes it hard, and could hear him shift from side to side with indecision before the door closed. Sin felt his soul cave in, sure that he was alone again and hated the idea, the thought sent another cascade of tears down his face.

“Sin?” he startles at his name, jerks his head up to Nightmare as he crouched next to him, looking concerned and uneasy, and not knowing what the fuck do to.

Oh good, it’s not like Sin fucking knew either.

Nightmare looks nervously around the small bathroom, his hand hoovering over Sin’s shoulder as if he was afraid to touch before he gently lay is across Sin’s battered shoulder, the tips of his fingers brushing at the fresh brand in his shoulder blade. The soft touch makes him jerk and Nightmare goes still at his side as if he’d done something wrong.

He persists, clearing his throat even as his tentacles rattle against the tiled floor, “You need to breath.”

Sin nods, tries to suck in a breath that only seems to get stuck on the clog in his throat. Nightmare frowns at the weird, choking noise he makes, glances to the bathroom door before turning his attention back to Sin.

His soul sings every time Nightmare looks at him, feels comforted that he’s not alone even when the soul song that pulses back to his is weak and uncertain. Nightmare wasn’t built for comfort, not anymore, but fuck if Sin didn’t feel better at the fact he was _trying._

His frown deepened, and when Sin could only take a short, choking gasp, and Nightmare has no idea what the hell to do. He glances around, as if the bathroom would give him the answers he needed and finding none.

Taking a breath, Nightmare looks back to Sin and shifts his body so he could grip into his upper arm with one hand, and slap the centre of his back, directly between his shoulder blades, with the other. The blow jerks him forward, and whatever clog was choking Sin, came loose and he was able to suck back a desperate, shaky breath.

He coughed, choking on magic and tears, but was able to keep breathing a little better. Watery eye lights glance to Nightmare, flinching at the cold look, but his hands were gentle on his body. Careful as he rubbed his spine in soothing strokes, and the hand that steadied him at his upper arm cradled him rather then restrained him.

Moving slowly, to better telegraph his moves, Nightmare’s tentacles stretched up towards the sink, one coiling around a soft face cloth while the other turned on the cold water. He doesn’t take his intense gaze from Sin, like he’s afraid that Sin will dust if he looks away and turns off the water.

The tentacles wring out the excess water from the face cloth before one brings it down to Sin’s bruised skull and with a gentleness that Sin didn’t think Nightmare still possessed, carefully wiped his face off with the cool cloth.

Relief fills Sin, sooths his soul as he starts to unwind a little more at the cool, careful touch and he leans into Nightmare’s equally as cold hands. It should be awkward, Sin thinks, to have Nightmare silently cleaning his face with that unnerving, intense look never once changing, but Sin wouldn’t change who Nights was or his attempt at comfort.

He was careful and methodical about it, wiping away tears as they fell, the cold soothing on his bones, and with a shuttering sigh, Sin lets his sockets slip shut. He lets himself have this moment of peace, allows himself to be soothed even if he wishes Sloan where here too.

They both jerk, Sin’s sockets snapping open, when her voice calls out, startled by the noise and Sin sees Nightmare shift his body automatically to be between Sin and any threat. That too makes Sin feel better, knowing that Nightmare wasn’t going to let anything hurt him right now. Not when he was fragile and vulnerable, but it’s Sloan on the other side of the door, calling out Nightmare’s name.

“Thank fuck.” He nearly growls, and Sin sees the shiver of relief that Sloan is back. He tries not to let that hurt as much as it did. Was it that Nightmare didn’t want to be here with him? Sin wouldn’t blame him, he…

Nightmare doesn’t stop touching him gently, even when his face flashes with discomfort and fear as his tentacles stretch to open the door to the bathroom. The door swings open, and Sin sees Sloan looking startled on the other side, still as beautiful as Sin had ever seen her. She’s changed into her pajamas, a loose tank top and soft, short-shorts, and he’s soothed by her presence.

Sloan’s jaw dropped into shock at the sight in her bathroom, her grip on the bottle of water tightening when she sees him crumpled against the side of the sink and doesn’t fight Nightmare as a tentacle wraps gently around her wrists. She goes willingly when she’s tugged inside, her legs moving faster when she realizes that both Sin and Nightmare need her, and she overtakes the tentacles as another one closes the door behind her. 

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Nightmare hisses almost frantically, his eye light bright with panic that he’s trying not to let Sin see, glancing frantically between them. Sin feels bad that he made Nightmare panic, but he still clings to the fact that Nightmare is here and touching him.

Sloan drops to her knees next to Nightmare, her hand firm on his shoulder to sooth him, her smile smaller and gentle as she catches his tentacle to rewrap is around her wrist when he tries to pull away, “You’re doing great Nights. Just keep touching him.”

It suddenly makes sense why Nightmare was so frantic to Sin, why he was desperate for Sloan to come back. Its wasn’t because he didn’t want to touch Sin, it was because he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but it made Sin smile weakly at him through his tears.

Nightmare blinked at Sloan, teeth tight before he turned back to Sin, and kept wiping away the stupid tears that wouldn’t stop falling. Sin’s soul sings out to Nightmare’s again, and the monster before him pauses, jerks back a little as if he were surprised before he settled.

Nightmare’s socket drops and when his soul song echo’s back, it’s a little stronger. It makes Sin feel better, and he slumps weakly against the side of the sink.

“Good.” Sloan encourages them both carefully, before she turned her smile to him, and her own soul sung back stronger then both of theirs to him. His own soul latched onto the magic from hers, and he shivers at the connection, “Oh, my favorite Sin.” She says softly, her voice full of concern but not pity, “What happened?”

He shivers under her gaze, licking his teeth when he tried to speak, “Mirror.” He rasped, feeling weak and stupid, tired at everything that had happened.

Sloan blinks at him, glances up to the mirror, her lips part in a silent _ah._ She looks back to him with a smile, “It’s okay Sin. You’re okay now.” Her hands flex as if she wants to touch him, and fuck Sin wants her to touch him, but she keeps her hands to herself, “Do you want some water?”

He shivers, leaning into Nightmare’s hands and nods as a fresh wave of trembling washes over him. Sloan never faulters, not her smile and nor do her hands shake as she carefully hands him the bottle of water. They’re so patient with him, letting him suck back the water desperately until the soft plastic of the bottle caves in, and he drops the empty container next to him.

Sloan doesn’t seem to mind, smiles at Sin softly as her hand falls back to Nightmare’s shoulder and squeezes it, “What do you need Sin?” she asks gently, leaving it up to him, letting him dictate how far this went.

His soul flutters like a trapped bird, terrified at what was happening here but desperate for a careful touch. He craves connection after what the fuck just happened to him, frantic for a touch that didn’t hurt, but he didn’t have the words to ask for what he needed.

Shaking weakly against the sink, Sin leaned into Nightmare’s hands a little more, giving Sloan a helpless look. Something like understanding clicks in her eyes, and she gives him a soft look, “Do you want to be held?”

He’s touched starved after three days of either being hurt or ignored, and the thought of being held by Sloan and Nightmare was a pleasant thought, and part of Sin is terrified he’s going to wake up back in his cell. He’s terrified that this is his mind trying to cope with the abuse, but his soul screams at him to shut up and enjoy this.

Licking his teeth, his soul both heavy with apprehension and light with want, Sin nods despite how he quivers.

“Okay.” Sloan’s voice is soft, as she shifts back, fingers hooking around Nightmare’s collar bone to pull him along with her, so they could lean back against the wall. Nightmare was forced to let go, leaving Sin to weakly shake, and he misses the cool touch on his body. Sloan settles and opens her arms, sitting on the damp floor with him, “Come here Sin.”

Sin’s face crumples, relief filling him that they still wanted to touch him, that they still wanted him even a little bit. Greif swelled again, and Sin crawled to Sloan, allowed her to reach for him to pull him into her lap and against her chest.

He collapsed against her, his thin frame going limp against her willowy one, and her arms went around him tightly, “I’ve got you.” She whispered against his skull before her lips pressed into a careful kiss against a bruise.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sin goes limp in her arms as his own curl around her waist and he presses his face into the crook of her throat and just allows himself to be held.

There’s a moment of hesitation before Nightmare’s tentacles slowly, carefully, crawl up his spine and into his rib cage to coil around his ribs as he leans into Sin’s body.

Sin sighs, lets his sockets shut as he’s wrapped in Sloan’s warmth and Nightmare’s cool body, and knows he’s safe. Safe to fall apart, safe to not be okay.

Safe to be okay as well.

Trembling, Sin allowed grief to swell in his soul and fresh tears well under his clenched sockets, but something soft fills him as well. Something vulnerable and fond of the mage and monster that cage him in, and Sin knows he’s safe.

He sighs softly, relaxing completely in Sloan’s arms and instead clings to the feeling of affection, clings to the warm soul songs from Sloan and Nightmare, and knows he’s going to be okay.

“Thanks.” He tells them thickly, enjoys the swell of soft emotion that drown out the hurt, and he feels a little drunk from it, “I like you guys.” He muttered.

Nightmare stills, fear creeping into his own soul, but Sloan presses a kiss to the top of his skull, “I like you guys too.” She tells them quietly, gently holding Sin, and would for as long as he needed.

He was okay, he was safe and they didn’t hate him. Sin didn’t doubt for a second his recovery was going to be a long one, but fuck if Sloan holding him didn’t feel good. He allows himself to get lost in the warmth of being held for a little while longer.

He was going to be okay. _~~He’s going to be loved.~~_

Clinging to Sloan and Nightmare, Sin relaxes, sighing softly, and allowed himself to be held. To be coddled, just this once, and takes the comfort that he’s being offered.

\- 

Sin doesn’t fight Sloan as she leads him to the living room. He’s holding her hand tightly, his fingers threaded through hers and there’s a pulse of fear as they near the living room where the Crew was settling down to sleep.

She gives him a gentle smile, as if she can feel his fear and he’s helpless but to give her a smile back even when it makes his face hurt. Nightmare’s at his back, another soothing presents, and he braces himself to see everyone.

Anxiety is starting to build in his chest, dread clings to him like something thick and heavy as they step into the room, and he hears Red say with utter glee, “Why does a transformer hum?”

It’s the stupidest question Sin has ever heard, and he pauses with Sloan in the doorway of the room as Red says with delight, “Because it can’t sing.”

He feels his sockets widen when he hears _Lilith_ giggle, sees her leaning heavily into Edge and looking tired. Sans is in front of her, holding both of her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles in soothing patterns.

She looks tired when she looks up at him, but grins overly brightly when she sees him, “How are you feeling Sin?”

He’s afraid that they’ll treat him differently now, hates the idea so he plasters on a pained grin, “About as good as you look.”

Lilith blinks at him, and she relaxes, “So shit?”

Sin nods, “Yeah, that’s about right.” And he relaxes. They aren’t going to treat him with the kid gloves.

He looks around the room to the Crew’s excited faces, and they’re all happy to see him but he’s grateful that they aren’t tying to hug him. He isn’t sure he can handle being touched by too many people right now. He had what contact he wanted; he’d work on the rest when he was ready.

He freezes, for a moment, when his eye lights fall to Gaster and he grips at Sloan and takes a half step back before he feels this Gaster’s magic. He’s halfway behind her when familiar magic brushes at his, and he pauses from hiding.

This Gaster is hoovering near Papyrus, they were talking in soft voices before Sin came into the room, and now he’s looking up at Sin with a sad, hurt expression. Taking that half step out from behind Sloan, Sin’s head tilts, “You were in the bathhouse with me.” He sounds in awe, hurt and sad.

Gaster nods, looking down at his knotted fingers even as his body drips with void magic, his voice sounding both far away and close, and nothing like his father, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Relief sweeps Sin’s soul and he doesn’t fear this monster, “You did more then enough.” And if his voice goes thick again, no one says anything.

Sloan squeezes his hand and careful leads him into the middle of the room, the most protected spot, and as Sloan pulls Sin down to sit beside her, there’s a soft sigh from everyone else in the room. Everyone’s back, everyone’s safe and all in one place. The girls are safe with Toriel for the night, but some how everything just seems right.

Undyne settles in at the wall at her back, Alphys at her side with an arm thrown around her shoulders, and she closes her eye, “When’s the pizza gonna get here Ry?”

It’s the most normal thing any of them have said in nearly three days, and Sin relaxes into Sloan. His soul curls at the thought of poisoned food but fuck he’s hungry. And tired.

He leans into Sloan as Nightmare sits gingerly next to him, as Ryder shrugs next to Papyrus, “Soon. Within the next half hour at least.”

Undyne nod, “We’re going to need to fix the front yard.”

That, for some reason, makes Lilith giggle more, and Ryder nods, an arm going over Papyrus’s shoulders, “I’ll fix it in the morning.” Because like hell where any of them leaving the nest tonight.

The room falls quiet again, but not in an awkward way that Sin was used to when it was quiet. This was something warmer, something comforting, and he relaxes slowly with the secure knowledge that he was safe here.

He leans into Sloan a little more, sockets going half mast when Lilith quietly says, in her unusually expressive voice, “I know how to get rid of Chara.” Everyone looks to her, brows furrowed and mouths pulling into frowns. Lilith is more asleep then awake, leaning so heavily into Edge that if he shifted, she would fall into his lap. Her eyes are open only to slits, and she still holds Sans’s hands like lifelines, “We use the same magic that Gaster did. Give her a body. Then I stab her in the face like Norman Bates.”

“Norman Bate’s didn’t stab Marion in the face.” Sans tells her mildly before anyone else could say anything, because of course he did, and it makes Lilith smile tiredly at him.

“None the less. My point is valid. We need to stop Chara, and I want to stab her in the face.” Lilith nods to them, still loopy and tired looking.

“It’s not a bad idea Lilith,” Sloan tells her softly, still holding Sin’s hand, “But do you understand the kind of power we would need? The levels of magic, even if we were to steal it like Chara did?”

Lilith blinks from Edge’s shoulder, and when she grins Sin could see the person she could have been had she not been in war, “A skele-ton?”

Sloan sighs, but her expression is no less amused, “Yes Lili, a skele-ton. We would also have to trap her. Somehow.” Sloan chews at her lip and frowns, “She came at Sin side ways, she sent his people after him, so I don’t know if protection charms would help ward her off until we can figure out what to do.”

Gaster looked up with a frown, “That’s her plan. To open portals to each of your worlds and send you home.” The Crew shivers as the Den frowns, “But she couldn’t get near Sans because of the protection magic layered into him by Lilith. I think it’ll be worth putting charms into their cloths at the very least.”

Sin shivers, knows where the others have come from, and if they can spare them what he went through he’s all for it.

Lilith nods as her eyes start to slip shut, “And find a way for me to go all Hitchcock’s Psycho on her ass.” She gives them a crooked smile and makes the stabbing motion, “Reet-reet mother fucker.”

Sans gives her a little chuckle, “Alright, come on stabby. Why don’t you lay down before you fall down.”

Lilith sighs and rubs at her eyes, “Alright.” She’s passive and soft when nearly falls into Sans’s lap after peeling herself from Edge, laying her head on Sans’s femurs. She’s asleep before they even get her to fully settle, and the three skeletons around her give her painfully soft looks.

“Lilith is right.” Nightmare says suddenly from beside Sloan, drawing everyone’s attention to the problem they still had, “Sure, we can charm and try to protect everyone, but that wont do us much good if she opens a portal to Underfell and lets Asgore’s army in.”

Sloan frowns, and her hand tightens on Sin’s briefly, “It would take an astronomical amount of magic to reincarnate Chara. And how would we get access to the creation magic to do it?”

Sin shrugs and when he speaks his voice is rough, “Could ask Reaper and Error for help.” He offers hesitantly, making Ripper laugh and Nightmare sigh.

Sloan frowns at them, confused, “Who are they?”

“Assholes.” Nightmare grouses out, dropping his chin into his hand.

It makes Sin grin, even if it hurts, and he figures he’s got a little leeway with Nights, “They’re Nightmare’s best frenemies.”

Sloan blinks at him even as cyan magic sears across Nightmare’s face, “They are not my frenemies.”

The grin that crawled across Sloan’s face was one of amused delight, “Are you sure there Nights? Your tone certainly says otherwise.”

He glared back at her, but Sloan didn’t shy from his annoyance, and continued to grin brightly at him. From across the room Felix laughed, “Oh my gods, someone else’s bullshit.” He dropped his chin into his hand, and brightened, “Give me the tea Sin.”

Sin’s brow furrowed, “The tea?” he asked slowly.

Sloan’s thumb brushed across his knuckles softly again, and he nearly melted into the touch, “He means the story. Like spill your guts, spill the tea.”

Sin gives her a blank look, still having no idea what the hell he was talking about and her thumb softly brushing at his knuckles was distracting. Her soft smile was redirected from Nightmare to him, before she softly said, “Gossip.”

Understanding dawned, and his mouth parted into a silent ‘O’ even as Ripper’s straightened up from his miserable slump near Gore and Crow, “Oh! I got the gossip for ya!” he told them brightly, earning a glare from Nightmare.

“There’s nothing to tell.” He told them coldly, only drawing out a wider grin from Ripper, “Error used to be on our crew, and now he’s not. He went all soft for Reaper and left.”

Sloan turned and raised a brow at the bitter tone, even when Ripper laughs, “Boss is still salty about it ‘cause Error was almost on his level. Then he fell in love with Reaper, and he left with him. Destroying worlds that are collapsing, fucking, probably. You know, fun stuff.”

Nightmare rolled his eye light with a huff, “Point is, Error left and not on the best terms.”

“Frenemies.” Ripper told them gleefully.

“And I can’t imagine either of them willingly helping us gather the magic we would need for this to work.” Nightmare shrugged, looking annoyed this was coming out.

“What did you do to him?” Sloan asked with a raised brow, almost looking amused. She still held onto Sin’s hand, even as he leaned into her.

Nightmare shrugged again, “Nothing he couldn’t take.” He groused, earning chuckles from the rest of the Crew, “Either way, its over with and I doubt they’d be so willing.”

“But they would find the irony delightful.” Ripper chimed in, “So would Cross and your brother.”

That earns a hiss and tentacles rattle with irritation at the mention of his brother and Cross. That particular betrayal had stung a little more then usual since, you know, Cross left them for his brother. Apparently, there wasn’t much to be said about loyalty anymore.

Sloan sighs, the fingers of the hand that weren’t holding onto Sin’s hand start to creep towards Nightmare’s wrist, gently petting the bones there, “Nights, is there anyone you haven’t pissed off?” The touch to his body is a light one, soft and well…nice. If he pushes into it, well, sue him,

“Everyone who doesn’t hate me is in this room.” Nightmare mutters ruefully, scratching at his lower jaw, “And really, I wouldn’t say that Error hates me, it’s a strong, mutual dislike.”

Sin yawned, soul aching for food, and wills the pizza to get there faster as he leans into Sloan’s willowy body a little more fully, his bruised cheek settling carefully against Sloan’s shoulder, wincing as the magic of his face smooshes against her soft skin, “You called Error a hypocritical little bitch, and his boy friend a dank cloud of bull shit.”

They all stare at him, and Sin grins as his sockets slide shut. Maybe he’d take a nap just before the pizza arrived, that’ll make him feel better.

Felix laughs first, high, and amused much to Nightmare’s initial irritation, until the mage wheezed out, “Nights, that’s fantastic.”

Sin smiles as his sockets slip closed completely, and feels Sloan laugh softly, “It’s okay, we’re not well liked either.”

Sin falls asleep then, safe and feeling _better_ about himself. He’s in a mage compound, surrounded by killers and demons and nightmares, and they would walk into hell for him. _Him_.

They came, for him.

With that knowledge, Sin settles down against Sloan, feels not so horrible about himself, and falls into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

It’s the most restful sleep he’s gotten in days, and he wouldn’t be anywhere else that night. There was no place safer in the multiverse, no where else that Sin would be so safe.

Softening against Sloan’s side, Sin relaxes, feeling happy and loved, and finally just rests. 

-

Hours later, when the sun has gone down and the moon is high, Nightmare wakes to the feeling of creeping worry that rolls over his magic.

His first thought was an intruder, someone in their home _~~his home~~_ , when his people where asleep and vulnerable. His tentacles sharpen at his back, ready to defend, ready to mutilate anyone who dare do them harm, almost hopes it’s Chara just so he can show her _real_ strength.

A thought slips into his mind, the unlikely consideration that someone had managed to get around Sloan’s protection spells and the battle mage’s instincts, sooth his soul deep want to murder Chara. Both were preposterous, and honestly, Nightmare would be amused to see anything get near Sans tonight when Lilith was still riding the effects of her LV.

No, whatever that worry was, Nightmare doubted it was a real threat.

Moving slowly, he sits up with a frown, looking around the dark room carefully. Around him the Den and the Crew were sound asleep, not even aware that he had woken up.

Sloan groaned in her sleep, Sin pulled to her chest protectively, his skull tucked under her chin despite the several inches he had on her. Her arms were around Sin tightly, and the hand that had latched onto his wrist just as tightly, fell away.

She patted the makeshift bed for him, brows furrowing in her sleep as she blindly sought him out. Huffing a sigh, Nightmare smooths out a tentacle for her to grip onto and she’s soothed back to sleep.

He watches Sloan and Sin sleep for a moment, feels that weird pulse that he doesn’t know what it is in his chest. Some kind of soft feeling rolling in his soul that makes the light shard stuck in his soul sparkle happily.

Fucking shard.

He tries not to look too much into the fact that he doesn’t mind that Sloan clings to him so tightly, nor the fact that she holds Sin so sweetly. Keeping his bruised, battered body tucked into hers, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt that she would end someone who came for him.

Especially in the early hours after the bloody trip into Sin’s world.

Stretching, Nightmare looks around the room, looking for the source of that worry. Must be one of his having nightmares, but that was easy enough to sort. It didn’t take much to absorb those negative thoughts, and sooth his boys back into sleep.

Or the mages if they needed it.

Yet, Crow and Gore are curled together, star fishing on top of each other. Sugar was curled tightly into Crow’s other side, squishing him between he and his brother.

Undyne and Alphys are sound asleep, curled together near Ryder and Papyrus. Gaster was sound asleep near his younger son, sleeping between he and Undyne.

Felix was asleep by the door, Wine curled into his side, skull resting over his heart. His much smaller, thin body was pressed into Felix’s muscular one, clawed hands hooking into Felix’s shirt. Coffee was on Felix’s other side, curled on his side, with his spine pressed into Felix’s side, squeezing a pillow to his rib cage.

All three snoring and drooling.

Nightmare watched them for a moment, watched as Coffee suddenly stretched and rolled over to curl into Felix’s side as well. Dotted around the three of them, the four hell hounds lay stretched out, snoring softly.

Shaking his head, he glances to Lilith and Sans. Lilith is squished between Sans and Edge, sleeping deeply and unbothered by what happened earlier that day. She’s laying pressed into Edge with him acting as the big spoon, long arms curled around her and Sans to hold them both.

Sans is curled in Lilith’s arms, allowing himself to be held like a living teddy bear, his own arms wrapped around her lower ribs as he snuggled in. One of Sans’s hand reached out to Edge’s chest, fingers digging into the soft black t shirt as they both curled around Lilith.

Finally, awake and away from everyone else, looking like they were conspiring like the world’s worse thieves, Red and Ripper had their skulls together and whispering frantically. Between them sat an open book, and Ripper was pointing at something.

With a great, put upon sigh, Nightmare stood and slowly made his way over to the two of them, “What the fuck are you two doing?” 

Two skulls swilled to face him, and had Nightmare been anyone else, he would have felt the creeping danger from these two. In the dark room with the long windows that let crawling pale moonlight in, Ripper’s deep, void black sockets and Red’s bright crimson eye lights pierced the night to stare at him.

They’re still and unmoving, and Nightmare can feel the shift in the air as danger is heavy around them. He’s startled them, and the dense air around them lessens as they let go of their magic and slouch into their mattress.

At least the weird sense of comfort they found here hadn’t lessened their senses. If anything, Nightmare wonders if their instincts has gotten sharper under the careful guidance of the mages.

Ripper gives him a bright grin and the darkness around them seems to lessen at his amusement, “Heya boss.” He says brightly in a mock whisper to not wake the others, “We’re just thinking.”

Nightmare snorts as he carefully steps over Lilith and Edge’s long legs to sit with the two of them, “Don’t fucking hurt yourselves.”

Ripper laughs as Red gives him a flat look and flips him the bird. Nightmare smirks at them, cheeky fuckers, it’s why he kept them around, “What do you think you found?”

The smug, amused looks fall from their faces, and they both look down at the book between them, neither looking like they wanted to be the first to speak.

With a deep sigh, it’s Red who starts, “Nights,” and he must be getting too comfortable, if he was risking calling him what the mages did, “have ya noticed that,” Red pauses, glances to his brother asleep and curled around the battle mage, “We’re all awfully comfortable here?”

He tries not to think of how his tentacle is currently wrapped up in Sloan’s fingers as she holds on to him because it brought her a measure of comfort. He doesn’t think how often he’s slept in her bed with Sin since he’d been allowed out of the infirmary, and not every time had been because Sin was having nightmares.

He doesn’t think about Lilith suggesting they feed him dark souls, or Sloan carrying it out. He doesn’t think about Lola making his Crew lunch, or Ryder looking out for Sugar or Felix buying the kids nice things. He doesn’t think of how, when they were feeling better, the mages did things with them while they healed and gathered magic. He doesn’t think how they’ve never suggested they leave.

He doesn’t think about how they launched a mission that Fate smiled upon and brought justice to a monster who otherwise never would have gotten it.

“What’s your point?” he asks instead, giving them a shrewd look, watching how they both share a look.

“Boss.” Rippers starts again, “We’ve all been acting like we’ve known these mages for years rather then weeks. We’re treating them like their one of us, and so are they.”

Nightmare gives them both a flat look, prompting Red to speak next, “I slept on Lilith.” He says with a weird mix of stunned disbelieve and longing, “I was comfortable enough to fall asleep around new people, and _on_ Lilith. Nightmare, I didn’t sleep that deeply in Underfell.”

“Well, to be fair Underfell’s a piece of shit. So.” Nightmare shrugs, purposely being obtuse.

Red rolls his eyes lights and begins to tick off his fingers, “Glass is calmer here, Crow hasn’t had a break down since we’ve been here, Sin’s been awfully cuddly, Edge is fucking spooning with Lilith right now, Wine has been sleeping in Felix’s bed for at least a week, Sugar is getting over his fear of Undyne.”

“They remember what foods we all like and _make it_ when we’re feeling crappy. They’re fucking nice to us.” Ripper added.

Red nodded, as if they were on to something, “They launched a fucking campaign to get Sin back that was only supposed to be a rescue mission that turned into a blood bath. Who does that for allies? You don’t, that kind of devotion doesn’t come from no where.”

Nightmare glares at them, eye light flicking back and forth between them, “So they got attached, what’s your point?”

Red shakes his head no, “Nights, it’s not just them. It’s us too. We’re feeling…” he pauses, looking for the right words, his hand rolling on his writs, “We’re feeling safe here too. We’re getting attached. It’s weird! Why are we so enamored with the mages so readily? Why are we so calm here?”

Nightmare shrugged, “Safety? Food? Shelter? We have the basic resources to not feel threatened?” 

Red rolls his eye lights, and yeah, okay even Nightmare thinks that sounds weak. “Boss.” Ripper’s voice is small as he turns the book over to him, “I think it’s more then that.” Nightmare takes the book from him, looking down with a frown, “I found this when we were looking for a way to get to Sin. I don’t think Sloan meant to bring this one up from the armory.”

Nightmare’s head snapped up, irritation sparking in his soul, “This is Sloan’s?”

Ripper put his hands up, “I was only borrowing it. But Nightmare, look.” He tapped at a paragraph in the book, “Read this. I think they bonded to us. They call it Den magic. What the book describes is what’s happening right now!”

Nightmare glared at him before he dropped his socket to read the passage even as Red went on, “Nights, it talks about how mages who form Dens, will bond quickly. Like real quick. Like, will walk into hell for a Den mate at the drop of a hat after two weeks quick.”

Ripper is nodding as Nightmare reads, his soul sinking with every word as Ripper chimes in, “Yeah, and it works both ways. The new Den mates’ bond to the existing Den quick too. Quick enough to feel safe when they never have before. Quick enough that when they have nightmare or are afraid, will seek out a source of comfort from the existing Den.”

“The passage also says that creatures of the magical realm can bond as well. I think they were referring to the fairy tale folk, but we’re magic too.” Red adds, looking down and almost sad when he glances to Lilith and Sans.

That sinking feeling makes Nightmare feel sick, “So we’re being manipulated?”

It’s like he struck them both, and they’re shaking their heads no, but Ripper is quicker with his words, “Fuck no. Not at all.” He almost sounds aghast, “Den magic is highly revered and treasured by mages. In mage culture, they believe that finding your Den mates means you’ve been blessed by Fate herself. Den’s mean more to mages then Covens and alliances do. To do harm to a mage’s Den, is to declare war with that Den. To reject your Den is like a crime against humanity to them. There needs to be a serious reason to reject one’s Den, to declare them unworthy.”

Nightmare glanced up at them from under his brow. Red nodded, looking stone faced, “Would explain why they went so hard to get Sin back. If he were a Den mate.”

Hearing that sooths that tight coil in his soul. They weren’t planning on using him or the Crew, they weren’t being manipulated at least.

Ripper scratched at his chin, the sound of bone on bone like nails on a chalk board, “Can’t figure out why they wouldn’t want to tell us though.”

Nightmare snorts and Red rolls his eye lights, “Why the fuck would they?” that draws their attention to Red, “Look at us. At who we are, the rumors they would have heard about us. Before we tried to _kidnap_ Lilith, the only things they knew about us was what Dream told ‘em.” 

Red shook his head, fingers moving as if he itched for a smoke, “You’re worried about being manipulated? How do you think they felt to find out that pieces of shit like us are their Den mates? The scourges of the multiverse. The trash. The _bad_ guys after they spent years in war with assholes like us. How the fuck where they supposed to know if we would have used them to destroy universes because of our connection.”

Ripper’s shoulders drop, “Oh. Right.”

Red snorts, “They must have been fucking disappointed to find out that, after waiting for years, they land us as their Den mates. Broken, fucked up versions of Sans. _We’re_ the ones that have nothing to offer in return.”

Ripper flinches at his words, hunching inwards even when Nightmare’s tentacles flick with annoyance, “That’s enough Red.”

Red sighs, “And what could we offer them?”

Nightmare puts down the book and glances around the room. Looking to where his Crew and the mage’s curl together, curl around Sin as if to dare something to come for him. When he speaks, it’s slowly, “I don’t think it works like that Red.” He snorts, “No, this isn’t Underfell.” He looks down to the book with a frown, “They would treasure us. Cherish us.”

“The expectation would be, we would do the same.” Ripper added quietly, “And its already happening Boss. We’re getting attached but so are they. The Den and the Crew, ain’t so different, and the bonding is happening quick.”

That gets Nightmare too look back to Ripper as he continues, “Nights, we could have what we always wanted here.” That gets Red to look up too, “Someplace safe. And quiet. A proper home base with a Den of mages that no one will fuck with. They’ll offer you souls, and feed Gore. They want to help Sugar, and Red fucking fell asleep with more then one person near by.”

Ripper shrugs, “I mean, yeah we gotta deal with Chara, but we could be safe here.”

Nightmare snorts and closes the book, “Safe enough for your lack-of _discretion_ to join us?”

Ripper and Red both flinch, and when Ripper speaks again, he’s quieter, “Well. Yeah. That’s the whole point, right? And I mean, I don’t think we’ll ever get safer then being loved by mages.” Nightmare makes a small _tsk_ sound, but Ripper’s feeling emboldened, “I mean. Boss, you could bring the kid here. She’d be safe, I don’t think your bro would have the balls to square off with Sloan. I mean, Ink would, but you could take him no problem.”

“Especially if your feeling good.” Red agrees quietly, “And if they keep feeding you souls.” He shrugs.

Nightmare opens his mouth, to say what, even he isn’t sure, but Ripper interrupts, “Listen, Boss. Just think about it. We’re wanted here. We’re safe here. Fuck the rest of the multiverse. No one cares about us, so fuck them.” 

Nightmare’s teeth slowly click shut and he glances to the book, and wonders what it would be like to be cherished? To be someone’s _favorite_ for once. To not have them leave for his brother or a better option?

It’s too good to be true, it’s too easy and Nightmare doesn’t trust it. Regardless how his soul sings to Sloan’s and he ignores how hers sings back.

According to the stupid, fucking book, that was pretty common among large Dens. Smaller Dens could get a read on each other quick, but larger ones would ‘sing’ to each other.

Fuck.

“Keep this quiet.” He orders, “We don’t know if this is real or if they’re just weird.”

Red snots, “Says the monster whose still got a grip on Sloan.” And he nods to his tentacle.

“Regardless,” Nightmare brushes it off, “If your wrong, this could break the hearts of the others. I won’t get their hopes up just to have this torn away if they mages do ask us to leave.” Their faces fall at that logic. He closes the book, intending on reading it all the way though later, “Find out what you can. Verify this. Let’s see if this is real.”

“And if it is?” Ripper asks quietly, squirming a little.

Nightmare pauses, glaring at the cover of the book, “We’ll burn that bridge down when we get to it.” 

They both nod in agreement, and Nightmare is about to suggest they go back to sleep, its too fucking early, when Lilith’s hand suddenly does the patting around, looking for something, thing that Sloan did for him.

She huffs a sigh, and when her eyes slip open, crimson magic is murky and dull with exhaustion. Her words are slurred and small as she pushes herself up, “Red?”

Red’s skull tips, and Nightmare can see the unusual softening in his eye lights and knows in his soul that what they figured out was real. Den magic that bound them together regardless of what they wanted.

That should bother him more then it does.

He glances to Sloan, soft and asleep, curled around Sin’s battered body, and knows beneath that pretty face is a viscous mage that melted a royal family and their advisors. She had done it without a second thought for Sin, because they were Den mates. It had been a brutal move, one that made something stir in Nightmare’s soul and he softened towards her.

_~~And if he thought it had been hot as hell, well, Nightmare wasn’t saying.~~ _

Still, allies didn’t go to war at the drop of a hat like that. No, that _was_ real devotion.

“What’s wrong angel dust?” Red asks from between Nightmare and Ripper, making Ripper grin widely at him. Red ignores him, watches Lilith as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

She’s another that suffered for them, being so deep in her LV for so long. Again, its something normal allies didn’t do.

“Why are you all awake?” she asks quietly, blinking at them slowly, looking tired and sore, and hadn’t flinched at what needed to be done for Sin, “It’s early.”

Red huffed, giving Nightmare a _I told you so_ look, before he looked back to Lilith, “You’re right sweetheart. Why don’t we go back to sleep?” he stands slowly, carefully picking his way back to where they slept, dropping down behind Sans. He’s not quite touching, but their bodies brush.

Lilith nods, sinking back down to snuggle back into Sans, her hand stretching out to wrap around Red’s upper arm, her fingers gentle as they circle his humerus.

It’s with a twist of his soul that Nightmare watches Red’s sockets sink shut, and he relaxes into Lilith’s touch. Accepts it without a fight, or a stabbing, and Nightmare _knows_ the truth.

Fuck.

He looks to Sloan, asleep with Sin. Safe and whole, and undeniably soft. A kindness he didn’t deserved but had unexpectedly dropped in his lap, and he worries.

He worries about what Error will do when he realizes that Nightmare’s going soft. What about his stupid boyfriend? Or worse, his brother?

What will Dream say when he finds out he can _feel_ again. Probably something stupid. Like, they could just forget all the horrible things they had done to each other over the years and try to talk him into coming home.

Yeah, thanks-no thanks. He made that call years ago.

He worries, what Dream will do if he comes here with an attitude and wants them gone. He doubts the mages would take kindly to anyone telling them who they could and couldn’t have in their universe. Especially if Red and Rips are right.

_~~They are.~~ _

“Boss?” Ripper actually sounds worried, skull tilting in question.

He watches Sloan sleep, knows the strength she has, her Den has, and wonders if he’ll put her at risk. Were they even worth it?

Would the mages even choose them?

Sloan curls her fingers around his tentacle in her sleep, drawing it closer and it automatically twines in her fingers.

_~~They would.~~ _

“My brother won’t leave this world alone once he realizes we’re here.” He says quietly, watching as Red falls from a false sleep to pacify Lilith’s instinct and into a real one, “And if your right, they’ll fight to keep us here.”

“Exactly!” Rippers says brightly, looking delighted.

“And if they get hurt?” Nightmare askes, his soul sinking again at the thought thanks to the stupid light shard in his soul. His words make the smirk fall from Ripper’s face, and he looks down with a frown at his hands.

He pouts, “We can keep ‘em safe.” He mutters, “Keep each other safe. That’s what a Den’s supposed to do.”

“It shouldn’t be their job to keep us safe from dangers we bring.” The words taste like dust on his tongue, and it makes Ripper frown, “That wasn’t part of the deal.” 

“Don’t think we’re allowed to make that call Boss.” Ripper says quietly, watching as Sloan pulls the tentacle closer to her chest as if too protect it, “Don’t think they’ll take kindly to us taking the choice away.” He shrugs, picking at his fingers, “Besides, going to Sin wasn’t part of the deal neither. That sure as fuck didn’t stop ‘em. Did it?”

He’s not wrong, and Nightmare hates it. Hates how he’s out of his depth here, hates that he actually gives two shits about these mages. Hates that he cares enough about Sloan that he worries what Dream and Ink will do to this world if they find them.

He’s terrified that Sloan would want the good version, if given the option. 

He pushes the useless thought away. Sloan wasn’t like that; she was loyal and the mages were closer in soul to what the Crew was then the Star Sanses.

Right?

Huffing, Nightmare stands, tucking the book into his inventory as he makes his way back to the mattress in the pale light of the moon to lay beside Sloan, “Go to sleep Ripper.” He orders as he settles down, his tentacle curling tightly between Sloan’s fingers and he refuses to feel anything when she sighs softly in her sleep and draws him closer.

It doesn’t mean anything, right?

He ignores Ripper’s laugh and focuses on Sloan’s soft hand as she stretches out to lay it across his collar bone. She sighs happily when she touches him, and for a brief, quiet moment in the too early hours of the moring, Nightmare pretends he can keep all this.


	22. In the Days After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sin is having a tough time coping the days after his assault, Sugar's getting used to the surface, and Crow goes to a pool party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon Lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all enjoying your days, and staying safe. 
> 
> This chapter maybe one of the fluffiest things I've written in this story, it's all sad fluff with hurt/comfort that the Crew and the Den need. :3 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: vague discussion of what happened to Sin, vague discussion what happened to Sans in the Ninety Forth Time, vague discussion of Crows world, vague discussion of murder.

None of the mages went far from the compound in the days after they brought Sin home, not that he was complaining mind you. He was far from okay, far from anywhere near okay, and having them around, made things less terrible.

In the noise of breakfast, and training and exercising, he didn’t have much time to think about what happened to him back in his own world. Didn’t have the time to comprehend really what they had done to his body, and the bruising had barely begun to fade from his bones. Sin looked and felt like hell, but the problem with surviving was the world moved on.

Slowly things started to get back to almost normal. The battle mages had convinced everyone to sleep togeather for three full nights before Ryder had said it was time to start getting back to their usual routine.

That didn’t stop Sin from sleeping in Sloan’s room, safe and warm between her and Nightmare. They at least kept the night terrors away, and woke him up before things got too bad.

Still, the mages stuck close to the compound, probably for him, and shit if that didn’t make him feel good. Feel wanted.

Lilith was still having trouble regulating her emotions, leaving Sans and Red always near by as they stuck close. Getting back into their schedule helped, Edge went running with her in the mornings, but the competition was greatly dampened, turning into more of a real run then a training exercise.

But, fuck it. If anyone knew about baby steps, it was Sin. 

Nightmare’s came and went at night, soothed away by Sloan and Nights, and she’d been talking about getting him into therapy. The mages all insisted it would help, but Sin wasn’t sure. The thought of talking about what happened, made it real, regardless of who that was.

But…he thought about it. At least.

Moving into day four and five, things started to feel less stressful, less like someone was going to come storming into the compound and attack him. Less like he was in constant danger, and quietly reminded himself that he was very well protected here.

Curling his long body into a ball, head tucked between his knees as he trembles, Sin tries desperately to cling to that.

He’s safe here. The mages made _damn_ sure of that, and no one would hurt him here. Sloan wouldn’t let that happen.

He _knows_ he’s safe here, and he doesn’t understand why the hell he can’t get his body to stop shaking or the tears to stop falling helplessly down his bruised face.

It was a rare afternoon that he was on his own, the first time since everything, if Sin thought about it. The first time he was left to his own devices, left in his own head, and he can’t stop mulling the whole thing over. Again, and again behind his sockets like some sick movie, and he just can’t shake it. 

He can’t stop feeling Gaster hands on him, still flinches when he sees Sans’s father. Still feels the guard’s hands on him, he cringes when anyone brushes his body unexpectedly.

Sometimes he cries, usually at night, when he’s trying to fall asleep, and he just can’t figure out why. Stress probably, phantom pain maybe. The gut-wrenching fear that this is all a dream, that he wasn’t saved and was going to wake up back in hell.

It was probably why Sloan wanted him to go to therapy. Every time he was on his own, he couldn’t get the scenes of what happened in that castle out of his skull, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He isn’t even really sure where Nightmare and Sloan are now, usually one of them were always near by to haul him out of his spiralling thoughts before he got in too deep.

There’s a small noise near the door of the living room, one that makes Sin flinch back, twisting on the couch with fear in his soul and panic in his sockets. He lifted his control hand, magic sparking weakly at his fingers, only for him to freeze at the sight if three little girls clumped near the entrance.

Dropping his hand, Sin takes deep, panicked gulps of air to sooth his racing soul and tries desperately to blink his tears away as Frisk, Hope and Mercy all stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. When the girls had come home, he had been utterly terrified that he would have reacted to Frisk, would have been horrified to equate this child to the horror back home.

Frisk stared up at him with a patient expression, her tiny mouth pulled into a worried frown that was kin to her sisters, and Sin didn’t fear her. This wasn’t Fuckface, this was Frisk. _His_ Frisk more so then the one from his world had ever been. This little girl was one of his people, one of his kids who thought he was cool as hell.

Or, had, before he had been taken and left broken.

Scrambling to sit up, Sin wipes at his sockets and tries to get his hands to stop shaking. He clears his throat, and offers a weak grin, “Heya kiddos. What are. What are you up to?”

The girls share a look, far too wise for their ages, scared from their trips underground one way or another.

It’s Mercy, fierce little Mercy from Underfell, the girl that had been taught how to survive by Edge and Red, that puts her shoulders back and puffs her chest out bravely, “Sin, are you okay?”

He clears his throat again and offers them the weakest grin he can manage, “Yeah. I’m good kiddo.”

The three share a knowing look again, and Hope, who had been protected by Wine and Coffee speaks with a soft, hesitant voice, “You’re crying Sin.” She itches at her arm before she tells him, “You know, it’s okay to cry.”

Fear creeps into his soul, and the tears won’t stop falling, “It’s fine guys. Why.” He clears his throat again, “Why don’t you go play Mario?”

They frown at him in that eery, Frisk way, soft and kind and so full of worry. Frisk takes a careful step forward, keen, sharp eyes watching his reaction. Looking, he realizes, for any indication he was afraid, and part of him eases at that.

This is Frisk, his Frisk, his kiddo, he was her cool big brother. His Frisk, who had been trained by her vicious big sister and their equally as protective Den. Trained to _watch_. Trained to watch for fear and weakness.

It’s ingrained in the young mage, even if she doesn’t use it for anything besides making sure those around her are comfortable.

She takes another step forward before she pulls herself up next to him, careful not to touch. From the door, Mercy and Hope freeze, watching her carefully as she lifts her hands to speak with him.

 _‘It’s okay Sin.’_ She starts slowly, making sure he can follow along, _‘You’re safe now.’_

He gives her another watery chuckle and tries to wipe the tears away. His head is throbbing, and his face hurts where it’s bruised, and he’s sure he looks like shit. Nothing about him says _suave_ right now, and he’s glad that Sloan isn’t here to see him sink this low.

“I’m fine Frisk.” He tries again, but his voice is still small.

Frisk frowns at him, but doesn’t back down, _‘It’s okay Sin.’_ She pauses and frowns down at her knees, and when she signs again, her hands are slow to be as clear as possible, _‘Sans was a lot like you coming to the surface. Scared. Cried. Hated being touched. It’s okay Sin. It took him a long time to be okay too, and Lili took him to therapy.’_

Sin almost rolls his eye lights, this whole family man.

Her next words make him freeze, _‘I’m not supposed to know, but it happened to Sans too.’_ His sockets widened and when he speaks, his words are slow.

“What do you mean?”

Frisk frowns, _‘The buns talk a lot. They gossip. One of Bobby’s younger cousins told me.’_ She pauses and looks sad, _‘I know Sans never wanted me to know. I don’t think what happened to him was as bad or long as what happened to you.’_

“I don’t think it works like that kid.” He tells her weakly, wobbly yellow eye lights glancing to Hope and Mercy’s fearful, confused faces.

Frisk nods, _‘No. One’s suffering doesn’t eclipse another. But you’re a lot like he was.’_

Sin stares at her, body trembling as another tear slips down his bruised cheek.

_‘You’re okay Sin. We’re here for you too. We won’t let anything happened to you.’_

It makes him laugh, almost hysterically. He didn’t think she meant the royal ‘we’, but as in the three little girls who came to check up on him. Three little pacifists would keep him safe.

It would have been hilarious if not for the ridiculousness of it all, and that hot, fearful heat from his chest lessens. He’s not alone, he had friends and people, and three time traveling kids with a terrifying power.

“Thanks Frisk.” And if his words are a little waterier then usual, no one says a thing.

Frisk gives him a grin, bright and innocent, _‘Can we hug you Sin?’_

Reaching up to his socket, he rubs at it with the sleeve of his sweater, “Sure kiddo. If you want.” Before the words leave his teeth, before the nasty brain weasels tell him he’s too dirty and pathetic for hugs, Frisk had plastered herself against his side. She’s curled tightly into him, her tiny hands gripping onto his with the strength of a child.

He swallows the almost sob, and Hope and Mercy takes that as their que to join in the cuddle pile as well. They both rush up, Mercy pressing herself into the space on his other side, while Hope climbed into his lap, and they all curled in around him.

“Thanks.” He manages to wheeze out, drawing nods from all of them.

“You’re welcome Sin.” Hope says quietly from his lap, snuggling into him.

“It’s okay Sin.” Mercy adds, just as surprisingly cuddly as the other two, “Everyone gets scared sometimes. Even Edge and Red.”

Sin can only imagine what those two are afraid of, knows they came from a dark, shitty world full of dark, shitty people. It was no joke when they said the only good thing to come out of Underfell was Mercy.

He sinks into the couch with the girls, his super cool little sisters, and tries not to feel so terrible about himself. After all, if they thought he was worth something, then maybe he was.

Kids had a sense of these things, he thought, and fuck, maybe things would get better.

-

Sitting with his back against the couch, under a blanket, Sin isn’t sure how he had gotten here. Not just from that morning, but in his life in general. This was too nice, too good for someone like him and he tries not to feel guilty for enjoying this. He tries not to feel things when he thinks that his brother should be here with him.

Papyrus had deserved to live, and he would have loved it here.

Felix shifts under the blanket fort he had created, earning a hiss from Mercy to hold still, and it makes Sin grin a little to see the powerful battle mage being cowed by a tiny girl.

He had come looking for the kids to see if they wanted to play Mario Party with Coffee, frowning when he found them all clustered around Sin, who was still looking vulnerable and shattered. It must have triggered some kind of instinct in him, because the next thing Sin knew Felix was making what he called a blanket fort, which was more like a blanket fortress, complete with a door and makeshift walls of dowel.

Okay sure, Sin may have been the cool big brother, but Felix was a pretty close second.

They had all piled inside, sitting on the fluffy pillows and more blankets while Felix had brough a bag of nail polish, a deck of cards and tea to complete the ‘old lady tea party extravaganza’ as he had called it.

They had clustered in around Sin, and well, it was nice. Nice to not be alone in his own head and relax around people who cared. These were his people, and they cared about him.

It was weird to have people now, people who actually gave a damn.

People who walked into hell willingly for him.

Maggie stretched and yawned behind Felix, rolling over onto her back to sleep with her legs splayed above her like a dead bug. Felix grunted when the hell hound kicked him when she rolled but didn’t move as Mercy carefully painted his nails.

Sin watched her little face scrunched with concentration, her tongue peeked out as she put the gloss over his nail carefully, four of his fingernails had been painted black with his ring fingers a bright pink.

“I thought boys weren’t aloud to paint their nails.” Hope told Felix quietly, her tiny hand carefully perched on Coffee’s knee as he painted her nails with the same bright pink that Felix had, her ring fingers a glossy black.

Felix’s dark eyes lift to give her a sideways look, and briefly, there’s sadness that crosses his face. It’s gone before the girls can see it, but Sin had.

“Well,” he starts as Mercy finishes his nails and she looks up at him too, paying close attention to what he was about to tell them, “There’s no good reason why boys can’t wear makeup. If they want too, they should.”

“Oh.” Hope pauses, her brow furrowing, “My parents used to say that boys who wear makeup are weird, and girls couldn’t play sports.” Sin goes ramrod straight and dark gold magic swells in Felix’s eyes at the bullshit she’d been taught, “But Red says my parents are assholes and I shouldn’t listen to them.”

Felix blinks at her and shares a quick look with Sin, “Red’s right.” He affirms, looking back to Sin, “Hey, do you think Nightmare would let us-“

“No.” Sin is quick to cut him off, amused that he was even going to ask, delighted that he did, “Red already asked that question.” _~~They aren’t allowed to break the legs of the girl’s awful parents.~~_ Is what he doesn’t say, doesn’t need to upset them unnecessarily.

It makes Sin feel good about himself that Felix included him, and between the sweet tea, the blanket fort and that, Sin is starting to feel better.

Rolling his eyes, Felix huffs a sigh, “Fine, I guess.” He looks to Hope with a crooked grin, “Listen kiddo, I look amazing in glam makeup, and no one will tell me different.”

It makes Sin grin, feeling soft and warm inside, relaxed and he doesn’t doubt for a second that Felix would punch the asshole who told him he couldn’t do what he wanted with his own body. In all honesty, Felix probably wouldn’t even break nail when he did it.

Felix blows on his drying nails, nodding with a grin to Mercy, “Good job Mercy, they look great.”

Mercy goes red and grins up at him with pride at the compliment.

“So.” Hope says slowly, blowing on her own nails as she mimics Felix, and turning to face him, “Does that mean I could do what I want too?”

Felix narrows his eyes on her, glances again to Sin before he slowly answers, “To a degree. Yes.”

“So. I could play sports?” Something twists in Sin’s soul at that, and Felix’s face crumples a little.

Coffee slumps, clawed hands knotting togeather and his long sleeve t-shirt says _sad dude._

“Yeah. If you want to play sports, we can sign you up for something.” Felix tells her quietly, realizing that no one had actually told her she could. Her face lights up with delight, and it makes both Sin and Felix’s souls twist.

“Like soccer?” she asks, excited and hopeful.

“Sure Hope. I can take a look at soccer leagues in the area.” He tells her quietly, knows which ones that don’t have games outside of their territory so Wine and Coffee could go see her play.

Sin relaxes against he back of the couch, the one that was being used as a wall for the fort and feels something soften inside his chest. In the fort, the girls were finishing panting their nails, and their conversation went on to other things.

They wondered if they could paint Coffee’s claws and Sin’s blunt phalange and make it look cool. Including him again, and Sin doesn’t mind as a wave of exhaustion washes over him. He’s safe here, included, and fuck, maybe he can take a nap while Felix teaches them how to play poker.

The door to the fort suddenly opens, but neither Sin nor Felix react, not in the compound. Only family would be here, and no one is going to hurt them.

Sloan grins when she sees them clustered inside, her intelligent eyes glancing to Sin, to Felix and to Coffee, and Sin can see her figure out that he was probably the one who needed this more then the kids without having to ask.

“Having fun?” she asks as she crawls inside, pausing to scratch at Maggie’s ears before she sat next to Sin. He sighs softly when their arms brush, and he instantly leaned into her side. There’s movement at the door of the fort, someone hesitating before Nightmare slipped inside with a sigh, looking annoyed at them all but settles next to Sin quietly, and closes his sockets.

His cool body is a firm at Sin’s other side, and he relaxes between them both with a sigh. This is alright, this’ll be okay.

“Felix painted our nails!” Mercy tells her happily as she, Hope and Frisk lift their hands to show off their colors.

Sloan grinned at them, her hand reaching out to take Sin’s, “Did he now?”

The girls nod as Felix slides his arm around Coffee with a wide, toothy grin, “Sure did sis. ‘Fee helped me too.” Coffee’s skull lit up with a yellow blush that he tried to hide in his thin hood, “And Mercy painted my nails.” He wriggled his fingers at Sloan and Nightmare, earning a snort from the corrupted monster.

It made Felix brighten, with a smirk, “We’re trying to figure out how best to paint Sin and ‘Fee’s phalange.” He informed them brightly. 

Sloan nodded, looking terribly amused, “Of course.” He told them softly, her eyes darting to Maggie, “And I take it you’re not sending the hounds home?” 

Felix snorted, “Nope. Fuck the coven leaders, I’m keeping my pack home.”

It makes Sloan’s grin widen, “Well. In that case, you can paint Nightmare’s nails too. Keep in mind his soul is patient, and his magic is azure.”

Nightmare’s socket snaps open even as Felix grins, “Sure Sloan, I wouldn’t dream of not coordinating color scheme.”

She smirks at her brother, “Good. At least I taught you the importance of color coordinating.”

“You’re not paining my nails.” Nightmare tells them immediately, earning a huff and eye roll form Felix.

“Don’t be a buzz kill Nights, get over here.”

“No.”

Sin grins, is soothed by hearing Felix and Nightmare playfully argue over something as trivial as painting his nails. He let’s their voices wash over him, settling the last of his anxiety and Sin enjoys sitting between Sloan and Nightmare.

It’s not until the others are all immersed in their silly argument, in which Felix was certain Nightmare didn’t know how to have fun, does Sloan leans over closer to him so that her mouth was closer to his acoustic meatus, her lips brushing against the bruised bone, “Are you okay?”

Sin fails to fight the shiver down his spine from her warm breath, and he gives the hand he’s holding a little squeeze. He thinks about lying, deny that he was anything but okay, but that somehow feels like a betrayal. After all they had done for him, the least he could do was be honest.

He shakes his head no, “Wasn’t feeling so great. The girls came to cheer me up.” Sloan nods, her face carefully neutral. She wasn’t going to push him into talking or anything that would make him uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to chat about himself yet, so he’s quick to deviate the conversation to someone else, “What happened to Sans?”

Sloan goes still and cyan magic fills her eyes briefly with the same rage she had when she marched into his world before they soften back into beautiful brown. She glances to the girls, her face serious and grim, “I’ll tell you later, when there aren’t so many ears.”

He nods, feeling tired and his words rough, “Frisk knows.” That makes her freeze again, and he swears he can feel her hold her breath, “The buns told her, apparently.”

Sloan curses and he peels his sockets open to see the fury briefly on her face, “I’ll tell Lilith.” She breaths out slowly, only this time the magic doesn’t fade, “I’ll let her deal with that one.”

Sin nods and settles back against Sloan. What ever happened to Sans, he had it handled, and Lilith would handle the buns. Still, he wonders, “Are there parallels, between Sans and I?” Frisk had more then hinted, but he still wonders.

Nightmare is still arguing with Felix and hasn’t caught his words.

Sloan sighs, “Yes.” And she does sound angry, only not at him, “But Lilith was able to get to him much sooner then we were able to get to you.”

Sin nods again, still feeling raw and uncertain, “He seems to be doing okay.” And he does. Sin wouldn’t have guessed that Sans had gone through anything like he had, guessed that he lived a pretty cushy life, all things considering. Or well, Sin had assumed, before he saw his fucking LV. 

Sloan nods, “Yeah, he still has bad days.” And, yeah, who didn’t, “But therapy helps him a lot.”

That gives Sin pause. Although the mages have never forced this issue, they _all_ agreed that therapy was a good thing, and it helped them. It was helping Sans as well, apparently.

Maybe it would help Sin too. Sure, he was feeling okay now but did he really want to feel like crap all his life?

“So. I guess it’s really helped huh?” he asks her nonchalantly, and he can’t bare to see her expression. He’s quick to close his sockets, and pretend he’s not asking her that, squeezing her hand.

Sloan squeezes his hand back, her thumb brushing softly at his bruised knuckles, “It has.” She agreed quietly.

Sin nodded, and wills the tears that are threatening to dampen his sockets away, “So.” He pauses to clear his throat quietly, “So do you think it would help me?”

Sloan pauses, tilting her head carefully, her words soft, “I think so.” She carefully pressed her mouth to a bruise on his skull softly in a delicate kiss, “It’s helped all of us.” She shrugs gently as to not disturb him, “Lilith is scheduling a few extra appointments for herself this month, just to help manage her own emotions.”

That makes Sin pause, and he feels a little better if anything. Lilith is a force to be reckoned with, a creature with which one did not fuck, and if _she_ had therapy, it had to mean something.

Right?

Sin takes a shaky breath, “Would you. Could.” He glanced to Nightmare who was grinning widely at Felix as they bickered, and Sin softened at that wide smirk. Sin would put good money on the fact Nightmare doesn’t know he’s doing it, and he looks good with it, “Would you come with me?

When Sloan smiles, Sin thinks that his soul will catch fire with the warmth in it. It makes him feel soft inside, safe, like not even his world could touch him without repercussion. It couldn’t, to be fair, and the mages made sure everyone knew it too.

“Of course I will Sin. I’ll go with you as long as you want me to.” She promises softly, and it makes him feel better.

He gives a little nod, “Thanks Sloan.” And presses into her side.

“Would you like me to schedule you an appointment with Dr. Tracy?” her voice is unjudgmental and soft, leaving it up to him.

Sin nods against her shoulder, and Sloan is careful to press her cheek to the top of his skull, “All right.” Her voice is soft enough that the others can’t hear. 

Sin feels a little better, like maybe things will be okay. That _he’s_ going to be okay, or at least is on the right track, “Thanks Sloan.”

She brushes another sweet kiss along his skull, and cuddles into his side, murmuring softly against his bones, “You’re welcome sweetheart.” 

Sin sighs quietly, feeling safe and he relaxes against her. He doesn’t want to think about what therapy is going to entail and how much its going to suck to start. Right now, he’d rather be held by the women he likes, and pretend he’s okay for a bit.

He takes what comfort he can and relaxes. He starts to drift off, leaning heavier into Sloan, allowing her to inch him downward to lay him down, his head nestled safely in her lap. Her fingers are careful on his skull, tracing his coronal suture, lulling him into sleep. His fingers curled lightly into the fabric of her shorts when he murmurs with slurring words, “I like you.”

Sloan chuckles softly, the voices of the others wash over him, and he almost misses her quietly telling him, “I like you too.” And Sin slips into sleep.

-

Sitting curled on the back steps, with his long legs pulled up tightly to his chest, trying to make himself comically small, Sugar stares out into the back yard and to the lake. It’s the place that the whole version of his brother, the one who called dibs on the name ‘Sans’ has said is the best place to sit and think.

Honestly, Sugar needed someplace quiet to think for a bit. Someplace where he knew his brother would be safe so that Sugar could have the chance to ponder and consider things. Really take the time to take a problem out of its box, and really examine it like a jeweler looking at a quality stone.

He couldn’t do that if he were worried about Gore, and the last time Sugar saw his brother, he and Crow had that sly looks on their faces like he didn’t know what they were up to.

Sugar may not…be alright anymore, but he wasn’t stupid. Yeah, sure, he liked to hoard food, and Lola was kind enough to pretend she didn’t notice him sneaking non-perishables from the pantry to hide in his room, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew what that look meant, and what it meant when his brother slipped quietly up the stairs with Crow. He knew they were going to ‘bump uglies’ and thought they were being discreet about it.

Either way, it meant Sugar could sit quietly and know his brother was safe for now, he was distracted and not going any where. He knew that Gore wasn’t going on some stupid mission where he might not come back, all because Nightmare promised to keep Sugar safe if anything happened to him.

Sugar had hated it as much as he hated what their world became. He hated what happened to Undyne, his Undyne. He hated what happened to Grillby. He hated what happened to Alphys. He hated what they did to Sans, how they broke his brother.

He doesn’t feel bad for what happened to them, they brought in on themselves for what they did to Sans, but he mourns who they could have been.

He hates the child that abandoned them and left their world to rot.

Part of him misses them, misses the friendship they could have had. Mourns what they could have all been, and it’s so _hard_ to see them all okay here.

Fiddling with the small case that holds his new glasses, Sugar squints at the black box, running his scared and damage phalange over the false leather and frowns. Still, despite how it hurt, he likes it here. Likes the mages and their weird way of accepting them all so readily.

Even when it hurts, and it hurts, _so much_. It hurts to see Undyne whole and okay, like in his hazy dreams when they were still friends. It hurts to see his brother soft and fucking happy. It hurts to think about Grillby, and how this version of him probably wasn’t melting slowly, his own magic turned against him.

It hurts to see what their world could have been, had the child come back.

With a small sigh, Sugar opens the box and carefully pulls out the new glasses, the arms shimmering in Fae magic. When he puts them on, the magic warms and adheres to his skull gently, nearly unnoticeable save for a pleasant, temporary buzz of positive intent and his vision clears.

The backyard is wide, the forest around them bright green and the lake is crystal clear, fed from the waterfalls from the mountain. It brings tears to Sugar’s sockets, and he almost takes his glasses off, because that too, hurts. 

It hurts that, his friends would never make it here. Would never be okay here. They would never cope when Sugar and Gore barely could.

The sun is high, and it’s getting hotter, and the world around them is so beautiful despite the horror. It’s so pretty here even when his own world burned.

He doesn’t know how the brothers from the Fell worlds cope so well, but all of them seemed to roll with this new world better then he did. Sugar wonders, not for the first time, if they’re simply better liars. After all, one doesn’t survive in Underfell or Swapfell if they couldn’t lie well.

Or, at least, had the fire power to backup their attitude.

The door behind him opens, and Sugar flinches at the sound as hears the door slide shut. Heavy footsteps bring Papyrus to sit next to Sugar, the whole version of himself sighing deeply and stretching his legs out in front of him as he sat on the stoop next to him.

Hesitant, fearful sockets kept glancing to Papyrus, but he’s smiling out to the yard brightly, the hot sun blocked by the tin roof of the porch. Slowly, with his shoulders hunched up around his skull, Sugar curled into himself, and felt his soul twist with growing anxiety.

“Are you alright Sugary-me?” Papyrus asked suddenly, his voice unusually soft, his smile no less bright.

Sugar jumped at the question and frowned. No one ever asked him if he was okay, he wasn’t the one who was hurt, he was always the one who was so well protected, the one the others got hurt for, “Of course.” His voice is rough with disuse, and he immediately looks down.

He doesn’t deserve to look upon this perfect, whole, version of himself, “Shouldn’t you be asking Sin that?”

Papyrus shrugs and doesn’t look at all sorry, “Perhaps, but I’m asking you.” He finally looks at him, all endless cheer and bright smiles, “You seem less then happy. And yes, Sin is _supremely_ traumatized, but you’re not okay either.”

Sugar looked up at the plainly spoken words that were only softened by the fact it was Papyrus who spoke them. Sugar couldn’t find the words to reject that notion, and allowed Papyrus to continue, “And, I mean, if there is one thing I am certain of since living with the mages, it’s no one’s trauma trumps another. It’s all bad. So, are you okay Sugar?”

Its something that Sugar had never considered before, never even had thoughts of, and his small eyes glances off to the side in thought, “I, ah.” He pauses, and thinks how he’s feeling, “I’m afraid.” He admits quietly, his massive hand knotting togeather.

Papyrus nods patently, like he wasn’t expecting anything less, “Ah yes. I do understand, in a way. The surface is big and scary, and my family is loud and brash.” He nods, doesn’t hesitate to speak truths that others might dance around, “They can sometimes be a lot to take in.” Papyrus turns to look at him, head tilting as he examines Sugar, his sockets gleaming with intelligence that others often forgot he had in his exuberance, “But what are you afraid of?” 

Pausing, Sugar opens his mouth before he closes it slowly with a wince. His mouth ached, and his teeth hurt, and he saw no point in lying to Papyrus, “I’m afraid of losing all this.” He admitted quietly, “I’m afraid of losing this food supply for San…Gore and I. I’m afraid that you will make us leave, or that something will happen that will send Gore back to our world all by himself.”

His voice drops impossibly lower, and he fiddles with his glasses case, “I’m afraid what happened to Sin, will happen to Gore. Undyne was the one who smashed his skull in like a rotten pumpkin. I would not put it past her to finish the job, if he tumbled back home.”

Papyrus nods, his frown deep and sad, “Yes, Undyne can be very passionate about anything she latches onto.” He shifts with uncertainty, “My Undyne is quite distraught about this as well. She never thought she would be capable of extracting body parts, but here we are.” He pauses again, and sighs, “My Undyne isn’t like yours. She’s worried too, worried what will happen if any of you end up back home.”

Papyrus suddenly brightens, and when turns back to Sugar, there’s a confident smile spreading across his mouth, “But you shouldn’t worry so much Sugary-me.” The brightness in his tone makes Sugar look at him with a nervous frown, “I know, for a _fact_ , that if that ever happened, the Den would fight like hell to bring you home. None of them have kicked their homicidal tendencies, not that they’ve ever _tried,_ but they will use that murder skill to protect you.” 

Sugar looks down and away, unable to hold Papyrus’s gaze that is suddenly in crystal clear clarity, “Do you think they would care enough about us to go get us?”

“They cared enough about Sin,” Papyrus told him firmly, “to go after him. They didn’t draw first blood, but they drew the last.”

“Yes but,” and Sugar is so desperate to cling to the darkness, its familiar and safe, even if it hurts, “Sloan likes Sin.” Probably liked him a little more then just like, “Of course she went after him.”

Papyrus’s hand lands on his broad shoulder, gentle but firm, makes Sugar jerk, flinch away as if he were going to be struck. Papyrus doesn’t look offended, his face painfully gentle, his smile a kind of genuine that isn’t seen in Sugar’s world anymore, “Sugary-me, we like you as well.” His smile stays, and slowly, Papyrus shakes his head no, “We will not allow anyone to harm you either.” Papyrus pauses, seems to mull something over, and seems to decide against something.

He beams at Sugar, his smile warm and wide, “We’re your friends.” He declared and it makes something vulnerable throb in Sugar’s soul. Something warm that had been locked away for a long, long time, “And friends take care of each other. We’d never let anything bad happen to you and your brother. You’re safe here.”

It’s bold words, the kind of words that Nightmare would declare while spitting in the face of the Angel, but coming from Papyrus, they seem genuine, real. Like the mages would wage war against all their worlds, like they would win.

It was like they had the audacity to dare the universe to try them.

It makes Sugar feel like he had when Nightmare first appeared in their world, and his dark, sweet promises had been enough to lure Gore away from their universe. The promise of Sugar’s protection too great a prize to deny, the offer of a constant food supply had sealed the deal.

This felt different. This felt…good. Like how Sugar felt before all this, back when his name had been Papyrus.

“Thank you, Papyrus.” He told him softly, feeling a little better.

“You’re welcome Sugary-me.” Papyrus patted his shoulder before he settled back down beside him to watch the lazy day roll by. It makes Sugar feel…not so terrible about himself.

“I like your glasses.” Papyrus tells him suddenly with a grin, “You picked a stylish pair, but you did naturally. Us Papri have an excellent taste.”

Sugar feels a blush scaled his face, and slowly, ever so slowly, he unfurls his massive body. It’s not often that he sits up straight, his size brought unnecessary attention. Better to stay low, curl tight and not draw attention. Yet, when Sugar did, he easily towered over both the Den and the Crew, taller even then Ryder at nearly seven and a half staggering feet.

Now, Sugar doesn’t feel so self conscious, and he straightens up slowly. He’s feels good, better then he had in a long time, “Thank you!” he suddenly blurts, “I like them too! I can see so well now, nyeh heh!” 

When Papyrus grins at him, Sugar gives him a grin back, and he starts to feel comfortable when he suddenly says, “I’ve thought about it, and I want to fix my teeth!” he tells Papyrus brightly, making his grin widen, “Do you think Lola would come with me? It’s a little scary to have someone poking at my mouth after what Undyne did.”

That makes the grin slide slowly from Papyrus’s face, and orange swell in his socket. That’s what tips Sugar off that he may have said something that he shouldn’t have. He instantly curls back down, looking ashamed and quiet, “Sorry.” He says quickly, “I forget sometimes that my world is bad.”

Taking a breath, Papyrus’s hand is back on his shoulder, and the anger is gone from his face. The gentle grin is back, and when he speaks it’s with honesty, “Just because you had a bad start, does not make you bad. What your Undyne did was wrong. She shouldn’t have hurt you or Gore, but that doesn’t make _you_ a bad person.” Papyrus looks away briefly and frowns, looking sad, “I’ve met bad people. The people in Sin’s world were bad people.” He looks back to Sugar, “And you are not bad people Sugary-me.”

Sugar unfurls a little more again, “Really?”

Papyrus nods, looking sure and confident, “I am sure.” And he sounds it, “So. Screw your Undyne, I’ll share mine with you. Surely, someone as amazing as her, can be your buddy too!”

Sugar’s sockets widened, “Do you think so! Would she want to be my buddy?”

Papyrus made a _pfft_ sound, and how he did it, Sugar isn’t sure, but his smile is bright, “Of course she will.” It’s said with such confidence that it makes Sugar smile and believe him.

The lazy afternoon stretches on, the sun getting higher and the day warmer.

The door behind them opens, and Sugar watches Papyrus look behind them, and watches his face brighten when he sees his mate, “Ah, my succulent suitor, I was wondering where you were!”

Ryder’s scared face goes bright red at his date mate’s words as Papyrus grins brightly at him.

Undyne follows him outside with a bright laugh, clapping Ryder hard enough on the shoulder that his knees almost buckled before she carefully sat next to Sugar, her words amused, “Still trying to do the alphabet of endearments each day?”

Papyrus looks delighted when Ryder sinks down next to him, curling into his side, “Of course, why would I not want to serenade my tremendous teddy bear and ensure that he knows how adored he is?” 

Ryder cleared his throat, his blush stretching from his hair line down to his throat while Undyne and Sugar grinned, “How’s your day going Paps?” he asked, brushing a soft kiss to Papyrus’s teeth.

Sugar watches with a grin at how happy Papyrus was snuggling into Ryder’s side, relaxes when he doesn’t automatically want to flee from Undyne, and he settles between them.

Papyrus brightens, his smile wide and real, “Wonderful! Sugar was just telling me how he has thought about it, and he wants to get his teeth fixed.”

Sugar feels magic crawling at his bones, and his soul feel itchy as Undyne and Ryder turn their attention to him, but their smiles put him at ease. Undyne even nudges him gently, much, much softer then she had clapped Ryder’s shoulder, and her toothy grin is bright, “That’s great Sug.” Even her voice is softer when she spoke to him.

It makes Sugar grin at her, something in his soul that had been stiff and stuck, like an ungreased gear, loosened when she smiled at him, “Thanks Undyne.” His voice is small, but she looks so delighted by his words, that he can speak her name without trembling.

The midmorning inches towards the afternoon, and Sugar feels _better_. Better about himself, and his position in the mage’s world. They like him, if Papyrus were to be believed, and things felt like they would be okay.

Undyne suddenly looked at her watch and sighed, “Ah, shoot. Looks like it’s almost lunch time.” Ryder suddenly looks up alarmed, “Guess I better go start lunch.” 

The smile that Papyrus had from their delightful chat slips a little, and Ryder sits up a little straighter, “Do you want me to make lunch?” he asks suddenly, offering her a bright grin, the scar on his face twisting and pulling along his skin.

Undyne flapped a hand at him, “Nah I got it Ry.”

Pushing herself to stand, Undyne stretches and heads inside, the three watching her go with varying degrees of dismay, none moving until the sliding glass door clicks shut.

“Well.” Papyrus said suddenly, ignoring the horror on Ryder’s face, “We need to leave.”

Confusion curled in Sugar’s soul as Ryder stood with a nod, “Yup.”

He reached a hand down to help Papyrus to his feet before reaching a hand to help Sugar. He blinks as he takes Ryder’s hand, “Why do we need to leave?” he asked softly, brows furrowing and for a moment he worries he did something wrong.

Ryder and Papyrus share a look before their eyes find the ground. Papyrus taps his index phalange togeather, before he quietly admits, “As much as I love Undyne, and she is amazing at a good many things, cooking is not one of them.” 

He looks back up quickly when Ryder winces, and for a moment, Sugar thinks its to defend her, “Now. After spending time cooking with Lola and Ryder, I understand where she went wrong. She does not, and no matter how many times we’ve shown her, it does no good. You can’t teach someone who doesn’t want to learn.”

“Oh.” Sugar’s voice is small, and his brow furrow depends, “What do we do then?”

“Tactical retreat.” Ryder tells him solemnly, pulling his cell phone to text the other mages the warning. After that, they were all on their own, “There’s a good restaurant in town, we can get lunch there.”

Sugar hesitates, his large fingers digging into the glasses case, “But. What about our brothers?”

Papyrus reaches for him, gently taking his forearm, solum and serious, “They made their choice.” He shakes his head, and from the living room window he can see Felix getting the girls up and out of their fort with Sloan, carrying a kid under each arm as he nearly _bolts_ for the front door. He’s heading for the garage, Sloan and the others hot on his tail, “Now, I’m not saying you have to come with us. But if you would prefer to not eat burnt macaroni, we need to go.” 

Sugar hesitates only a moment longer, so Ryder chimes in, “Sloan had to put fire resistant charms on the kitchen and the stove so she wouldn’t burn the compound down. The fire literally can not get off the stove.” Ryder sighs, running a hand through his short blond hair, “There’s a reason we _had_ to put the charms there.”

Sugar blinks at them, realizes they aren’t leaving him here to _starve,_ or worse, be forced to eat something awful, “Could we bring Gore back food?”

Both Ryder and Papyrus nod, and Sugar smiles. He follows them along quickly, taking the long way around the compound to the garage. He grins when he sees Sloan getting Sin, Nightmare and Frisk into her Jeep, while Felix is doing the same with Coffee, Hope and Mercy.

They didn’t leave him behind, they thought he was important enough to _remember._ It made Sugar feel good, wanted. Like maybe they _were_ his friends.

Ryder got him into his Jeep, Sugar’s knees pulled up high to his chest as he squished himself inside with a grin and is excited to see the city. Excited to be included with his new friends.

-

Sitting at the kitchen table, Crow feels his non-existent stomach churn with utter disgust at what’s on his plate. Next to him, even Gore is hesitating to eat the _slop_ that Undyne had dared call food that could somehow be both piping hot and ice cold in the middle.

He doesn’t get it, not even a little bit. Even his own brother hadn’t been this terrible at cooking, before, you know, he slaughtered him, and this is just beyond bad.

Something stirs in his soul, like something waking up before it was soothed back into sleep.

Crow is quick to shake the thought away, glancing to Gore’s pouting, disappointed face, and he frowns. Gore looks like he’s going to cry staring at was once food in a mixture of honest grief at the wasted food and pure disappointment.

Crow isn’t sure which is worse, but something lurches in his cold, dead soul. Some kind of soft, muted emotion that somehow managed to survive his purge of feelings when he burned down his world.

He didn’t like that sad, hurt look on Gore’s face. Crow had promised that he’d keep Gore and Sugar safe, and knew he could take it, could take the pain; Crow could embrace it, so Gore wouldn’t have to.

The sheer disappointment on Gore’s face over this sad excuse of a lunch almost makes Crow want to gut her. The tears in his sockets almost make Crow do it, and only Nightmare’s disappointment in him stops Crow from ripping Undyne’s spine out.

She huffs, looking out to the porch for the eighth time, looking for Papyrus and Sugar, who have clearly abandoned them to their fates for greener pastures, looking more annoyed then anything else, “The hell did they all go?”

Clearly, they’ve all fled while Gore and Crow were boning, _~~heh, bones, he’ll have to tell that to Gore later,~~_ and left them to this cruel fate.

It’s the feeling of cold, displaced air that draw Crow’s sockets up to the space between them as Sans steps quietly from the void. Crow feels his brow raise at his _attire_ , yet, who was he to say what Sans was wearing was ridiculous?

Dark sunglasses were perched carefully on top of his skull, sockets narrowed in careful concentration like he’s trying really hard not to get caught. His flip flops are loose on his feet and his silly blue Hawaiian shirt is open and loose over his upper body, and Crow had no idea why the fuck he’s wearing it.

Moving slowly, Sans reaches for their plates, acting like if he moves too quick, Undyne will turn around and spot them. Gore’s sockets widen in horror as Sans reaches for his plate, and Crow can see the conflict; someone is taking his food, _ ~~bad!,~~_ but objectively, it might kill them if they eat it, so getting rid of it is a bonus, _~~good!~~_

It’s a dangerous move, but Crow has already figured out this is a rescue mission and that was a calculated risk.

Crow is still and tense, half afraid that Gore will bite Sans’s fingers clean off as he quietly reaches for their plates and tosses them both over his shoulder without flinching. Gore doesn’t react, controls himself enough not to move at the slop and plates both are sacrificed to the void, thrown away in a smooth motion.

_~~Silent, bright pride washes over Crow. Gore hadn’t reacted in anyway at Sans taking food away from him, a step in the right direction. Whether that was because Gore was feeling good here and trusting these people, or because he was confident in his food supply, Crow wasn’t sure.~~ _

_~~And really, it didn’t matter.~~ _

Undyne still hasn’t turned around as Sans reaches for their elbows, gripping hard onto their sweaters and takes a step back into the void.

It’s always weird to hitch a ride on someone else’s trip through the void. It’s like the world has been tipped a little sideways, and he’s been shaken up like a pop bottle. It’s sort of like being on a roller coaster after it hits the corkscrew, and your disoriented for those few brief moments after you go through it.

At least when Sans steps through the void, it’s a smooth ride and not the tornado it is when Red’s driving.

It takes time to adjust to the sun, bright and hot over head, and the hot tar of the flat roof under foot. It takes a moment to get their feet under them and find their balance, but when he does, Crow isn’t sure what to make of the scene before them.

Sans doesn’t let go until they’ve both stood up straight, but even then it doesn’t make what they’re seeing make any more sense.

A little blow up pool with light blue walls has been pumped up on the roof, deep enough that it came up to Crow’s chest, and Glass looks equal parts ridiculous and relaxed floating in the middle of it. He’s in a pair of black swim trucks and floating on a bright pink pool lounge and his dark sunglasses have had to be taped to his skull to keep them on.

Crow pauses, head tilting as he studies Glass and can’t think of a time he can remember him being so relaxed that he went topless; his body is littered in scars, deep, ugly gouges torn into his bones and his left floating rib had been so badly shattered that bright orange magic seeped trough the cracks like a glow stick.

Glass usually hid himself under heavy clothing, bulking up his size to look more intimidating and mean. Now, he looks like he’s on vacation.

With a frown, Crow lifts his sockets passed where Glass floated in his blow up pool to where Lola and Lilith have set up four tall umbrellas, under which Red and Sans have set up long lounge chairs to stretch out on.

Red looks just out of place, his heavy coat stripped off in the hot sun and replaced with a dark t-shirt and shorts, the gold of his tooth and collar glinting in the sun light, and Crow is certain he’s fallen asleep in the lounge chair. His breathing is soft and deep, his body too lax to be anything but asleep, another surprise to see Red fold so easily.

There’s an empty lounge chair that was clearly where Sans was sprawling out between Lilith and Red, a tall glass of something dark is beside the chair with a little pink umbrella tucked into the liquid.

The battle mage is between her mate and sister, but she and Lola have stretched out on their lounge chairs in the hot sun, both appearing to be enjoying soaking up the sunshine.

Both are wearing two piece bathing suits, looking completely out of place on the roof which only confuses Crow all the more; their scars are surprisingly light on their bodies, Crow had assumed they both would have been more banged up based on the stories they heard.

Yet, they both look like they’re sunbathing, each with a tall glass of what looks like iced tea with little bright umbrellas.

Sans steps between them, pointing to a little table under the umbrella with a grin, where two pitchers of what looks like iced tea is on the table, “The one on the left is non-alcoholic. The one on the right has rum.”

Both Crow and Gore blink at him, not understanding what the hell is going on as Sans steps away from them both, around the pool and Glass to stretch out on his own lounge chair.

There are empty chairs, but neither Crow nor Gore move towards one of them.

“Fuck, this mean we can order now?” Glass asks, soft and leisurely before his sharp teeth ease around his bendy straw to drink deeply from his glass.

Lola sighs, shifting on her chair, “Shouldn’t we wait for Edge, and Wine to come back?”

Lilith tilts her head towards her sister, tipping down her sunglasses to look over the rim, “They went for a walk, you think they’ll be back anytime soon?”

Glass snorts, dipping his clawed hand into the cool water of the pool, “Fucking nerds.” He grins.

Lola grins at him, all soft and amused before she shrugged, “I dunno.” She frowns and takes a sip of her own drink, “Think we should wake Rips?”

“Nah,” Glass shrugs from the pool, lazily floating in circles, “He’s still healing. Let him nap.”

“S’not like we can’t go get more when he wakes up.” Sans adds from his spot next to Lilith, sockets closed behind his sunglasses.

“What the fuck is going on?” Gore suddenly spits, drawing Crow’s equally confused sockets.

They all look at them as if somehow, _they_ were the one’s that were fucked.

“We’re having a pool party.” Glass spits at them, the unspoken _duh_ is clear in his voice.

“And with Undyne cooking, and everyone else ditching us, we’re sort of trapped here.” Lilith added with a nod, “So we might as well enjoy it.”

They both blink at her as she reaches for her phone, and gives it a little shake at them, “And we’re ordering Grillby’s. So, sit down and relax.”

Gore makes a delighted little noise that makes Crow happy to hear. His mouth waters at the idea, and he in all honesty can’t remember what Girllby’s tasted like. They share a look, mouths open into surprised O’s, and the delight in Gore’s sockets genuinely softens Crow.

“We can have Grillby’s?” Gore sounds so hopeful, so desperate, that if this is a trick, Crow will end them all.

Lilith nods, and that sooths something in Crow. This wasn’t a trick. This was a rescue mission that had been pulled off perfectly, and this was their just reward.

Something shifts in Crow’s chest as Gore sits down on one of the empty loungers, looking excited and thrilled. Glancing to Lilith, Crow is much slower to follow along, sinking into the same chair that Gore was nearly vibrating in.

The battle mage still looks tired, worn out maybe, and fuck it if Crow didn’t understand that. It’s like all her emotional bandwidth had been used up and she looks tired as fuck.

He glances to Sans, and wonders if that’s why he’s stuck close to her lately, and its adorable. Crow glances to Red and realizes that Red and Edge have been sticking close too, one of them always near. Just in case of what, Crow wasn’t sure and wasn’t convinced that they knew either. Still, that was adorable too, the nerds.

Pushing up her glasses up, Lilith starts to type something into her phone, ordering through Grillby’s app, for their lunch. Taking care of them, and ensuring they ate despite her own exhaustion.

With a grin, wide and a touch unhinged, Crow _relaxes_. Wherever Nightmare was, he’s trusted their care into the hands of these mages, and here they were, showing that the trust was well placed. That they would take care of the Crew’s even most basic needs. 

Sans had saved them from a cruel fate of awful food, and Lilith was making sure they were getting something they _liked_.

Stretching out beside Gore, Crow relaxed in the shade of the wide umbrella, and felt something unwind a little. Something that was similar to what he felt with the Crew, and decided he liked the Den.

That same hibernating thing shifted in his soul, and Crow grinned.


	23. Things'll be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sin gets a very small reprieve from his nightmare's, and Red finds out that the mage's world isn't as soft as he thought it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, this was a lot of fun to write. Not too many warnings in this one, we're still in the happy fluff/comfort post Sin trauma. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: reference to Sin's trauma, reference to Sans's trauma, reference to past abuse from a King, smoking.

Sitting in her old brown lazy boy, Sloan curls into the chair with a soft sigh and readjusts her book. The lazy boy has, over time, molded perfectly to her for maximum comfort, charmed to always be cool when she sits down and is the best place to read.

The book in her lap is another from the armory, another book of powerful spells and she hopes that something in it will give them what they need to defeat Chara.

Or, as Lilith had so eloquently put it, find a way to stab that bitch in the face.

She needs creation magic, a spell powerful enough to breath life into the dead, just as Gaster had done to himself when he stole Chara’s magic.

Frustration wells as Sloan flips the page, finding nothing that will help and it’s just like when they were trying to break into Sin’s world. She knows she’ll find something, its just going to take time.

A soft groan has Sloan lifting her eyes from her book, looking across the room to her large, soft bed. The hot midday sun is bright in the room, the wind softly blowing through the open window and toys with the long black curtains, and Sloan isn’t certain how Sin can sleep with so much light in the room.

Yet, he’s asleep, which is what Sloan is grateful for. Since he came home, sleep had been difficult for Sin and often enough his rest was plagued by night terrors. Memories of what had been done to his body played like a sick movie reel in his mind, and more then once she and Nightmare had been woken up with a sharp kick to a leg or an elbow to the ribs as Sin fought off attackers that were no longer there.

It broke Sloan’s heart to see him like that, too see him panicked and afraid, and she’d been quick to sooth him back to sleep each time. So, she didn’t bother him when he found some peaceful rest through the day and didn’t dare try to wake him from a nap if he was sleeping well. He needed it and would need it in the coming days.

Especially tomorrow, with his fist visit to Dr. Tracy and his first therapy session. Lilith had told her how hard it had been for Sans after his first one, and even though he never spoke about his sessions with the good doctor, Lilith had seen how raw he had been after the first few.

Particularly that first session, and Sloan had appreciated the heads up from her sister.

Sin looks peaceful now, curled loosely on her bed, sleeping soundly on top of her soft, green comforter, his face lax and peaceful. Still, Sloan watches him with a critical eye. She’s been tricked before, and more then once Sin had gone from sleeping peacefully to struggling with someone who was long dead in the blink of an eye. If she can stop him from circling the drain and into his darker dreams, she will.

She looks for the sighs that he’s not well, looks for the start of a coming struggle in his body and already she can see the small warnings that he could tip into nightmares.

His toes curl into his feet and his knees have been drawn up a little higher as if he’s getting ready to curl into a ball and his hands are digging into the blanket. Yet, his face is lax and his brow smooth, so Sloan knows he could still fall back asleep, if the nightmare’s let up.

Sin’s wears a pair of lose black exercise shorts, the kind that are soft against battered bones and don’t feel restricting on his body. His black t-shirt has ridden up, showing a hint of bone, his hips and spine that are as bruised as the rest of him, and Sloan shoves down her growing anger quickly.

He’s frightening perspective to emotion, picks up on anger quickly and Sloan doesn’t want Sin to mistake her anger at what was done to him for being angry at him.

Still, the dark splotches make her angry, knows that she should be seeing smooth white bones, glossy like porcelain peeking out from between his shorts and his t-shirt. His long legs should be like polished ivory and not full of molted bruising at his ankles and knees from where someone had gripping him hard enough to cause damage.

It didn’t matter that the fuckers were dead, Sin still bore the damage.

Taking a deep breath, Sloan lets it out slowly through her teeth, tucking a thick lock of hair behind her ear. She resettles into her chair with a frown, and watches Sin sleep, watches his chest move slowly up and down with each, long, slow breath.

Good, let him sleep.

In her bed next to him, Nightmare’s asleep as well, dozing surprisingly peacefully himself; sure, Nightmare had less bad dreams then Sin, less intense ones, but he had them none the less.

Nightmare tended to wake up suddenly, bolting out of bed like something wet touched him, quick to retreat and hide in the shadows where nothing could get him. Sloan had coaxed him from the darkness more then once, urging him from the shadows and into her arms.

They always went back to sleep afterwards, and she never asked what would have frightened him enough to sending him fleeing into the shadows where he was safe.

He’s sleeping well now, his gooey sweater folded neatly at the end of her bed so he could sprawl in his shorts and t-shirt, laying like a starfish on his back. Sloan grins as she watches him sleep, his chest rising and falling in the same easy rhythm of a deep sleep.

His t-shirt had drawn up as well, and glossy ebony hip bones peeking up from his shorts, and bright gold light shines where shards are still impaled into his body. That makes Sloan frown, knows that eventually she will need to pull them out, but she isn’t going to force him to let her. Skeletal monster or not, that was a sensitive area, and she could be patient until he gave her permission to touch him there.

His foot jerks in his sleep, and Sloan knows that he’s sleeping deeply enough. She knows he’s sleeping well, a sleep that’s not plagued by bad dreams. He’s loose and languid, sprawled on his back and not curled into a ball or sinking into the shadows of her room.

Good, Sloan thinks, he needs it as well, and Sloan takes a moment to watch them both sleep. She lets her heart swell with affection, lets herself feel that soft emotion and takes a moment to enjoy them both asleep in her room, in her bed.

They were safely tucked into her room, right where Sloan wanted them to be. Asleep on top the comforter because of the heat, and Sloan wonders if she’ll get to keep them both.

Her soul swells with affection, and she hopes they’ll stay. She hopes that they’ll want what she can offer them, what her Den could offer the Crew.

With a sigh, Sloan is about to go back to her book when Sin groans again, his brow furrowing and his face scrunching into pain. Frowning, Sloan closes the book to set it aside, knowing that she doesn’t have much time until Sin falls from bad dreams into a full blown nightmare as he pulls his legs a little higher up, closer to his core.

Light feet bring her to Sin just as the trembling starts and tears have barely gathered under his closed sockets. Next to him, Nightmare stirs, twitching in his sleep when he feels Sin’s aura fluctuate with pain and fear. 

Sloan delicately sits on the edge of her bed just as Sin whispers out _stop_ , and the first tear falls down his bruised cheek. He squirms against the comforter, phalange digging into the soft material and he buries his skull into the pillow he usually uses when he sleeps in Sloan’s bed.

“Sin, sweetie?” her voice is firm and loud, soft to not frighten him, “Sin, you’re okay. It’s okay, wake up.”

She gives his shoulder a little shake just as he whimpers, the small noise making Nightmare jerk awake as the feelings of distress begin to fill the room. He looks a little disoriented from being woken up from an otherwise good sleep, “Another nightmare?” he asks thickly, rubbing sleep from his socket with the back of his hand.

It’s almost adorable, would have been, had Sin not been trembling between them on the cusp of a bad dream.

“Yeah.” She tells him softly, her hand a little firmer as she gives him a rough little shake, “Sin, sweetie, wake up. You’re okay, wake up Sin.”

Nightmare sits up with a groan, stretching his spine before he turns to lightly touch Sin’s wrists, “Sin wake up.” He tells him like an order, as if that would make him wake up any faster.

Sin squirms between them, his feet digging into the bed with a whimper that makes Sloan’s soul pang in hurt for him, “Sin, baby wake up.” The term of endearment rolls off her tongue easily, and her hands are painfully gentle on his face, “Sin wake up.”

Jerking awake, Sin gasps as he flails between them, hands swiping uselessly at them with weak, uncoordinated attacks and a watery cry. Sloan and Nightmare each catch a flailing hand softly, holding their captured limb gently, and Sloan lifts his fingers to her lips in a gentle kiss.

“Easy.” She croons softly, brushing another kiss to his knuckles, feels Nightmare’s burning gaze on her as he holds Sin’s hand, “Easy Sin, your okay.”

He gasps roughly between them, sucking in air desperately, clinging to them both, sockets wide and his eye lights were small pin pricks. His voice is wobbly as he glances desperately between them both, his fingers curling tightly around their hands, “Sloan?”

She gives him a brief smile, “Hey, your okay. We’re here.”

He nods, desperate to latch onto the safety she promised and panicked, terrified eye lights go to Nightmare, but the words seem to get caught in Sin’s throat. Nightmare shifts, looking uncomfortable with it all, but still roughly says, “You’re fine. Nothing’s going to hurt you here.” Its more of a threat then a promise, but Sin nods, clinging to Nightmare.

“Let’s sit up sweetie.” Sloan gently encouraged, tenderly getting him up off his back, her hand soft as she rubbed his spine.

They move slowly, carefully with him, easing him up so his back was against the wall, and Sloan leaned forward to wipe the tears from his face.

Sin sighed softly, leaning into her touch, swallowing roughly, “Sorry.”

Nightmare shifts uncomfortably next to Sin, his sockets going down. His own voice is low and rough, “It’s fine. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Sloan grins at his gruff comfort, and Sin gives him a little watery huff, “Yeah, sure.” He mops uselessly at his face, looking miserable, “Is it always going to be this awful?”

“No.” she tells him with confidence, her hand still soft on his face, “It will get better.”

Sin snorts, leaning his cheek into her hand, his own fingers threading between Nightmare’s “How can you be sure.”

“Because Lilith,” Sloan pauses, realizes what she was about to say, about to admit, “In the war, sometimes soldiers came home a little battered after bad missions. It took them time to get their feet under them again. So, yes, I know it will get better.” Besides, they had far better resources now.

Still, it had been a long time since Sloan had found someone as hurt and violated as Sin was, regardless of their resources.

He swallows thickly, pulling his knees up to his chest to curl lightly into a ball. He works his jaw before quietly asking, “How long does it take? I’d like to just fucking sleep, or touch someone without flinching.”

Sloan gives him a patient look, “It’s barely been a week Sin, go a little easier on yourself.” And she squeezes his hand.

With a sigh he drops his face into his knees, his voice muffled and miserable, “I just want to stop hurting.” Something twists Sloan’s soul, and it makes Nightmare frown at the desperation in his voice, “I just want to remember it’s not supposed to hurt.”

Sloan sighed softly, her hand careful as she moves it to back of Sin’s skull, her fingers gentle as she pets along the bone, “I know Sin. It will.” She promises softly.

Sin gives a brief, bitter laugh before he looks up at her with a sort of desperation, a pleading in his sockets that surprises Sloan, “Sin?” 

He doesn’t say anything, his breathing hitches as he leans forward slowly, his hands trembling as he shakes out of their hold so he can reach for Sloan carefully. Sloan freezes, going still as Sin reaches gently to cup her cheeks softly, his bones cool against her warm skin.

He pauses briefly, waiting for Sloan to tell him to stop or to pull away as they share a breath, her eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and want. When she doesn’t pull away from him, Sin leans in, his teeth pressed to her mouth in a soft kiss.

Nightmare hisses at their side as Sin’s sockets sink shut, “Sin!”

Sloan only takes a moment for her mind to catch up with what’s happening, that Sin is cupping her face like she’s the most precious thing in the world to him, and her heart speeds up. Her soul warms as butterflies fill her stomach, and her mind reboots to catch up with what is happening right now.

Understands the fact that Sin is _kissing_ her, and she fucking likes it.

Sloan reaches back for him, her eyes slipping shut as she cups his face as well, kissing him back with just as much fervor. He moans softly as her tongue sweeps at his teeth and welcomes her velvety heat into his mouth, and warmth fills her.

Sloan sighs into his mouth as they share a breath, tasting his sweet-sour magic, and she deepens the kiss. Sin whimpers quietly into her mouth, allowing himself to be pressed backwards and into the wall, shifting his hands down to support Sloan from her bottom as she climbs on top of him. Sloan hums softly into their kiss as she straddles him, her hands still gentle on his skull, one cupping his neck carefully as her tongue brushed over his.

Nightmare _froze_ , mouth slightly agape as he watches Sloan and Sin, watched as they gripped and groped, and clung to each other. Watches how they kiss each other and felt something warm fill his soul. Something he hadn’t felt in an exceptionally long time and felt something warm trickle down his spine. He isn’t sure it this is safe for Sin, or if this is what he needs, and Nightmare feels _guilty_ at the enjoyment he gets from watching them kiss.

Guilt is another shitty feeling that Nightmare isn’t accustomed to, and neither is the feeling that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Sin sighed softly, relaxed under Sloan’s willowy body, but she’s careful not to pin him down in anyway. She’s careful to make sure he isn’t feeling trapped as she kisses him slowly, deeply, and a shiver of want runs though his body.

Nightmare tares his gaze away with strength he didn’t think he possessed. He can’t bare to watch them press into each other, hands careful and gentle, and despite the arousal that is building in his soul, he can’t help the unhappy throb that pulses with it. He has clearly outstayed his welcome here, clearly there’s no place for him in Sloan’s bed and she’s made a choice.

Moving slowly, quietly, Nightmare pulls away, pushing himself to his feet and pulling himself off the bed when Sin grabs at his wrist. Nightmare freezes, feels his soul pulse in a horrible mixture of want and fear, and he can’t even imagine what his face looks like as he stares up at Sin.

Nothing like the self-proclaimed king he described himself as, but a terrified young monster who was way out of his depth here. He didn’t deserve either of them, his perfect spell caster or his sensual assassin.

They’re both panting a little as they stare at him, one of Sin’s arms curled around Sloan’s back, pulling her tightly against his chest, his skull resting on her bosom. Sloan is looking at him over her shoulder with kiss-swollen lips, curly hair pulled heavily to one side and her soft brown eyes are cyan with her magic, bright against her perfect, dark skin.

Nightmare’s mouth waters as he watches them, watch him and he swallows thickly, “What?”

“Where are you going?” Sin asks weakly, his voice thick and watery, like he’s still afraid.

Nightmare glances sideways, clearly, he doesn’t belong here, “Away.” He looked away fully, “You’re clearly busy.”

He moves to pull away, but Sin tightens his grip, “Stay.” He whispered, his voice fragile and almost begging.

“Look, Sin,” he starts, but the words clog his throat when Sloan reached to him as well, her slim fingers curling into the sleeve of his shirt, and Nightmare looks helplessly to Sloan.

“Stay.” Her voice is just as soft, just as pleading as Sin’s, and Nightmare has no defence against them both.

Despite his own growing uncertainty, and maybe that was even fear in his soul, Nightmare allows himself to be drawn back to the bed with light, insistent tugging. Swallowing thickly, he allows himself to be drawn down to them, and Sloan shifts her grip to the front of his shirt.

Her hand fisted into the front of his shirt as she drew him closer to them, Sloan pulled him forward gently so that he was by her side, and as close as he was, he could feel the power rippling under her skin. All that power and magic contained by a gentle mage.

She pulled him closer still by the front of his shirt, and Nightmare was helpless to it, like he was under a spell, allowing himself to be tugged along.

She reeled him in close, stopping only a breath away from his teeth, unafraid and bold. Her breath was warm on his face, and it send a shiver down his spine as he stills and waits for what ever she’s going to do. He had decided that he will accept his fate, whatever that might be and hopes this isn’t a cruel trick that will break his newly feeling heart.

Sloan waits for him to do something, for him to pull away, only moving in closer when he doesn’t.

Sin curses when Sloan pulls him in closer, pressing her mouth against his teeth in a kiss. Nightmare shivers when she deepens the kiss, his soul fluttering wildly when her tongue brushes at his, and the shard in his soul burns against the darkness inside.

Still, he groans softly into her mouth, sighs when she lets go of his shirt to cup his cheek to hold him like he was precious. It takes him a moment to figure out how to kiss a human, what to do with his teeth, and its not like he had much practice kissing _before_ this.

Sloan is patient, guides him through the ebb and flow of their kiss, all the while Sin is staring at them with hot eye lights that are heavy with want. Her tongue lapped against his, tasting the sour-sweet of his magic, and Nightmare isn’t sure he can remember a time he’d been touched so sweetly.

He couldn’t remember a time that he had been so dominated by another and _liked_ it.

Sloan breaks the kiss gently, her eyes smoldering with magic and her mouth pulled into a delighted, devious, grin that sent a shiver down Nightmare’s spine, and he knows he’s in trouble. She bit her lower lip, thumb brushing at his teeth, “Good.” She praised softly, and internally, he preens at it, “Now kiss Sin.”

Gently, so very gently, Sloan tips his skull towards Sin, whose eye lights are bright with affection and want, and Nightmare finds himself going willingly. Kissing Sin is different, a little harsher as he reaches to kiss Nightmare back, tasting overly sweet to Nightmare’s sour.

His soul pulses with hot happiness and affection that he doesn’t know what to do with, and it almost overwhelms him. Sloan’s gentle hand on his spine keeps him grounded as he kisses Sin, who deepens their kiss, and clings to him almost as desperately as Nightmare clings to Sin.

Nightmare’s hands shake, so very much out of his depth when he very gently breaks their kiss. Sin’s breathing hitches, and Nightmare feels something warm crawl up his spine and magic heavy in his pelvis. Some part of his mind thinks this is too soon, happening too quickly, but Sin is so eager and pliable in their hands and Nightmare can’t help but tilt Sin’s skull back towards Sloan.

She takes him just as readily, pulling Sin back into a deep, sensual kiss, and Nightmare shivers when he watches them.

It’s not until Sin’s hand slowly move up the back of her shirt, touching the soft skin of her lower back, that Sloan pumps the breaks, “Wait.” She pulls away slowly, her hands going to his shoulders to get him to pause, and Nightmare winces at the devastation on his face.

He looks crushed, hurt, and confused, as Sloan suddenly pulls away, and he quickly pulls his hands from her shirt. He looks down to hide his upset, not wanting to guilt Sloan into anything, and even Nightmare was confused.

Wasn’t…wasn’t that what all this was about?

Sloan’s hands move quickly to catch his chin to lift his gaze back up to hers, and she’s quick to sooth another kiss over his teeth, “Its not like that.” She’s quick to reassure his unspoken question, her thumb soft over his jaw.

Sin’s brow furrows and hurt wells in his chest, “Then, why? I thought you liked me?”

Sloan tsks, makes a soft noise just before she kisses him softly again, “Oh, my favorite Sin. I do like you. I like you and Nightmare very much. But I don’t want you to regret this.”

His brow furrows, and he share’s a quick, confused look with Nightmare, who’s looking just as uncertain as he is. Neither of them understands what she’s talking about, but her words are softening the blow of rejection.

“You have gone through something very traumatic, and it’s not your fault.” Sloan explained carefully, her hands still soft on his cheek bones, “But I’ve seen this in the war. Soldiers that were desperate to reclaim their bodies, they look for casual relationships with those they deem safe, and there is nothing wrong with either of those. There’s nothing wrong with casual relationships, and nothing wrong with wanting to only be with people who you feel safe with.”

Fate knew that a good majority of the battle mages in their Coven had fucked their way through the army, the shock troops that had needed to blow off steam somehow, and her siblings hadn’t been the only ones with reputations.

Fate knew that she had one herself.

“But I’m not looking for casual anymore Sin. It’s not,” she pauses, and glances away, knowing that it might be what he wants, “It’s not what I want. And if that’s what your looking for that’s fine.” And this almost kills her to say, but Sin is a Den mate, and one that’s hurting. One that she’s very fond of, and she’ll do what it takes to make him feel better about himself, “I know Coven mates that would gladly play with you, ones that would treat you well and keep you safe.”

Coven mates who wouldn’t dare harm him for fear of her wrath.

Battle mages had a reputation of quick, brutal kills, but spell casters would make it last if their anger were cold enough. 

Sloan had that reputation as well and had earned every dark tale they told about her. She maybe one of the stories the Covens told their children to keep them in line, but there was more then a nugget of truth in those stories.

That reputation would keep Sin safe, should he decide he wanted something physical with a Coven mate.

Nightmare frowns at her as well, and it makes sense, her words lessen the hurt in Sin’s expression. He looks up at her slowly, hesitantly, fear etched into every line of his face, in the tight way he holds his shoulders, “But what if I like you?”

Sloan was everything they weren’t. Good, strong, kind, and Sin wasn’t stupid enough to see that she liked him for some reason. Liked him, liked Nights, when she had no reason to.

Sloan’s eyes gleam a brighter cyan, magic heavy under her skin and she bites her lower lip. Nightmare can feel their arousal heavy between them, and it makes his own mouth water.

Still, Sloan, ever the mature one, swallows hard and pets Sin’s face despite the heat and warmth that swell in her chest. He sighs softly, and Nightmare can see her shove down her own want hard, and he almost grins. He wonders, briefly, if he could find a way to coax is back out, but that somehow seems wrong.

Her smile is wide, delighted, “Slowly then.” she whispered like a promise, her thumb running along the crack in his lower cheek, soft over the bruise. Sin’s sockets slip shut, and he leans into her touch as she looks to Nightmare, “And, what do you want out of this?”

Blinking at her, Nightmare snorts, “Bold of you to assume that I’ve had any normal relationships.”

Sloan quarks a brow at him, but no less amused, “Slowly then.” She reiterates, leaning down to press a kiss to Nightmare’s mouth, one that makes Sin groan.

“Fuck, that’s pretty hot.” He sighs, making himself comfortable in her bed.

Sloan groans an agreement against Nightmare’s mouth, a hand coming to his shoulder as her tongue lapped at his teeth, encouraging a deeper kiss.

Yes, it is pretty hot, Nightmare thinks amused.

He doesn’t think about Den magic, or his brother or the dangers that he brings to Sloan by simply being. For once, Nightmare just _is,_ and enjoys the moment. He doesn’t think if he’s allowed to keep this, to keep Sloan and Sin, doesn’t fret over if he’s allowed to stay, and just enjoys the moment.

Enjoys a moment of a normalcy that he hasn’t felt before, something he’s never dared to dream of having.

“So,” Sin asks, the grin on his face a little brighter, one that they haven’t seen since he was taken, a step towards normalcy, “No sex?”

Sloan snorts before she can stop herself, despite her soft kiss with Nightmare. She breaks it to give an equally amused grin to Sin, one that puts Nightmare at ease, “No sex.” She confirms, “Slowly.”

“Oh.” Sin nods, his mischievous grin growing as he draws her back to him for a kiss, and Nightmare can feel the amusement from his soul. He draws Sloan into a kiss, and it’s clearly a trap even is Sloan doesn’t see it for what it is.

He presses a kiss to her mouth softly, making Nightmare grin in amusement at them, before Sin mummers, “Your brother told me you were ticklish.”

Nightmare’s grin is slow to grow even as Sloan freezes in Sin’s arms, “What?”

He doesn’t give her a chance to argue or say anything back before he’s flipped their position, pinning her down, blunt phalange pressing into her sides, earning a high shriek of laughter.

Amusement and affection burst from both of their souls, and it almost makes Nightmare a little nauseous to be near such positive energy, it rolls over like a heavy blanket, but he ignores his own discomfort.

A little nausea was worth seeing their delighted faces and to hear Sloan’s shriek of laughter.

“Sin,” he says suddenly, his firm voice drawing both of their faces to him, brows furrowed in mirrored confusion, as if they were children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, “You need to listen. Felix said her feet are more ticklish.”

Amused betrayal clouds Sloan’s face, and she barely gets the curse out to her brother, promising revenge before Nightmare catches her foot, wriggling tentacles tickling her toes. Sloan laughs again, clinging to Sin a little tighter, and Nightmare thinks that maybe, this won’t be so bad.

Maybe he can keep this world, and for a while at least, forgets his brother, and the other threats of the multiverse.

-

Sloan isn’t sure how long they had spent just kissing, and teasing and touching, but it seemed to be what Sin had needed. Something light and fun, and fuck if he could kiss in a way that made her toes curl, so be it.

Now, Sloan lay with her head on his summoned echo body, nestled onto his belly while his fingers played lightly with her hair. Nightmare had his head on her belly, with Sin’s on Nightmare’s in a tight knot of arms and legs, curled tightly togeather.

Sin stretched out, toes stretching out straight before he relaxed back into her bed, calmer then he had been in days, “Okay.” Sin says as she settles back down into the bed, “Favorite color?”

And yes, they were going to take things _slowly_ , carefully, and Sloan felt her soul twist at the thought that she could have hurt either of them. She wasn’t stupid, she had seen Nightmare’s hesitation, his own uncertainty, and she _worries_ , they’ll want to leave.

She’d never make them stay, but she’d ask them too.

Sloan hums, looks up to see the bruised underside of Sin’s chin and grins, “Turquoise.” She tells them confidently.

Sin nods, “Mine’s orange. It reminds me of my brother.” He tells them quietly, and it makes Sloan reach for his hand, her fingers hooking into the hole in his palm. She draws it down to her lips, brushing a kiss against his knuckles.

His thumb brushes her chin, and they both turn their attention to Nightmare.

He sighs, and it makes Sloan grin before he gruffly tells them, “Pink.”

That makes both Sloan and Sin pause, both turning to his burning face with a frown, waiting for the explanation. Nightmare sighs again, and rolls his eye light, “Before my transformation, my magic was purple. It paired nicely.”

They both pause, and he braces for laughter that never comes.

“Nights.” Sloan tells him softly, and he can hear the smile in her voice, her thumb brushing at the space between his sockets, “That’s the cutest fucking thing ever.”

He rolls his eye light again, but quietly presses into the touch, “Whatever.” But he can’t hide his grin despite his words.

“Alright,” Sloan says next, “Favorite dessert?”

Sin snorts, “Crème brûlée.” He tells them instantly, making Sloan grin.

“Dessert snob.” She tells him playfully, earning another snort.

“What of it? I’m a luxury few can afford.” Sin tells her with a grin, making Sloan laugh.

“Alright then,” Nightmare is amused from Sloan’s middle, “What about yours?”

Sloan grins, “French Macaroons.” Her grin is wide and bright, pearly white with perfect teeth.

It makes Sin bark a laugh, “Stars help me, you’re a dessert snob too!”

It makes her laugh as well, all soft and lovely, “I never said I wasn’t.”

Nightmare snorts at their childish squabbling, letting their voices roll over him, and lull him into a peaceful rest until Sloan poked his cheek, “What about you, oh negative one?”

Nightmare lightly snaps at her finger with his teeth, but it’s slow and no where near her digit. She doesn’t draw away and it makes her laugh, the weird little spell caster, “Vanilla ice cream.” He tells them, and he keeps going before he can stop himself, “It reminds me of what used to be home.”

That makes them both pause, and Sloan doesn’t hesitate when she quietly asks, “What’s your world like?” it’s a question the others don’t need to ask, wouldn’t want to.

The question doesn’t seem like an interrogation from Sloan, “Awful.” He admits, “It’s full of judgmental assholes who love my brother. The royal family only cared about what we could give them, and Dream would never hear about what we needed in place of our services.”

They both fall quiet and he can feel their aura’s dip downward. Nightmare shrugs, “Needless to say, I’m not welcome back there.” He doesn’t want them to feel bad for him, he doesn’t need their pity and he’s about to change the subject.

“Did you have friends there?” Sloan asks before he can, her fingers soft on his forehead, drawing aimless patterns in a soothing way.

“One.” He admitted, staring at the ceiling above them, feels Sin go still at what he was admitting to, knows that this is important, “The Frisk of my world is a lot like the one in yours. Kind, determined, befriended everyone.” Including the out cast, the deity of negativity, “When I turned, I made a deal with the Royal family of my world. I would leave them alone, and in return they would care for Frisk.” He shrugged, his and if his voice is quieter, neither of them mention it, “It was for the best.”

“Sorry Nights.” Sloan tells him quiet, her thumb soft on his forehead, gentle and comforting.

It’s enough to push away shitty memories, and Nightmare shrugs away his discomfort, “Well. It is what it is.” That makes Sloan grin at him, for some reason, “Anyways, speaking of worlds, I brought something back from Sin’s.”

That makes them both pause, and glace to him as he sits up to dig something out of his inventory. Sin and Sloan both sit up, turning to face him with matching frowns as he pulls something out, “I took these before we left. After Sloan melted the King and Queen of your world.”

Pulling the King and Queen’s crown from his inventory, he watches them both freeze, and Sin’s breathing hitches at seeing the glittering gold and precious gems glinting in the light.

“Shit.” He breaths. “you stole their crowns.” He won’t touch them, but there’s a sense of terrified awe in his voice.

“Trophies.” He corrects, still holding them out, but Sin won’t take them.

Sloan moves slowly, taking them from Nightmare, her eyes shimmering in cyan magic as her hands wrap around the cool gold and he goes on, “Coffee told us that when Felix saved him from almost being hit by a car, Lilith took the steering wheel as a trophy for him.” He still had it, buried at the bottom of his own inventory, “I figured that it was important to mages.”

Sin looks down, and Nightmare wonders if maybe he was wrong and gaged this incorrectly.

“Yes,” Sloan says slowly, tucking the crowns in her own inventory, “We do take trophies.” She glances to Sin, who’s still staring blankly at Nightmare’s now empty hands, “We have a trophy room for such conquests.” Her eyes flash with concern to Sin, “I’ll take you guys down there later, to add these to the collection.”

The battle mages, Sloan knew, would be endlessly amused that their new Den mate brought them home trophies from a recent assault.

Later, that’s for later.

Nightmare looks to Sin, and frowns, “They can’t hurt you anymore Sin.” It’s meant to be reassuring and Nightmare hopes that it is.

Sin nods, his eye lights dimming, and Nightmare can feel the trickle of fear even if Sloan can’t, “I know.” His voice is a little thicker, but they don’t say anything when it cracks a little, “Thanks.”

He knows Sin means it, but doesn’t have the vocabulary right now to say more then thank you. Its okay, Nightmare doesn’t need him too, not when he’s allowed to touch him now.

Pulling Sin into a harsher kiss then Sloan would have, Nightmare tastes the salt of his tears, his grief, but with Sloan at their side, Nightmare thinks they’ll be okay. Sin breaths shakily into their kiss, and clings to them, and Nightmare deepens their kiss.

His tongue rolls over Sin’s, mimicking what Sloan did to him earlier as Sloan carefully pets at Sin’s lower back, murmuring softly against his skull.

For once, Nightmare believes they’ll be okay.

\- 

He finds Sans sitting out back on the porch with the tin roof, and if Red is honest with himself, he’s surprised to find Sans so far from Lilith.

He’s been plastered to her side since she came home, never one to leave her alone with her own dark thoughts for long, the one to always safeguard her mind. Of course, he might be here on account that Edge has the battle mage napping in her room with him while he read, giving Sans precious few moments to himself.

It’s fucking soul warming, but it also gives Red a rare opportunity to chat with this almost soft version of himself without his security detail. For all that she was suffering now for it, Lilith was a force to be reckoned with, and she simply didn’t let anyone fuck with Sans.

Not his head or his body, and if the stories where true, not his life.

Usually, to get to Sans, one had to get through Lilith, and wasn’t it pretty fucking convenient that she was down for the count, leaving Sans all vulnerable.

Yet, Red wasn’t stupid enough to think Sans was some fragile little shit, not with an LV of 10 and dating someone who vaporized an army without flinching. No, Sans was, and it might kill Red to say this out loud, an equal. 

He was also Red’s best shot to get more information on this whole, Den magic thing.

Dropping heavily down next to him, Red leans back against the stairs, his elbow propped up on the step at his spine, his hands dangling loosely at either side of his ribs. Stretching out, Red tried to look relaxed next to Sans, the heat of the day beating down on them and it makes Red sweat with the heat.

It’s hot enough that Red’s stripped his jacket off, leaving it up in his room so that he only wore a dark t-shirt and shorts. Even his shoes were in the house, leaving his toes to dig into the grass.

Sans is relaxed next to him in a similar position, a cigarette loose between his teeth before he took a deep drag, blowing the grey smoke out to the side.

“Didn’t think your girl would like you smoking.” Red drawls, watching the trees in the forest sway with the wind.

Sans shrugs, “She doesn’t.” he confirms, “But she’s not my keeper, she trusts me enough to make my own choices.”

Red snorts and stretches his feet out to his toes can soak up the sunlight, “Riiight.”

Sans rolls his eye lights, “You’re in a mood.” He accuses, and it makes Red shrug at him, “You want one?” 

Looking up in surprise at the offer, Sans isn’t looking at him as he offers a cigarette to Red, who takes one, never stupid enough to say no to tobacco or coffee. He takes Sans’s lighter too, and is quick to pocket it, despite Sans’s own exasperation after he’s got his cigarette lit.

Red puffs on his smoke, his teeth carefully clamped around the filter, “Why you out here all on your lonesome centre fold?”

Sans rolls his eye lights at him, and hisses grey smoke out through his teeth, “Thinking. Are you here to pester me?”

Grinning at him, Red shrugs. He’s got a plan, and he’s looking for information. He _knows_ the truth, and fuck if Red doesn’t want to stay here, stay where Edge and Mercy were safe, but he needs proof if Nightmare is ever going to agree.

Ah, fuck it. Red’s just going to ask him. Subtly wasn’t really Red’s deal as much as it was Edge’s, and when he had been _Asgore’s,_ any subtly he did possess had been beaten out of him. Asgore, or at least, his Asgore, hadn’t wanted subtle. He wanted an attack dog, and that’s what he made Red into as his Judge.

He’s going to ask Sans about Den magic, question him why they were all so comfortable here, when there’s a crash from inside the compound followed by Lola cursing from the kitchen.

It’s a sharp, loud noise that was unexpected, sure, but Sans’s reaction to it was more volatile then what Red would have suspected from him; Sans had jumped, dropping his cigarette as he turned towards the noise, his eye light strobing blue and yellow with magic, and he gripped onto Red’s elbow with a bruising hold.

His body is stiff, still, and his shoulders hunched like he’s expecting a bow, and with a heavy dread in his soul, Red realizes its fear.

Sans was afraid of something, afraid in his own home and it stirs something dark and angry in Red’s soul. He liked Sans, enjoyed annoying him, but he didn’t like this fear from him, and Red holds very, very still.

Pain had been a wonderful teacher, and frightened monsters were dumb monsters.

He only relaxes when he hears Glass shout from somewhere else in the compound to Lola, _Are ya okay?_

Sans turns away when he hears Lola yell back, _Yeah, I just burnt my hand on a pan. I’m fine._

Red ignored them after that, ignored Glass’s concerned voice coming closer and Lola telling him it’s fine. That she can heal her hand, and there’s no need to put her fingers under cool, running water.

Red rolls his crimson eye lights before he refocuses on Sans, and frowns. Sans still hasn’t let him go, still gripping him tightly at his elbow, sockets down and his mouth pulled into a bitter line. Shame clouded his face darkly as Sans glared at the spot between his feet.

Red pauses, sharp teeth parting as he actually takes a moment to stop himself from asking about Den magic, and watches Sans. He knows pain when he sees it, knows fear and anger, and slowly his jaws close.

Something stirs in Red’s chest, something that feels like concern as his soul flutters, and that makes Red frown to himself. It’s another sign of them being Den mates, but that uncertain part of Red is easily swallowed up by whatever this was for Sans.

“Are you okay?” he asks slowly, words steady.

Sans pushes it away, tires to shake off his fear like a dog shaking off water after a bath, but Sans doesn’t quite manage the easy nonchalance that he had before. It does make Red wonder, what had Sans been thinking about out here?

“I’m fine.” Sans tells him quickly, too quickly and it makes Red snort.

“You and I both know you’re a better liar that that.” Red counters, watching as Sans reaches for his dropped smoke to take a drag anyways. He still hasn’t let go of Red’s elbow. “You wanna try that again?”

Sans huffs, stares out into the yard, and Red can see the conflict. Can see the pain that’s quickly buried, can see soul deep terror that Sans’s can’t quite get under control, and it makes something stiffen in Red’s soul.

It makes his metaphorical hackles rise, and he shifts closer to Sans without realizing he was.

“Fuck.” Sans curses and scratches along the top of his skull, looking put off and in a growing distress, “Fuck, you might as well hear it from me.” He muttered weakly, and Red isn’t sure who else would tell him, “Rather it be me, then the fucking buns. They talk too much.”

He sounds bitter, and it alarms something in Red. Something isn’t right, something is very wrong, and Red feels his spine tighten because he knows he’s going to hate whatever it is that Sans tells him.

Red does.

He isn’t sure if Sans tells him everything that happened underground, but he tells Red enough. He tells Red about what Oliva did to him, about Flowey and the Prince. About Chara, and Red can’t remember a time he’d been filled with such righteous fury.

Between those small, angry words, Red can hear the fear there. Can hear the things left unsaid, things that Sans likely _can’t_ say, but Red can hear it in the way his breathing hitches. The way his words studder ever so slightly, the way his voice cracks.

Red can hear that Sans is _terrified_ of Chara’s return, and what that means for him. He’s so terribly afraid, probably feels it right in his soul, and fuck Red knows what it’s like to have a tormenter stick around. Red knows enough of what trauma looks like to know that Sansy here, isn’t as okay as he might pretend to be.

It makes something _vicious_ and protective boil in Red’s bones, his Judge to move in his soul with a wrath he hasn’t felt since he smuggled Mercy outta the castle and away from Asgore.

_~~Surely, that has to be the fucking Den magic. Why should Red care about this monster and his issues? It’s not like Red really owed him. Lilith had been the one who saved his fucking worthless life and did that on her own accord.~~ _

_~~But, Red wants to care, which is the really fucked up thing.~~ _

_~~His soul does that thing the book said it would and reaches out to Sans. It~~ _ ~~sings _to Sans soul, tries to comfort him, tries to tell him it’s going to be okay._~~

_~~And fuck, with enough C4 and magic, Red could make it okay. Surely, he could keep Sans fucking safe in his own home, right?~~ _

“So, yeah.” Sans’s voice is small and hesitant, angry under all that fear, “That’s what happened.”

“That’s fucked dude.” Red tells him, doesn’t let on that he’s furious, Sans doesn’t need to deal with his emotions on top of his own.

Sans nods, “Yep.”

“No, Sansy.” He tells Sans with a sudden seriousness, “That is Underfell level of fucked up. The fact that Asriel is still alive, blows my mind.” The fact that Chara is still here to torment and hurt Sans, pisses him off.

Sans nods again, and Red scrubs his hand over his face with a sigh, “You talk to Lilith yet?”

Sans shook his head no, “No, we found out, she went to war and hasn’t been right since she got back. She doesn’t need my bull shit on top of her own.”

Red rolled his eye lights so hard, he thought he could have seen through time and space, “Ever the fucking martyr.” It makes Sans snort, watching his feet with misery in his eye lights.

Fucking assholes, they were making him soft.

Huffing a sigh, Red shakes his head, “Alright, come on centre fold, we’re leaving.”

Sans snorts, “Why, where we go’n?”

“Well, you decided to unload your bullshit onto me, and I can’t fuck’n leave you here now.” That makes Sans roll his eye lights, and that at least is a good sign. He’s not going to take Red’s nonsense, “So I might as well return you to your mate.”

He doesn’t give Sans the chance to object, doesn’t let him fight it, Red just reaches for his wrist and pulls him through a shortcut.

They tumble trough the void, Red _could_ make it smoother for his companions, but hey, its amusing to see them stumble when they come out of it. Only one that got a smooth ride from him were the kids, everyone else had to pay for their ride with his entertainment.

They sidestep out of the void in Sans and Lilith’s bedroom, and Sans stumbles, nearly falls, and grips onto Red before he falls sidesways to the ground. Red grabs him, steady’s him with a sharp, toothy grin, earning a glare from Sans.

“Asshole.” He curses, but it’s lacking the heat it normally would and Red takes it as a sign that he’s not that pissed. Fuck it, he’ll be forgiven. “You always take a trip through the void like a ping pong ball?”

“Yes.” Edge’s voice is rough behind them. He’s on the bed with Lilith, sitting up and reading some novel while she slept; the battle mage is curled on her side, her head buried into his ribs, sleeping lightly, “My brother can’t seem to understand the meaning of a smooth ride.”

Edge looks up, frowning when he sees the look of pinched misery on Sans’s face and the look of thinly vailed blood lust on Red’s, “Are you two alright?” he asks slowly.

Sans looks stricken again, like having to explain it all again might shatter his shaky control.

“Yep.” Red tells Edge quickly, taking Sans by the upper arm to lead him to the bed, “We’re all fucking peachy.”

They share a look, Edge’s sharp toothed skull tilts to the side, and they speak volumes without saying a word. _It’s bad. I’ll tell you later._ Red promised without saying as much, shoving Sans towards the bed.

Edge nods as Red kicks the bed, turning his attention to the battle mage, “Oi, Lilith.” He snaps, and she jerks awake with an undignified snort, her head coming off Edge’s chest, wiping drool off the side of her mouth, “Sans needs you.”

Sans turns to glower at Red, but those are the magic words that Lilith didn’t know she needed to hear, waking up a little more to turn tired eyes to her boy friend, “You okay?” she asked, wiping sleep from her eyes.

Sans shrugs, looking down and away, looking more vulnerable then Red remembers seeing him. Seeing them both, and he shares another look of concern with Edge.

Lilith huffed a sigh, reaching for Sans to gently pull him onto the bed, “Okay.” They share a significant look, one that speaks as much as the one Red and Edge share, and Red knows that Sans is in good hands.

“Come on love, lets have a nap.” Lilith suggests tiredly, Sans willingly followed where she took him, allowing himself to be tugged to the bed and nestled between her and Edge.

Lilith folds back down around him, tucking Sans in against her chest, his skull under her chin as her head went back to Edge’s ribs.

Something tight unwinds from Red’s soul, some kind of heavy blockage is suddenly gone when he sees the three of them, the three of the four most important people in his life, all nestled safe and sound.

Red startles at that thought, realizes he just called Sans and Lilith important, and part of him curses the fucking Den magic that’s starting to bind his soul to theirs.

Speaking of which, his own soul ignores his own fears to sing to Lilith and Sans, calling out comfort that seems to make them both sigh and relax.

Yeah, time to get the fuck outta dodge. Edge has the mage and the centre fold all safe and warm in their bed, his bro will keep them safe, no need for Red to stick around and wreck it.

Red takes a step back, eye lights burning hotly at Edge’s confused look, and Red isn’t stupid enough to miss his brother wanting him to say. Red isn’t ready to untangle all of this yet, nope. No thank you.

Or, at least he wasn’t until Sans cracks open a tired socket over Lilith’s rib case, “Where the fuck are you going?”

Red freezes, and he hears Sans huff, “Get the fuck in the bed.” He orders and doesn’t that just send something hot and heavy right to Red’s pelvis.

Of _course,_ Sans has a hot in charge voice, and briefly Red wonders what it would be like to hear him order him around in bed.

The thought makes him shiver but is quickly discarded. Sans already has a great mate, a powerful one. Why the fuck would he, either of them really want a fuck up like him?

“Dude come on.” Sans sounds tired, like he really isn’t in the mood to deal with Red’s bullshit today, “Just come nap.”

That voice, firm and commanding, makes Red shiver again, and even if Sans has no idea what the hell he’s doing to him, Red can appreciate it. His eye lights burn from his sockets, and when he risks a glance to Edge, he can see that his brother has gone stiff as well, the line in his shoulders told Red everything he needed to know.

Well, never let it be said they didn’t have the same taste.

Sans is still watching him, and Red still has a reputation.

With a put-upon sigh, as if this was some great inconvenience, Red makes his way back, doesn’t worry or care that the bottom of his feet are dirty, and climbs into their bed. He curls into Lilith’s back, and she sighs softly at the warmth against her spine, and she relaxes even further.

_~~Because she wants him here. Can feel his magic even in sleep and has decided he’s worthy.~~ _

Red decides to ignore that little voice and allows himself to curl up to nap. Sans reaches for him as well, arms going around Lilith to cling to Red’s wrists, and the three of them drift off to sleep. Red doesn’t worry, Edge’ll keep watch, and he’s by the door. They aren’t going to let anything hurt what’s theirs.

Edge takes a few moments to watch the three of them sleep before he goes back to his book, feeling soft and safe, and like everything will be okay.

Red forgets about Dens and magic, and bonds, and just relaxed into sleep.

He’ll figure out a way to keep this. To keep this soft, sometimes overwhelming world and the soft, overwhelming people in it.

Red didn’t always get to keep nice things, but fuck it, he’s willing to put in the work for this.

He falls asleep, soft, and warm, and utterly safe. His claws curl into Sans’s wrist lightly, Lilith between them, and Red silently vows to keep them safe. 

He can take the pain, so they don’t have too.

Sans sighs, his eye lights disappearing as his sockets slip shut, and grips tighter at Red as well. Red finally falls asleep, feeling soft and warm, and safe himself.

Red feels like maybe, it’ll be okay. 


	24. Time Keeps Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola and Glass go for a hike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> New chapter is a day late since I ended up working on Friday and have hurt my hip, so I had to deal with that. Thus, the editing process took longer then anticipated. But its here! My attempt at a humorous chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This chapter and the next one I have suffered a bit of writers block, so I do hope that it's come out well :) 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: mild description of abuse, mild description of breaking down a person (Fellverse), brief mention of an attempted suicide

Chewing on her Fruit Loops, Lola watches her Den and Crew with varying degrees of concern and amusement as they hoover around the kitchen. Everyone is getting ready for the day, starting to move towards normal again after the horror of what happened in Sin’s world. Getting back into their routine of guarding and defending their territory, caring for the Crew, annoying Nightmare. You know, normal things.

Frowning at her bowl of cereal, Lola takes a moment to pause and consider how unfair that was. How easy the world moved on as if nothing bad had ever happened, as if reality didn’t care about the poor suckers who lived within her.

Truthfully, reality didn’t give two shits about her inhabitants and didn’t bother to hide that fact.

It’s the one thing that always bothered Lola after hard missions and traumatic events, when everything that could go wrong, does, leaving all the players of that gruesome game shell shocked. The world kept moving along and people don’t even realize that a traumatic event has even taken place, it keeps going even when you weren’t ready to.

Sin is sitting across the table from her, dressed in a white t-shirt and his bulky jacket despite the heat. He’s not really paying attention to Lola, but is picking at his black jeans, his socked feet pressing hard into the rung of his chair.

Lola knows the reason he’s so layered up despite how the sweet spring air finally tipped into blistering summer heat. She knows Sin is still unsteady and likely feels safer bundled up like he’s ready for Snowdin rather then downtown Ebott. It’s the first time he’s leaving the safety of the compound and the protection spells that Chara has yet to break through, and he’s struggling to put his mental walls up. The fear in his face breaks Lola’s heart, makes something dark swell in her kind soul as her vice rattles unhappily from its box.

It’s his first session with Dr. Tracy, and even if Lola is glad he’s going, she can see the nervousness in his face, and in the tight line of his shoulders. He anxiousness is along side his fear, and Lola gets it.

She remembers her first session with the good doctor after the war, and how awkward it was to talk to someone about her issues. It was scary to admit that she wasn’t alright, but she persevered, got the help she needed, and she hoped Sin would as well.

Sloan came up behind him, her delicate hand landing softly at his shoulder as she set a cup of coffee in front of him, its light with sugar and milk, and the fear fades away into delight. His skeletal hands wrap around the mug, and he tilts his still bruised face up to Sloan with a grin. Lola’s vice is soothed at that softening look, and she knows that Sloan won’t let anything hurt Sin on their first trip outside the compound walls.

Her heart softens at Sloan’s delighted expression, happiness for her sister flooding her and Lola feels herself calm. Her sister was happy, and that soothed something in Lola’s soul. 

He murmurs a small thank you as Sloan leans down, her lips brushing at his teeth in a soft kiss from over him, reminiscences of the classic spiderman kiss. Glass goes still next to Lola, his own spoon of cereal halfway to his slack jaw, his expression gobsmacked.

Lola is quick to hide her amusement and the growing warmth in her soul now that her own shock had worn off from earlier that morning. It had been quite the moment when Sloan had pulled Sin into a quick, claiming kiss just before their jog, not even bothering to be discrete about it.

Their run was still more like an actual jog then a no holds barred training exercise as they all got back into the rhythm of their life, but Sloan kissing Sin had been the topic of gossip the whole run. Especially with the battle mages; Lilith and Felix had looked delighted once the surprise had worn off, likely thinking this was a step towards keeping the Crew here, and had their heads togeather, talking further away from the others the whole time.

Felix had actually fallen down the stairs to their porch when she then kissed Nightmare’s smug face, muttering _That’s not fair_ after he quickly pulled himself up off the ground. Really, Lola did find the irony in that, when the Crew had landed in their world, hurting and afraid, Sloan had been so sure that they had to leave.

Sure, it made sense at the time, but now things were different. They had marched to war for them, for Sin, and brought home a hurting Den mate.

Now they knew the Crew. Or, at least were staring to really know them. Knew how sweet Gore actually was, how kind Sugar could be. How smart Red was, and how funny Crow was when he wasn’t breaking apart. They saw the little nuances that made them real people, and not just the two-dimensional villains that Dream had told them about not so long ago. 

But, if Sloan, brilliant Sloan, was getting so attached that she was claiming her favorites in public, well, then maybe they all could.

Lola elbows Glass lightly in the ribs, getting him to snap his sharp teeth shut and buried his face back into his breakfast, pretending he’s not watching. Lola grins to herself every time his orange eye lights flick upwards to Sin and Sloan in wide eye’d awe.

“Ready to leave in twenty?” Sloan asks as she sits between Sin and Nightmare, drinking her own coffee.

Sin frowns into his mug and shrugs, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He’s a little sullen, but he brightens when Sloan takes his hand, giving it a little squeeze.

Sin relaxes, but Sloan keeps hold of his hand as she looks to her siblings, “What are you all up to today?”

They’ve all been rather lackadaisical since the fall out from Sin’s world, they’ve all been raw and unsteady since, and this is another step to almost normal.

Ryder sighs, “Reports. Someone’s gotta be a responsible adult and go through all the requests we’ve gotten over the last few days.” There’s no heat in Ryder’s words, and he looks amused more then anything else, “I’m gonna get Paps to follow up with the Nadia, make sure they’re still okay.”

They all nod, and yeah, it’ll be good for Ryder and Papyrus to spend the day togeather, Lola thinks. Feels her heart warm at her brother’s happiness.

“Wine wants to do lessons with Mercy and Hope.” Felix chimed in next, talking around the toast in his mouth that makes Wine cringe, “If we can’t send them to school, he wants to make sure they’re not going to fall behind, so I’m going to go photo copy parts of Frisk’s text books.”

Good, Lola thinks to herself with a grin, it’ll be good for the girls to keep up. They were hesitant to enroll the two girls into Frisk’s school for fear of uprooting their lives when the Crew left. Maybe now they could reconsider it? If they could convince them to stay?

“Undyne’s already left for the hospital with Al.” Lilith tells them next, setting down her own mug, “They’re back with Dom today.” She sighed, and Lola relaxed. Her sister was only just starting to look better. Not so tired and strained all the time, not so ready to snap at a moments notice, “Undyne never did catch those Yule cats, but she scared it off. The mother is back and hunting all the sheep out on the in the farm in the west end of town.” She shrugs, “I’m going to see if I can find them and take them back up the mountain.”

Sans looks up at her, his grin gentle when he asks, “You want some company?”

Lilith’s usually cool expression cracks into one of delight, “Sure. You know I always love it when you come hunt with me.”

There’s a quick, soft look on Sans’s face, one that Lola is delighted to see, knows that Sans is so in love with her sister, before it morphs into amusement. He looks to Red and Edge, and Lola knows he’s being obvious on purpose, “You guys wanna come with? Get out of the compound for a while?”

Lola watches them carefully, sees them both look up at him in surprise, sees the micro expressions cross over their faces in various degrees before masking it. She sees their thrill and delight at being included, that Lilith and Sans wanted them around, that they trusted the pair from Underfell to help them.

She watches with growing amusement as they both quickly school their expressions, barely noticeable if one didn’t have a keen eye from war.

Red shrugs first, “Sure, whatever centre fold. If ya need help.”

Sans grins back with his usual sardonic expression, “So kind of you to offer.” Red rolls his eye lights as Sans grins at him. His expression softens into something kinder when he looks to Edge, “What’da say Edgelord? Wanna come hunting?”

Edge hesitates, and Lola can see the want in the very mild way his expression changes, the longing to be included, before his rough voice response, “If you would like the assistance, I don’t mind helping.”

Sans grins, delighted, and Lilith adds, “I like your company too.” And Lola is quick hide her cheeky grin into the mug of her own coffee as Edge goes red and Lilith looks too fucking soft.

Idiots, she lives with a bunch of idiots, but at least they’re sweet idiots.

The all look delighted, happy, and that more then anything else makes Lola happy. Nightmare’s going with Sin and Sloan, and good, Sin’s going to need the support. Hope and Mercy are going to use their last morning of freedom playing Mario Party with Coffee, while Sugar is going to help Papyrus and Ryder.

Gore, Crow and Ripper are planning to spend the morning paying strip poker, apparently, leaving only her and Glass to figure out their day.

For once, Lola has no responsibility today. No healings to do, no dire missions, no one to rescue. No one counting on her to do the impossible and help save someone’s world. 

Thrilled, Lola grins at the group, “I have a free day.” She tells them happily, “I think I’m going to take a hike, and go see the young drakes fly. The last clutch that hatched is about two now, and they should be staring their leaps by now.”

The others nod, and yeah, it sounds like a nice idea, a nice hike in the forest to go see the young dragons in their territory. It did them good to see the mages from early on, and two was a good age to start introducing them.

Next to her, Glass snorts, looking amused, like a jerk.

Lola turned to him, her amused grin falling flat, “What?”

“A hike?” his gruff voice asked, his own amusement growing, his scared face twisting into a smirk that made Lola frown.

“Yeah?”

Glass snorts again, and even Red is giving him a weird look, “That is literally the nerdiest thing I have ever heard.” He tells her, gold fangs glinting in the morning light as he drops his chin into his hand with a smirk on his face, body loose as he curled up a little into the table.

Lola blinks at him, her mouth pulling into a deeper frown, “Is not.” She’s quick to defend, which only seems to delight Glass even further and his smirk widened.

Inwardly, she sighs, and it seems like today is her day to be annoyed by him.

From cross the table, it’s Felix who suddenly snorts, “Dude, you ever go hiking with Lols?” he asks, his grin knife sharp, and it makes something in Glass hesitate.

“It’s a hike.” He counters, drawing a wider grin from Felix, like he knows something that Glass doesn’t, and he bristles.

“Glass.” Felix tells him solemnly despite his wide smirk that shows too much teeth and tells everyone that Felix is deeply amused by Glass’s statement, “I give you ten to one odds that you couldn’t do what she could do.” 

It makes Lola grin at her brother with a pulse of relief and affection. Felix was always so quick to stick up for her, had since the war when the other shield mages would laugh at her shallow pool of magic, her fierce big, little brother.

It makes Glass frown, his soul suddenly feeling heavy, “It’s a nature hike.” He counters again, as if it’s the obvious thing.

“No.” It’s Lilith’s voice that answers, making Felix’s grin impossibly wider and Lola settles at her sisters cool voice, “What Edge and Wine went on was a nature hike, what Lola is planning is a workout.” She looks up at him, and if Glass ever doubted that Lilith and Felix were siblings, her sharp smirk that mirrored Felix’s only solidified that they were, “And I think ten to one odds is generous. I’ve been on that hike, I’d say you’re more like thirty to one.”

Lola snorts at that, nearly choking on her coffee as she tried to stop the laugh that nearly bubbled up.

Glass sits up straighter now that his pride is on the line, glowering at the smug battle mages, and giving Lola a side eye’d glare as she tried to hide her giggle. Her eyes were bright with amusement, and there’s a weird scrapping against Glass’s soul that made him frown, “It’s a hike.”

“Sure it is.” Felix all but challenged as he stood, downing his coffee, “And like Lili said. Thirty to one.”

Glass glared, scowled really, and his damnable Papyrus pride wouldn’t allow him to drop it, wouldn’t allow Lilith and Felix to take the piss outta him. It was a nature walk, and he had survived his fucking world, he could survive a hike with a human that was less then half his size.

Glass should have known better.

Glass should have read the signs in the sharp, cold smiles from the battle mages as they roped him into something he didn’t actually want to do. Should have seen the warning as Sloan sighed in guff amusement as the battle mages played him like a fiddle, and Lola’s barely hidden grin.

He should have known his fucking pride was going to get the best of him, and this is hardly the first time it’s got him in trouble like this.

Glass should have _known_ better.

He did know better, which was why this was such a kick to the ribs. It doesn’t _hurt_ per say, but there’s an uncomfortable feeling in his chest from what he’s sure is being manipulated. Either, for whatever reason, the battle mages wanted him to go with Lola, probably to protect her, and really, they could have just _asked,_ or they _were_ just getting his goat.

Being the butt of their joke wasn’t a pleasant one either, but he had to admit, they had been right.

It’s so hot out, and Glass would have dressed for the heat rather then his own emotional comfort if he knew how _long_ this hike was.

The trip up the mountain was hot and hard with the sun blazing down on them, and Glass is sweating already, the magic leaking from his bones to dampen his t-shirt and pants. His bomber felt stifling, like it was a mini sauna and it Glass felt like he was going to pass the fuck out.

He thought about taking off is bomber but stripping it off would leave him only in a sweaty white t-shirt, and his shirt was already stick to his ribs, showing off the damage. Yeah, sure, Lola saw him topless the other day at their impromptu pool party, but that was safely behind the mage’s wall of protection.

Not, here. Out in the open.

Glass shoves it aside, and suffers in the heat of the day, but he doesn’t endure in silence.

“Why the fuck is it so hot?” he nearly whines between his heavy panting, slumping into his coat as Lola stepped carefully up onto a heavy log, and Glass ignores her helping hand up.

She frowns up at him as he pulls himself up onto the log beside her, towering over her tiny frame. Her glossy black hair is pulled up into a high pony tail, the little wisps of her bangs trying to fly away, and Glass is distracted by the little bead of sweat that dripped down from her hair line at her temple. He tries, and fails, not to follow its short journey along her jaw line and as it rolled down her soft throat.

Despite how her smooth, beige skin was flushed with the heat, she was still unruffled from the walk. Already an hour and a half in, Lola wasn’t even huffing or panting, barely winded as they started to trudge up the mountain side.

It’s probably because she’s wearing sensible hiking boots, and not thin high tops like his. Could also be that she’s wearing dark grey hiking shorts, and not his heavy black pants. Could also be the white tank top she’s wearing and not the heavy bomber jacket he had, and fuck, she doesn’t even seem winded by the heavy pack she insisted on lugging up this way.

Of course, it could also be that she had endurance born of war and clearly, she knew these trails.

Hard to say really.

Glass grins, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his ill-equipped pants. It’s the sixth time he’s asked her that, and he’s betting the can get her to answer another four times before she snaps at him. Silly little kindness soul.

“It’s summer.” She tells him flatly, “Its going to get hotter.”

His grin widens, sharpens, and he’s deeply amused by her annoyed huff. Lola spins away from him, easily jumping down from the log without missing a step, pushing her slim shoulders back, “You didn’t have to come.” She reminds him, and Glass is more then amused as he steps off the log with far less grace, listening to her annoyed words, “You can also turn back now. Nothing is stopping you from heading down.”

Glass balks, tripping over a rock he should have easily walked over, “We still have to go down!” he snapped, and Lola came to a sudden halt.

It’s so sudden that Glass walked directly into her back, but the tiny mage doesn’t budge as green magic ripples around her body. She turns to look up at him with wide, stunned eyes, “How do you expect us to get down?”

Glass blinked at her, and he had enough Sans in him to think of only one answer, “A short cut?”

Lola blinked back at him and clenched her jaw, “I thought you were a Papyrus?”

Glass shrugged and tries not to let her see how that made his soul do a weird compress thing. It didn’t actually hurt, it just felt like pressure of a bruise, “Imma Swap.” He told her brightly despite how he felt, popping the P, picking that up from Sans, just to watch her frown.

Lola huffed, dark eyes narrowed, and she muttered something in a language he couldn’t understand. She turned away, back straight as she addressed him over her shoulder, “I’m not ‘short cutting’” and she did the air quotes with her fingers and everything that makes Glass grin, “down the mountain. That’s cheating.” She tells him exasperated.

Glass rolled his orange eye lights, “How’s it cheating?” he asks, more to be an ass then anything else, and he liked the heated look she gave him.

“It just is!” she tells him, climbing over a rock, still pausing to offer another hand to help him up. He doesn’t take it.

They carefully climb over the rocky terrain when he asks, “And what, you just walk back down?”

“Sometimes.” And he rolls his eye lights as the terrain evens back out, “But it’s hot.” She eyes him up, shaking her head at his smirk, “So I’m thinking of going over a waterfall.”

“Okay.” He tells her sardonically, “You’re going to jump over a waterfall?”

Lola nods, completely serious, “Yes.”

He stares at her flatly, shaking his head at her as his soul is soothed. Talking to her like this eases something inside of him, even if he doesn’t know why, “Yeah, okay.” He tells her in that same sarcastic tone that makes Lola huff at him.

They go back to walking quietly, Lola leading him through the winding trails that she clearly knows so well. Glass has no option but to trust her, relying on the fact that she won’t try to kill or hurt him, and try to ignore the weird hurt in his soul that she only looks up at him when they hear a bird’s call.

It’s too quiet for Glass, and he doesn’t like. It makes his soul heavy and itchy with too many things crawling up in the back of his broken, damaged mind to remind him of things he’d rather not think about.

The silence reminds him of Toriel’s armory, shoved into a dark, narrow closet until she was ready to use him again. Ready to send him out like a vicious hound to murder the enemies of the crown, and suddenly his chest feels heavy. Constricted, like he’s been shoved into that damp, pitch black closet, tucked away like a toy that’s been put up, and forgotten about.

If he was lucky, Empress Toriel would put him out on loan to Muffet, and at least when she borrowed him to eliminate the rival gangs in Hotland, he could escape back to Snowdin for a while and fuck around with Grillby for a bit.

That was long before Nightmare saved him, pulled him out of that hell and into this new life of his. This perfect new world where he got to meet people like Sin and Edge, where he got to fail them and let them get hurt.

“What language were you speaking?” Glass asks suddenly, needing to fill the silence between, desperate to not _think_.

Lola looks up at him, and her expression softens at his question, “Mandarin.” She tells him simply, leaving it at that, still annoyed at him being a brat and her voice softens the memories trying to climb out of the dark recesses of his mind.

“Oh.” The birds aren’t enough, and at least Lola’s a good distraction, “Where’d ya learn that?”

Her mouth opened to tell him, and Glass is desperate for her words, any words, when she slowly closes her mouth. She seems to hesitate in her answer as she ducks under a branch that Glass needs to step around before she answers, “Why do you get to ask me questions, but any time any of us ask you questions, you don’t want to talk?”

Its bold words spoken quietly, and it makes Glass frown. Because, _shit_.

He curses the others for being so fucking open about their worlds when Glass had no intention of talking about his shit hole world.

Quietly, Glass chews on his summoned tongue with sharp teeth, slicing through the summoned flesh easily and magic filled his mouth. The pain in his mouth is sharp and white hot, it helps him focus on her words and not the sweltering heat or the throbbing of his soul, “What would you want to know?” he asks quietly, surprising even himself.

Lola looks up at him as he walks beside her, and his soul stutters at her eyes widening in surprise, and she hesitates, “What’s that button in your jaw?”

Glass falters, feels his body go stiff despite the easy pace of the walk. Lola has slowed down, letting him keep up with her quick stride, “It. It holds my jaw hinge in place.”

He waits for her pity, but her brow furrows in concern that he doesn’t know what to do with, “What happened?”

He glances away and clears his throat awkwardly, “Pretty sure it’s your turn.”

Lola softens a little towards him, and nods, “My mom started to teach me.” She told him, “My great grandparents were from China before they moved here to be closer to this part of the Coven. They could feel it in their souls that this was home, and that their Den was here. That the Den they had been born into wasn’t the one they were meant to stay in.”

She gives a little shrug before she continues and Glass hangs onto her every word, “They had my grandfather once they found their Den.” Lola smiles, its soft and beautiful, and Glass is sure no one’s ever smiled like that around him before, “Before the war lots of mages would search for their Den mates. It used to be a right of passage for young mages, their first true adventure.” It was something that she never got to experience because of the brutal civil war that decimated their numbers, “Anyways, my grandparents had my mom, who had me. They taught her, and she started to teach me before she died on the front. I just kept it up,” she looked down and shrugged, “I don’t really remember my mom, so it’s some way to hold onto my heritage. I guess.” 

“Oh.” Glass pauses, and frowns, but Lola doesn’t seem saddened by it, more that it was just a fact, “What’s a heritage?” the unfamiliar word is awkward in his mouth.

Lola shakes her head no, “Sorry Glass, your turn.”

He remembers what she asked, and feels his soul go cold. He doesn’t like to talk about what happened to him under the Empresses rule, what she did to break him.

How she hurt him.

But…its Lola who’s asking.

He swallows, his throat feels dry and itchy in the heat, but his body feels cold. Its like he’s been super chilled and the sweat on his bones freezes in place. His tongue feels thick as he starts to speak, “Empress Toriel,” he started quietly, avoiding Lola’s gaze, “Didn’t appreciate my sarcasm.”

Lola rolled her eyes, not quiet catching the flatness of his voice, “You, sarcastic? I don’t believe it.” she huffed, her mouth curled into a small smirk. Her words were not meant to be biting or cruel, more playful prodding like they’ve been doing all morning.

Glass curled a little tighter into his coat and braces for pity, “She kicked my face in.” in told her plainly, staring at his dirty shoes, “Then left my jaw hinge broken for months.”

He glances to her as the amusement melted into a horrified expression, “By the time the healers were allowed to touch me the bone was so eroded that they needed to pin it in place.” His razer sharp claws brushed at the small gold button, his fangs flashing in the hot, bright sun.

Lola feels cold, feels angry, not that she asked but that it was done to him at all. Her hands ball into fists, and something inside ripples with anger. _~~With hatred.~~_

Lola shoved it down, looking back up at Glass when he laughs bitterly, and he manages to make it sound self deprecating, “That’s not even th’a worse thing she did ta me.” His accent slips a little more, and he swallows hard.

Sighing softly, Lola feels bad as she calms her racing heart. She hadn’t meant to make him feel like shit, and it wasn’t so much curiosity as wanting to know what kind of threats might come from his world.

She wanted to be ready for what might come for him, should Chara open a portal to his world, and it looked like Toriel was the villain here.

Not Glass.

“I’m sorry.” She tells him softly, hiding her own anger deeply, “That wasn’t fair of her to do that.”

Glass looks at her surprised, before he looks away with a sharp noise from his throat, “What’re you sorry for? Itz not like you did it.”

“No.” Lola tells him quickly, softly, “But I can empathize with you. I can dislike what they did to you.” She could be angry at what they did to a Den mate and harbor his secret.

It makes Glass feel weird inside, warm and soft, uncertain, and way out his depth. Overwhelmed and he doesn’t have the words to tell Lola he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, “So uh. Heritage?”

Lola nods, and sees the change of subject for what it was, “It’s like. Your background of where you came from.” Glass tilts his head, and still doesn’t understand, but he’s _trying,_ “We all come from someplace else before we ended up here.”

“Is…” Glass pauses, not sure if this is rude, his voice lowering, “Is that why you don’t look like any of your brothers or sisters?”

Lola grinned softly at him, and it was true. Their Den was diverse, each of them with a different ancestry that had no bearing on the family they found and made here. Sure, it was a neat little tidbit, but it didn’t change who they were or the fact that they are family.

The fact that they are a Den.

“Yeah.” She told him softly, coming to a rock face, head tilting to look the forty feet up.

Glass shifted, “That’s neat.” He told her, looking up as well, and relaxed, “So. I guess this is the end of the line then? We head home?”

Lola gave him a sideways look and a frown, “No.” she told him, much more patient then she had been before, “We go up.”

Glass turned to her as she swung her pack down, and dug out some powder that she dusted her hands with, “Up?” he doesn’t mean to sound choked and surprised, but he can’t help the way the small word comes out a bit strangled.

“Yep.” She told him delighted, and suddenly Glass gets whey Felix and Lilith didn’t think he’d make it. It wasn’t the unnecessary hard walk, or climbing over fallen trees and rocks, it was this fucking sheer rock face that Lola was going to fucking scale.

He watched her climb with expert precision, mouth falling open as she scaled it like she had done it a hundred times before, his non-existent stomach dropping into his knees. She was nearly twenty feet up when Glass shook himself from his stupor and hollered up to her, “Why don’t you just fucking trace up!”

Lola paused, and fucking _leaned back_ , clinging to the rock face with one hand to holler back down, “That’s no fun!” before she continued her way up and Glass swore his soul leapt into his throat and wedged itself there.

Rubbing at the spot between his sockets trying to get the feeling back into his fingers, Glass doesn’t get how she’s like this. Why are they all like this, why the hell were mages all fucking _crazy_? “Or just fucking use the gravity thing!”

“Still no fun!” she called backdown, nearly to the top, and she doesn’t stumble once.

Glass’s soul is in his throat the whole time, and he’s terrified that she’s going to slip. He’s afraid that she’ll plunge to her death, and he won’t be able to catch her. It’s been years since he used blue magic, and he’s not sure he could catch her with it.

It’s sheer fucking relief when she pulls herself up to the ledge, looking down at him with a bright, kind smile, her legs dangling over the ledge. She swung them out in front of her, and Lola tilted her head down to him with amusement, “You coming?” Glass tries not to acknowledge how his soul softens at that question, that she wasn’t leaving him behind, nor acknowledges the fact that this is one of the few times that someone wanted him around.

Wanted _him,_ not his ability to cause destruction. 

Glass blinks at her, high up on the ledge, safe and sound, and looks at the rock face that he has no idea how to scale. He has no training, no way to do this without killing _himself, ~~tried that once, not really looking to try again,~~_ and he’s not going to fall to his death to keep up with a war trained mage.

“Yeah, fuck that.” He sighed out, and looked back up to Lola’s grinning face, focusing on _her._

Unlike Red and Coffee, Glass could focus on the who, rather then the place of a short cut. Sure, it made it harder, and he still needed to know his landing zone, but he can see Lola. He can feel her magic, her excited soul song singing brightly to his, and he focuses on that as he steps back into a short cut.

His trip through the void is a quick one, it’s too dark and quiet, and he swallows back his panic as he reappears at Lola’s back, high up on the rocky ledge. He’s almost insulted when Lola turns to him without startling, and _pouts_ at him. 

His soul warms, and it’s not fair how cute she is.

“That’s not fair.” She sighs up at him, and it makes Glass smirk as he offers her a clawed hand.

Her pout turns into a grin, and she carefully takes his hand so he can pull her up. Lola’s hand is so much smaller in his own, calloused, and warm and nice.

“Thanks.” She chirps brightly at him as she stands, not noticing that Glass is hesitant to let her hand go.

He does, uncurling his sharp claws from her fingers carefully, and coughs awkwardly at her praise, “Sure.”

Lola gives him another little snort, nudging him lightly in the ribs with an elbow, “Come on, we’re almost there.”

His sockets go wide, and his mouth falls open as Lola turns light on her feet, and heads deeper into the woods. He huffs, shaking his head at her, “We have a destination!”

He follows her high, soft laughter, and Glass feels something lighten in his soul.

-

It turned out, ‘almost there’ was another two and a half hours of walking up the mountain. Two and a half hours of tormenting each other and just, talking. Two and a half hours on a trail that got increasingly worse, harder, with every fucking step.

It wasn’t just the general unkept state of the trail, or the rocks they had to climb over, or even the fallen trees they had to literally _clear_ to keep moving _._ It wasn’t even the _other_ rock faces that Lola scaled without breaking a sweat, that had Glass’s soul in his throat the whole time, utterly terrified that she was going to plunge to her death.

It wasn’t even that, at one point, while dangling over his head with only her hands, Lola laughed out loud, and Glass _swore_ she was going to be the death of him. He didn’t ever short cut to the top until Lola made it safely up, just in case. 

The worse of it was the _narrow_ planks of wood that were makeshift bridges that someone had laid across rushing water to weakly connect two pieces of land. So narrow that you had to step one careful foot in front of the other, like you were on a tight rope over rushing water. Lola crossed those bridges without even slowing down, even when the planks shifted underfoot, threatening to toss the person crossing into the fast water, Lola just kept going.

She only stopped to ensure that Glass made it across safely, and he’s far more hesitant over the ‘bridge’ then she is. Even when he braced for her laughter, Lola just smiles softly at him before carrying on as if he wasn’t weak kneed from what he just did.

Two and a half hours in, and Glass is too committed now to cut and run now, despite how he’s broiling in his coat, and how he pants. His chest hurts from the hike, and his legs feel like jelly for walking for so fucking long. He’s going to sleep solidly tonight, and with any luck, not have nightmares.

Lola _finally_ slows as they come to a clearing near the top of the mountain, near a wide river, the water rushing over the edge and into a deep, clear pool of water below, and Glass thinks he’s never been so fucking grateful to reach a destination in his life.

She drops her pack, spinning around to grin brightly at him, arms splayed as if to say _ta-da_ , and all Glass can do is stare flatly at her, “We’re here.” She tells him brightly.

Sighing, Glass steps out from the arguably cooler forest and into the heat of the fresh summer sun, coming to a rocky ledge in the mountain, “What’s so special...” he doesn’t get the chance to ask her what’s so special about this place when he trips over his own feet, and he’s going to blame it on his own exhaustion over his stupidity, and suddenly stumbles forward.

He would have face planted directly into the hard, rocky terrain, probably would have busted his face into the stone, had it not been for Lola.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion as her eyes widen, her delight wiped off her face for panic, and she traced for him. His arms pinned wheeled in a vain attempt to catch himself and he fell into Lola. He easily had more then a foot over her in height, but Lola made up that difference with a fearlessness befitting a battle mage.

She caught him, breaking his fall as he stumbled into her arms, and Lola nearly dropped him. She twisted, somehow, saving him from smashing his face into the rock, and spread his lighter weight over more of her tiny frame, his legs splayed over her thigh as Lola ended up _dipping_ him like some shitty romantic comedy.

Her arm was tight around his mid back and the other cradling the back of his skull as his hands gripped at her shoulders, being so careful to not pierce her delicate skin with his razor-sharp claws. Shock rippled through Lola as she held him, seemingly not knowing what to do next as she cradled him, her mouth far too close to his razor-sharp teeth then he would have liked.

No one needed to be that close to his face, no one he had ever liked ever had good intentions to be that close to his mouth. _~~Except maybe the prostitutes in the Capital that taught him what he needed to know to survive his teenage years on the street with his brother. Sometimes he wonders what they are up to now, and if they’re still alive.~~_

_~~He wonders if they realized that they gave him the tools to survive when he has asked that first one to teach him to kiss when he’d barely been sixteen.~~ _

_~~It’s…not so bad that it’s Lola.~~ _

“Are you okay?” she asks in a hushed voice, kind eyes wide and soft.

“Uh.” Glass hesitates and feels his face scald as his chest fill with heat, “Yes?” he pauses, waiting for her to tip him back up, and he clears his throat, “Could you. Could you let me up?”

Old, unnecessary fear sparks in his soul, and for a moment he’s terrified that she won’t let him go.

 _ ~~This is Lola!~~_ his mind argues with the fear in his soul that is only soothed when Lola’s face turns bright red from her hair line and down her throat.

Even her ears go beat red and her eyes widen even more, “I’m so sorry!” she blurts, and with a heave she tips him up the other way and back onto his feet.

Glass scrambles to steady himself, scratching at the back of his arm as he clears his throat, “That was a,” he pauses, and adverts his eye lights, “That was a good catch.” He tells her, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt, “Thanks.”

Lola looks just as embarrassed, pressing the palms of her hands into her thighs, “No problem.” She looks back to the pack and squirms, “I ah. Lilith taught me how to use my centre of gravity to, um. Well usually kill people but.” Her words are hesitant and her blush so deep that Glass would have been endeared by it if not for how _embarrassed_ he was. “But it seemed necessary here.”

Glass nods, and the awkward silence returns, the kind that he hates and makes him uneasy.

“So, um. I made sandwiches for lunch.” She offers quickly, and it’s a suitable distraction.

“Awesome.” And Glass doesn’t particularly care what kind of sandwiches they are.

Lola nods, still terribly emberressed, when she turns for her pack, motioning Glass to follow her. Its only when she’s turned her back to him, does Glass slump, burying his face into his hands and swallows his groan.

Because, that _wasn’t_ embarrassing now was it?

He takes a breath before he follows along, takes a moment to straighten up and square his shoulders, and ignores his suddenly pounding soul. Its fine, its not like he hasn’t been embarrassed before, better that Lola know now that he’s a fucking dork too.

Taking a breath, he tunes back into Lola’s chatter, listening to her soft words about what choices he had for lunch when he steps beside her and finally sees where she’s taken him and feels his jaw drop.

They’re high above the compound, but he can see it nestled safely at the bottom of the mountain, a squat, grey building that held so many important people. He can see their pool still blown up on the roof, and the lounge chairs where they hid from Undyne.

He can see the bright, lush forest all around the compound and the sparkling lakes. The sun reflects off the surface of the rivers that feed into and out of the lake on their compound, and further out he can see the town of Ebott. It’s a small, sprawling town with long roads and tucked away in the forest.

The sun sparkles over everything, casting the land into hues of golden orange and yellow, and it makes the green of the forest seem brighter. Like it has come alive, and Glass doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so fucking pretty in his life.

His knees go weak, and buckle under him as Lola’s voice peters out softly and he hits the ground hard. “Glass?”

“It’s beautiful.” He gasps out in awe, watching how the sun glistens over the world below them, and suddenly, Glass can appreciate the walk up here.

Lola turns back to the world below to see what he’s looking at, and grins when she turns back to Glass. Her smile is bright and kind, soft in a way that had been eradicated from his world when the Empress had burned away anything good within them.

She doesn’t hesitate to stand, two sandwich bags in hand, bottles of water tucked under her arm as she nears him. Smiles at _him_ like he was worthy of her gaze when the beauty behind her was real, and here.

She takes his hand, her slim fingers sinking between his heavily clawed fingers, and she leads him to that wonderful, awe inspiring sight. Glass is helpless to follow her, almost numb as he’s pulled to his feet and lead along.

He sinks down next to Lola at the edge, and feels that breathless, almost weightless feeling of being so very high up, and far below them is a very deep pool of crystal-clear water.

Lola clings to his hand, her smile gentle as she presses a bottle of water into his other hand, “It’s really peaceful up here.” She tells him softly, “It was my favorite place to come and just sit in the calm after the war.”

“Yeah.” Glass can’t get his soul out of his throat, can’t get his words passed the wedge that’s suddenly there, “I’v never seen anything like dis.” His accent is thicker again, now that all the language training that Toriel had forced down his throat is forgotten in his awe.

Lola squeezes his hand, just being there with him, watching in sun climb higher and they quietly eat their lunch, and even then Glass can’t take his eye lights from the inspiring sight before him.

He feels lighter here, safe.

Relaxed.

He looks to Lola, soft and happy, her hand still in his, and it makes emotion swell in his chest, bubbling up his throat.

“Toriel killed my brother.” He doesn’t know why he says it, she hadn’t invited the conversation, but Lola doesn’t stop him when she turns her attention to him with a frown. The words slip out without his consent, and he just can’t seem to stop talking, “I was like, eighteen.” _Had been selling himself to keep he and Sans afloat,_ “And Toriel figured out I was her Judge.” He shrugged, looking at the beauty below him, “She dusted ‘em. She didn’t need a Judge with an emotional tie, knew I’d always pick my bro over her every time. So, she took him from me.”

He swallows roughly and looks at the beauty that his brother will never see and feels a rare swell of grief.

“I’m sorry.” Her words draw his gaze from the land around them to her soft face, and her sad, sad eyes, and he shivers when he sees his pain echoed back to him.

He looks down and shrugs, “Was a long time ago.” And he tries to not feel the swell of hurt, a wound that was deep and still burning in his soul.

Lola shook her head no, curling her fingers around his hand, “It never stops hurting. It just sucks less some days.” Her smile is bitter, and Glass _wonders._

“Ya lost people too?” he asks hesitantly, knows the answer already as his soul throbs.

Lola nods yes, “Yeah. Lots of people. Whole platoons, friends, and family. Allies and Coven mates.” She shrugs, “Innocent people, whole cities and villages destroyed. It was a long war.”

“Oh.” Because really, what more was there to say then, “I’m sorry.”

Lola nodded and squeezed his hand, “Me to.” And Glass feels his soul warm again, filling his ribcage with sweltering heat that has nothing to do with the summer.

Lola nods, and leans into his shoulder, pressing her cheek against the bone of his upper arm, and Glass stills. That heat increases, and this is not so terrible he decides. This is almost…no, this is nice.

He leans a little into her soft body as well, resting his cheek on the top of her head, and feels calm, “Thanks fer bring’n me out here.”

Lola nods under his skull, “You’re welcome Glass.” She mutters into his shirt.

For a while, its just nice. Calm and relaxing, soothing like he’s never been soothed before. It’s nice to sit here with Lola for a while, and let things be okay.

Or at least, until he remembered why they were there.

The first small body that falls, scares the shit out of Glass, frankly. A small dark blotch falls from the sky, screeching like a banshee on fire, and it makes Glass jerk away from Lola, yanking her back with him in shock.

Lola giggles, presses happily into his warm body, and pats his arm as a second blotch falls from the sky, “Its okay Glass. Look, they’re young dragons out on their first flight.” Her arm stretches out to point at the two small streaks gliding away from the mountain, there tiny wings spread wide as a third falls from the mountain side just before their great mother follows them.

Her shadow blots out the sun, and her teeth are massive and long, and she nods her respect to Lola before she chases after her fluttering children, a fourth hatchling follows her, its tiny wings catching the updraft with a screech.

It makes Lola laugh, and Glass relaxes back into her side, watching the dragons play in the wind. He holds Lola’s hand sweetly and tries not to think how he doesn’t deserve this. That this is too nice, that it was foolish of her to place so much trust him so quickly.

That trust was so ill placed, he was a blood hound, a tool to destroy.

Glass shakes his head, shaking the thoughts away, knows that those are Toriel’s poisoned words. Knows that its not true, and Glass _deserves_ to have nice things too.

He should be allowed to have a nice, soft moment like this and not be afraid that something bad will happen to him.

He leans back into Lola and they watch the dragons play on the air currents.

-

The sun has started to dip the other way, and it’s time to go home; frankly, Glass can’t fucking understand how the mage thinks this is a good plan.

“It’s the quickest way down.” She argues, stuffing her shoes into her pack before she zips it up.

Glass gives her a flat look to hide his own dread, “No, short cutting is the quickest way home. This is fucking stupid.”

Lola flashes him a grin before she carries her bag to the edge of the waterfall, “I told you it’s hot and I was going to jump down the waterfall.”

“I didn’t think ya was serious!” and if Glass sounds a little hysterical, he thinks he’s owed a little bit of leeway.

Lola’s beaming smile hasn’t lessened in any way. She stands easily, carries her heavy pack and tosses it over the edge, and Glass follows it down, down, _down,_ to the water below with his eye lights, “The fall’s not so bad.” She promises, and he doesn’t believe her.

“The fall is what will kill you.” He hisses at her, not irrationally worried about her plan.

Lola rolled her eyes, “I’ve done this a ton. And besides, it’s the sudden stop that kills you.”

“Lola.” He starts roughly when she takes his hand.

“Look, I wouldn’t let you do it, if I thought you’d be hurt.” He tells him, soft like a vow.

That more then anything makes him bend, and he frowns. Fear swells in his soul, and he clings to her hand as she leads him to the ledge, and below is the deep pool of water that will catch them. Lola smiles at him, eyes shining like emeralds, and Glass relaxes as he follows her off the ledge of the cliff.

His soul twists at the feeling of weightlessness, of plunging downward, but Lola has his hand and her eyes are bright with magic. Her laughter follows them downward despite Glass’s terror.

The water is like ice against his bones, cooling the heat and soothing the fear of the fall, and washing away the sweat from his body. Still, Lola clings to his hand as she leads him back to the surface, taking a deep breath despite how the cold slices through their bodies and she laughs when they breech the surface.

Despite the cold water, Glass feels warmed.

-

It’s hours later when they finally get home, their cloths sun dried from their walk. Sure, it had been quicker then the walk up, but it was still _long_ , and Glass’s legs ached from all the exercise.

It hadn’t been a bad walk though, not with Lola’s bright chatter talking about everything and nothing at the same time as she pointed out different plants and animals that inhabited the mountain. Not with the cooler air drying the water from his scared bones, leaving him feeling good.

They trudge along the path that brought them home, and Glass felt soothed, happy when he saw the compound in sight and didn’t even frown when he saw Felix sitting on the back steps smoking.

He grins when he sees them, his smirk knife sharp as he takes a drag, “How’d he do?” he asks as they step around him and up to the back door.

Lola grins brightly, “Oh, he totally cheated.” Glass give her a sharp smirk, “He short cutted up the rock faces. But otherwise did alright for his first time out.”

Felix looks amused, stamping out his smoke as he stands, wiping his hands off his shorts, “Thirty to one.” He sighs, his grin sharp.

Glass’s grin falls and Lola gives her brother a flat look, “Felix, you fell off a rock face your first time out and broke your leg.”

That makes Glass snort, and Felix shrugs unapologetically, “Never did say that I wasn’t great my first time out either.” He gives Glass an amused, slanted look before he snorts and steps inside, “You guys have fun?”

Glass wasn’t sure what that was all about, but he relaxes now to be at Felix’s back. Taking a breath to calm himself, he follows Lola into the building, right behind her brother.

“We did!” she tells him brightly, “We saw a few drakes take their first flight.”

Sloan is making sandwiches in the kitchen when they come in, nodding politely and swatting at Felix’s hands when he tries to steal them.

“That’s good,” he tells them, eyeing up the sandwiches and licking a bit of mustard off his thumb, “Well, I promised to hang out with Wine and Coffee.” He gives them a grin and a wink, “Behave.”

They wave him off as they sit down, Lola swinging her pack down, tucking it under the table, “How was Sin’s first visit with Dr. Tracy?”

Sloan looked up to her sister and sighed, frowning a little at the plate of sandwiches, “Hard.” She admits, “He didn’t tell me much about it, he didn’t want to talk.” Lola nods, and Glass frowns. He doesn’t blame Sin for not wanting to talk about any of it, “He did say that they talked a lot about his Gaster, but that was it.”

Sloan’s eyes shine cyan with anger, magic filling her soul before she’s able to sooth it away, “Anyways. She’s thinking he needs to be on antianxiety medication, maybe antidepressants. She’s sent all her notes to one of the healers in the Coven, we should hear back from them by tomorrow.”

Lola nods, and Glass frowns, “Is Sin alright with you telling us all this?” his words are defensive as something protective swells in his chest.

Sloan smiles at him, soft and kind, appreciating that he was trying to keep Sin safe, “Yes.” She tells him, putting away the items she was using to makes sandwiches, “I asked him what he was okay with me sharing, and this is what he said I could.”

That settles the sharp thing in Glass’s chest, and he relaxes into his chair, “How is he?”

Sloan shrugs, her smile falling a little, “He’s hurting a lot.” She admits, and it makes Glass nod, “He’s very raw about everything, its going to take time for him to be okay.”

Glass nods, looking down as he licks his teeth, “Thanks fer taking care of him.”

Sloan nods again and offers him a smile, “Of course.” She picks up the plate of sandwiches, “So, we’re going to have a quite night up in my room. Nights is with him now,” and that makes Glass grin, “Sin needs some quiet, but come get me if anything happens.”

Both he and Lola nod an affirmative as Sloan tucks bottles of water into her inventory. She pauses at the door, “Lilith and the boys aren’t back yet.” There’s a hint of worry there, “Let me know if she doesn’t come home by the time you go to bed. I know Yule cats can be a bitch to catch, but.” She pauses, “Just in case?”

Lola nods, and gives her sister a tired grin, “I will.” She promises cheerfully, and the tight line of Sloan’s shoulders loosen.

“Thanks, Lols.” She nods politely to Glass and slips from the room. Glass feels something unwind from his chest and knows that she and Nightmare will take care of Sin.

Lola sighs, sounding tired and worn out, “So, guess it’s just us for supper.”

Glass grins, propping his elbow o the table to drop his chin in his hand, “Wanna get Grillby’s?”

It makes Lola laugh, soft like bells, and it makes something warm swell in Glass’s chest. “Alright, lets get Grillby’s.”

“Neat.” Glass tells her brightly, and she softens at his smile, “I know a shortcut.”

-

Glass watches Lola frown at the front door, worrying at her bottom lip. The brown bags from their dinner was already cleared away, their meal eaten hours ago, and still no word from Lilith and the others.

There bellies were full and content, and Glass would have happily showered and bid the mage good night, but her worried expression made him pause. He had no doubts that they were okay, he has seen firsthand what Lilith could do, knew she was protective of them and would keep the others safe.

Glass also didn’t doubt Edge and Red’s abilities, not when they survived Underfell, and _knew_ they were fine. Even to a degree, he trusted Sans. Sure, he hadn’t seen him fight, but he saw his LV and no one got to LV 10 without knowing how to handle themselves.

So, no, Glass wasn’t worried about them, but Lola was and that was the point.

She glanced at the clock on the stove, and her frowned deepened when he blinked back at her that it was eight forty-five. She sifted nervously in her chair and picked at her shorts, “Okay, if they aren’t back by nine, I’ll call her.”

It had been Glass’s suggestion back at seven thirty when Lola was really starting to worry but hunting Yule cats was tricky and she didn’t want to scare them away if Lilith was close to catching one.

Glass nods, leaves the choice up to her, he’s here for support after all, but he’s also ready to go with her if Lola feels like they need to go look for them.

“I’m sure they’re fine.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself rather then him.

“Mhmm.” He agreed with her, picking at his claws. They need to be sharpened.

“I mean, Lilith is a battle mage.” She tells him, “And she has Edge, Red and Sans with her. Each of them on their own would be enough to take care of themselves.”

“They sure can.” He agrees lightly, pulling out a file from his inventory, one of the few items that had been _his_ back from his world, moving it carefully along his claws.

Lola continues to worry at her lip, “I mean, there’s no need to be worried.”

“Probably not.” He agreed softly, and it makes Lola sigh. Glass looks up at her and frowns, “Lola.” Her name draws her eyes to his stiff expression, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

It makes something soften in Lola and her shoulders loosen, “Thanks Glass.” She mutters softly with a nod, “You’re probably right.”

Glass nods in agreement and settles back to sharpen his claws. Lola still looks worried, and it makes something heavy settle in his soul. “Besides, if anything tried to fuck wit ‘em, I think Lilith would gut it. And, the boys will protect her.”

She finally looked away from the door, and her smile is a little more genuine. It makes Glass feel good, feel warm inside his chest and he quickly looks down to sharpen his claws as a blush scalds his face. “Thanks Glass.” She tells him softly again, and the soft words make his face burn.

“Yer welcome.” He tells her gruffly, trying to sink into his heavy bomber, quietly wishing that it had a heavy hood that he could hide in.

Lola gives him an impossibly soft look, her smile bright that makes him feel warm.

The front door opens finally at eight fifty-five, drawing that soft look away from Glass, and he’s relieved that the impossibly soft look isn’t directed on him anymore. Still, part of him misses the heat, the soft look that makes him feel _special_.

Lola breaths a sigh of relief when she hears the front door close, and the shuffle of shoes being toed off, “Hey,” she called out, “you guys ok...” Lola’s voice stopped dead like she hit a brick wall, and it makes Glass look up, his jaw falling open.

“What the hell happened!” Lola all but gasped, and a flicker of amusement splashed through Glass’s soul at the sight of their four missing members trudging into the kitchen.

Lilith levels a glare as she stalks angrily into the room, tacking mud behind her and she shakes her head at them. The front of her is covered in mud, and it’s drying and flaking off, leaving a trail behind her.

The others behind her are in varying stats of disarray that make Glass slowly grin at the three of them; Edge is covered in some kind of wet, thick muck that looked like its from a bog from the waist down while the rest of him is wet. Sans follows in behind him, covered in the same weird bog mud from the collar down but one foot is dirtier then the other, like he lost a shoe.

Red’s wearing a completely different outfit then what he left in that morning, one that doesn’t fit him well and he smells mildly like a strange mix of heavy, rotting onion and the chemically smell of burning tires. He’s looking just as miserable as the others despite being the only one who’s _clean._

The three shuffle in behind her, each pulling out a chair to plop unhappily into it, and Red’s fore head hits the table with a groan.

Glass stifles a laugh, but only barely, as Lola’s wide eyes glance to each of them.

“Lilith,” Lola gasps out, the start of an amused grin curling at the corners of her mouth. She stalls when Lilith makes a noise in her throat, shaking her head no again as she fishes four glasses from the cupboard and sets each of them down.

“Lilith.” Lola tries again as Lilith goes back to the fridge, pulling out four cans of coke and a bottle of rum. Again, Lilith shakes her head no and makes the same, low noise in the back of her throat, holding up a finger to silence her sister.

Amused, Lola’s teeth click shut, and they watch as Lilith pours each of them a hefty shot of dark rum into their glasses, and collapses down into her chair, more mud flaking off her body heavily.

The four of them don’t say a thing, just shoot it back without a flinch, tapping their glasses on the table twice before Lilith goes to make them each a drink.

At her sisters smooth, even movements, Lola finally asks, “Are you guys okay?”

They each sigh, and Lilith’s frown deepens, “We’re not hurt.” She affirms.

It makes Lola grin, “Right.” She glances to each of them, each looking more worn out then the last, three of them filthy like Lola had never seen, “What happened?”

They each sigh again, and it’s Lilith who starts the tale, “Well. We found the Yule cats.” The three skeletons all shiver, and curse the name of the cats, “The mother had made a nest in the new barn Mac put up. Catching her was easy enough, and we managed to get her into the back of the Jeep without trouble.”

Lilith sighed irritably, and finally her muddy face looked to her sister, “We kept it running to keep her cool and safe. We got her water, but she was losing her shit since we hadn’t grabbed the kittens yet. Honestly, she would’ve gotten out if my Jeep had it not been charmed like it is, but my interior is fucked.”

They all sigh again, and Lola bites her lip to hide her smirk. Glass doesn’t bother to hide his own, and it’s bright and sharp, he’s enjoying this.

“Well, she had six fucking kittens we had to track down.” She licked her teeth, and she huffed a sigh, “Well we found the first one under a tracker, poor little thing flipped out when we tried to use blue magic to pull it out, so we need to get it manually. So fucking Red says, he’ll go!”

Red cringes, but doesn’t say anything, bitterly drinking his rum and coke as Lilith continued, “Well, he gets his hands on the fucking thing, and it. Loses. It’s. Shit. The kitten goes ballistic, and we can’t get to Red, since he’s under the fucking tractor.” She rolls her eyes, and huffs, “So he stuffs the thing up his shirt and traps the kitten in his rib cage. Where it continues to go ape shit.”

Glass smiles now, wide, and amused, “Ain’t ya ticklish in the ribs?”

Red sighs but won’t meet his eye lights, his jaw tightens, and he can see his socket tick. Lilith levels a flat look at him, “Yeah. He fucking is. Sans had to use blue magic to drag Red out, since he couldn’t pull himself out and Red was laughing so hard Edge and I had to carry him back to the Jeep to get the kitten out of his rib cage.”

It makes Lola grin, and Glass grins wider, loving the idea of Red giggling and laughing helplessly as a small, furry mammal ran amok in his ribs.

“Well then, we get the kitten outta Red’s shirt and into the Jeep, where it and mom continue to tare my interior apart. But, they’re safe in the Jeep with the AC on, so fuck it, and off we go to track the next one.” Lilith’s voice is starting to edge into something a little higher pitched, and she huffed, “Well we find the next one stuck in a tree, over a fucking ledge that drops like, twenty feet into a lake.”

This time, it’s Edge that sighs, and it makes Glass chuckle as Lilith continues, “Well I’m too fucking heavy for the branch to hold me. Sans and Red are too short to reach the kitten, and it freaks every time we try to use blue magic. So off Edge goes.”

Edge sighs again, and there’s an almost smirk on Sans’s face. Lilith takes another mouthful of her drink before she continues, wiping the mud from her face with her equally muddy hand, “So he fucking makes it to this frightened little kitten, it's all calm as hell, and he brings it back. And _literally_ as he’s handing the kitten to Sans, the fucking tree breaks and Edge falls the fucking twenty feet into the lake.” 

Glass barely has the time to suppress his laugh that time, one that draws Edge’s less then amused look to him. Lilith huffs, “Oh, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” She tells him hotly, “Once we realized that Edge wasn’t fucking dead, and for a bit, we thought he was, we took the kitten back to the Jeep.” 

She sighs and shakes her head, dry mud flaking from her face, “Kitten three we managed to track all the way to the fucking bog just outside of the farm.” Amusement fills Glass and he glances to Sans, still covered in the thick, greenish bog mud as Lilith continues, “We can see it. It’s right there. So, Sans short cuts to the tree, picks it up, then proceeds to fall out of said tree!”

Sans sighs, looking a little pained, “Yeah, look. I slipped, okay?”

Lilith takes a breath and closes her eyes, “At least you fell feet first.” She takes another breath and opens her eyes to look at Glass and Lola, “So here’s Sans, stuck up to his chest in a bog, the kitten held _up_ over his head. So, it’s fucking safe.”

“Oh.” Glass chuckled, barely swallowing his laugh, “At least there’s that.” Sounding every shade of amused.

They all give him a flat look. Lilith’s voice is a little airier in her annoyance, “So, fun fact. You can’t short cut if your stuck.” Glass grins at her irritation, “Same reason that Sans can’t get lose if I use a gravity spell. You have to be able to fucking move.” She spits, “So Sans can’t short cut, and he’s stuck so well Red can’t pull him out with blue magic.”

Glass is loving this story, his eye lights glancing to Edge and the bog mud that covers the lower half of his body. “So,” Lilith spits, talking with her hands, “Edge goes into the bog to pull him the fuck out. Edge is tallest, so in he fucking goes. Pulls Sans out and has to carry both he and kitten out of the fucking bog.”

“It stunk.” Edge grumbles moodily, and it makes Glass grin.

“And I lost a shoe to the bog.” Sans is equally as moody, and now Glass can see the mucky handprints on Edge’s shoulders. It makes him grin sharply, so very amused.

Lilith sighs, and takes another mouthful of her drink. “So, kitten number four has squashed itself under a shed on the farm. So, Red figures he’s already done the under the tractor thing, decides he better do under the shed thing too. Trouble is,” and she looks so terribly annoyed by this, “There’s a fucking skunk under the shed. Kitten comes darting out and fucking jumps into Sans’s arms as the skunk gets enough leverage to lift its tail and sprays Red in the face a point-blank range!” she rolls her eyes, “Point blank!”

Lola covers her mouth to hide her smile, but Glass doesn’t bother to hide his deeply amused chuckles, “Well. That explains the chemical smell.”

Lilith’s eye twitched. “Yeah. We had to get the kitten into the Jeep, then strip him the fuck down. Thank fucking Fate Sans was able to find some fucking skunk out. But we had to scrub him down in a fucking wooden barrel that Mac let us have, and only had cold water to fill it up with.”

Red huffs, looking absolutely miserable about that fact, grinding his teeth. Glass doesn’t bother trying to hide his growing laughter, “This is the greatest story ever.” He giggles, drawing an annoyed look from Red.

“Glad yer enjoying it.” He spits.

Glass nods, his voice high around his giggles, “Where the hell did you find him cloths.”

“I went to the second-hand store and found him something close to his size.” Sans tells him, just as annoyed as all the others, but the ice in his face has broken a little and an amused grin is starting to curl around Sans’s mouth.

It makes Glass laugh harder, “Ya went inta a store covered in _bog_ mud?”

They all look at him, and shrug.

Lilith sighed, “Kitten five was in a hole of a tree. After I got it free, I was attacked by a raccoon that lived there and fell face first into the mud trying to get away from it.”

Edge sighs beside her, downing the rest of his rum and coke, “At least it wasn’t bog mud.”

Lilith doesn’t disagree and shakes her head, “Kitten six we had to search for it for three and a half hours. Three and a half! Wanna know where it was?”

“Yes!” Glass gasps between laughter, and fuck, he’s loving this.

Lilith leaned forward, face full of anger, “On the top of my Jeep. Just sitting there. Waiting for us to let it in with its mother.”

That makes Glass laugh even harder and Lilith shakes her head, “Then! We had to drive these fucking Yule cats up the mountain to release her! But they’ve destroyed the back seat of my jeep, so we all had to cram togeather in the front bucket seats.”

“Why,” Glass is laughing so hard he can barely get the words out, “Why didn’t Red and Sans just come home?”

Red sets his jaw, and Sans is starting to look more and more amused, “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

It makes Glass laugh harder, makes him feel light and wanted, apart of a thing. Yet, this is the funniest shit he’s heard in days, “That’s awesome.”

All four of them give him a flat look with varying degrees of heat, but it makes Glass laugh harder.

“Okay,” Lola says kindly, her smile a little more hidden then his, “Would you guys like something from Grillby’s? I’m sure Glass wouldn’t mind popping back to pick up something to eat.”

They all nod, “Thank you Lola.” Lilith sighs, finishing her drink.

Lola pulls out her phone, still glancing to Glass as he laughs before she asks, “Edge, would you like something else? I know your not a fan.”

Edge sighs and rubs at his temple tiredly, “A cheeseburger is fine.” He sighs, looking a little miserable, “Thank you Lola.” Fucking nerd that he was, still polite as ever.

Lola nods, and opens the app. She already knows what the other’s preferences are and gets to ordering for them, an amused grin on her face.

It’s Lilith who breaks first, planting her head on the table to stifle her sudden laughter, her muddy arms curling over her head as she wheezes out, “What a fucking disaster.”

It makes Sans grin wider and Red cracks a smile.

“That fucking little bitch of a mother,” Red tells them suddenly, “even looked back at us when we released her, as if to say, ‘fuck you’ before she lead her kittens down the trail, acting like she owns the fucking forest.”

It makes Lilith suddenly laugh harder at the ridiculous of it all, “She probably does.” She giggled from the table.

It makes Sans grin wider, and giggle.

It all makes Glass laugh harder, and even Edge cracked a smile.

Something soft and warm fills Glass’s soul, and it sooths him in ways he doesn’t think he’s ever been soothed before. He’s not sure if it’s the laughter or the ridiculousness of their story, or if it’s something else all together. Maybe the nice day he had with Lola, but he can’t be sure.

Glass likes it, he thinks.

It’s…nice. That’s what he’s feeling. Nice. He glances to Lola, deeply amused and grinning into her phone, all soft kindness and brutal strength, and it makes Glass feels warm in his soul. Like its bubbling from his core, and spreads down to his fingertips. Good, he feels good here, and he likes it.

Glass doesn’t think he can remember a time that he had nice, and think’s he’d very much like to keep it.


	25. Midnight: The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix is having trouble sleeping. Wine helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Another offering to you all, and I hope you enjoy this one. This is a shorter chapter, but I'm really happy with how it turned out. I really struggled with this one and hit a pretty big writers block with this chapter and the following one, so I hope you enjoy. The following three chapter (this one, plus the next two) are all of the same night, told from different perspectives. 
> 
> The next four chapters will be the last of the fluffy stuff for a while, and we're heading back into rougher waters. 
> 
> In the mean time, enjoy the fluff but please be sure to read the warnings :) 
> 
> WARNING: description of war/the mages civil war, mild description of death, murder, blood, broken bones, mild to sever description of child abuse, unethical experimentation and treatment of a child.

Laying back in his bed, Felix stares at the dark ceiling and tires to suppress a sigh. It’s one of those nights when the moon has been swallowed up by the sky, casting purple shadows over the earth below, and the silence feels heavy with hidden secrets.

 _It’s the perfect night to launch an attack_ his mind supplies unhelpfully. Its dark and humid, the kind of air that would hide heavy magic, and the shadows are the kind that would swallow whole Company’s of attacking battle mages. Fate knows that he and Lilith had lead more then their fair share of attacks on nights like this, knowing they would shed blood in the worse ways possible, and if they were lucky, they’d get to leave with part of their soul intact. 

It’s the kind of night that has Felix wired even after eighty years of peace, always on edge and anticipating an attack. For as much as they used the night, so had their enemy, and he still bore the scares of those attacks that had killed his friends.

Especially early on, when it looked as if they might lose the war, before younger generations rose through the ranks and drastically changed the style of battle. Sometimes, if he allowed himself to dwell on it, he could still smell the smoke of the fire that was set when they were under their worse attack. So many of them had died, slaughtered by the dozen like helpless lambs by attacking battle mages turned demons by the Durham Coven. It was the night that Felix and his siblings had taken their call signs of the four horsemen of the apocalypse and carved a blood path to freedom, saving those they could.

When the elders had their throats torn out, and the older battle mages were left with their souls shattered and bodies broken, it had been the young mages who had taken up arms. Some how the chain of command had landed on them, and they had raised to the occasion in a spectacular show of blood shed and brutality.

It had been his newly found Den that had stood tall against the onslaught and protected those even younger then themselves. They had stood against the hordes of the deranged, and although they did not come away victorious, they came away alive. That counted for more, if anyone bothered to ask Felix.

They lost that base to the Durham warriors that night, but he, Lilith, Sloan, Ryder, and Lola had smuggled four whole squads of mages out of the burning fortress, and they managed to pull back passed the enemy to make it back to their Covens. The blood shed they had left behind had become a thing of legend, the night Pandora saved those squads and murdered anything in their way.

The truth of it was, they had all been terrified of dying, and the brutality of survival was their only option, and they had raked up the EXP that night to live. They still bore the scars of that night on their skin, and Felix can feel the old scars in his back itch when he thinks about it.

They had lost a lot that night, lost so many friends regardless of what they gained. It had been the start of their reputation, the first time they had descended into their LV to get the others out. Yet, when he closed his eyes on nights like this, Felix could still see his commander having her throat torn out by the massive jaws of a shadowy demon, could still hear her gurgling cry as she choked on her own blood as she told him to run.

He could still see her second having his spine pulled out through his stomach, could see his magic weakly trying to pull himself back together before one of the demons crushed his skull, then soul for good measure.

It didn’t matter that the Pandora Den had been praised for their quick thinking and escape. It didn’t matter that two years later, Lilith would lead the assault team that took that fortress back with a brutality that it had been taken with. None of that mattered when they lost so many of their own.

So, Felix didn’t sleep well on nights when the moon was gone, and the air was heavy. Could hardly find peace to _relax_ when the moon wasn’t out, and everything in him itched to go patrol the compound. It’s ridiculous, he _knows_ , but battle instinct had kept him alive for years and it’s hard to ignore.

He knows his paranoia is unfounded, he knows the likely hood of something getting near the compound without them knowing, is slim to none. He knows because Sloan layered protective spells all around their land, and the compound had spells that would activate if the magic sensed danger. He knows he and Lilith laid traps, and layered their protective intent into the land, and the gates and the compound.

It didn’t fucking matter, not when his head was running in circles with panic.

Groaning, Felix kicks off his sweat soaked sheet, and sits up. He knows it’s pointless, he’s not going to sleep tonight, and he should just accept it and do something productive with his newfound insomnia. Like, check the gates and the traps. Maybe even make sure that the spells are still on point, make sure that nothing was in the compound.

You know, normal things.

Huffing, Felix swung his legs over the side of his bed, rubbing tiredly at his forehead before he pushes himself to his feet. Stalking to the nightstand, he pulls out a pair of soft black exercise shorts and slips them on over his tight fitting boxers. They hide the brutal scars on his thighs, most of them from his time with the Durham Coven before his Den had found him.

He doesn’t like to think of his time before Lilith discovered him on the battlefield, but this seems to be a shitty night to reminisce the bullshit in his life. Being tortured as a child was something he tried to block out venomously, so naturally it was bubbling to the surface of his mind for him to deal with on top of everything else.

Pulling up the soft shorts, Felix pulls the waist band up just under his belly button, his stomach flat and muscular, and the material hides the vicious scar on his lower belly where the mages of the Blood Blossom Den eviscerated him.

It hurt then, it hurt now, if it were to happen again, but their whole _plan_ had been to get him to embrace pain so he could keep fighting. He didn’t get how yanking out the guts of a terrified child would help him embrace that kind of pain. Personally, Felix did his best to avoid that kind of pain as much as he could, but what did he know really.

Even the demon thought that was a fucked-up thing to do to his vessel, not that his mother’s Den had cared. Eh well, he was still here, and he saw to it himself that his mother’s Den, the Blood Blossom, had been wiped off the face of the earth, so, fair. He guesses.

Sighing, Felix reaches for a black, sleeveless work out top, thinks that maybe he should schedule some more time with Dr. Tracy this month when he feels it. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, as if there’s something near his door. Something quiet, yet something that didn’t mean him harm, if the intent was right.

Taking a breath, Felix settles his burning instinct, soothes his soul and can guess who would come looking for him at this time of night. Delight fills Felix, and he feels warm and giddy about it. Happy.

Wine didn’t come to see him for his body, not really, Wine came to see him because he _liked_ Felix. He liked to sleep next to Felix. Felix was warmth and safety, and stupid jokes that Wine pretended not to laugh at.

Wine was someone wonderful, who chose _him_.

Almost giddy, Felix crumples his tank top in his rough hands, and tires not to remember the bad things that are leeching into his mind and crosses his room to the door. He knows that Wine won’t come in uninvited, but it’s not like Felix would ever tell him to go away.

Even tonight when he’s feeling a little unsteady and uncertain.

Pulling open the door, Felix grins when Wine doesn’t startle, simply looks up at him mildly with a shallow smirk; he’d been coming long enough to sleep next to Felix that he knew that he would be sensed long before he even lifted his fist to knock at the door. This is hardly the first time Felix has opened the door for him before that first rap of his knuckles against the wood.

Felix loosens when he looks down at the small monster, feels something soothed inside his chest, eased in a way that even his brother and sisters couldn’t for him. It’s the same way that Sans eases Lilith when she’s having a bad day and Papyrus gentles that something dark inside of Ryder, and it’s something that Felix isn’t ready to really investigate too deeply.

Wine holds his gaze, sockets lined with dark purplish smudges, making him look so much more tired then he actually was. Felix couldn’t understand how Wine always looked so tired, always so exhausted, and wondered if stress had more to do with it.

Felix pauses as he studies Wine, his head titling as he drinks in the sight of the thin monster before him, delighted and pleased that he’s here tonight. Usually, Wine wouldn’t meet Felix’s eyes when he came to Felix, ashamed and needing _something_ although he couldn’t ever say what. He was always quite and malleable when he curled into Felix’s chest, accepting the comfort that Felix gave so willingly, never one to fight as Felix’s arm went around his shoulders.

Something’s different tonight, and it perks Felix’s interest, and its something to distract him from the dark as Wine stares up at him boldly with squared shoulders. He’s confident somehow, sure of himself in a way that Felix hasn’t seen before, and he _likes_ it. He likes this confidence despite how tired Wine looks, it warms something in his chest, and it feels like affection maybe. Something soft, and slowly, Felix relaxes.

Wine’s hands are tucked neatly behind his lower back, and despite how he still wears his neat, if too long scarf, he’s dressed in soft black pants and a t-shirt. It’s almost looks too casual on him, but somehow Wine can make it look _refined._

Felix snorts to himself, knowing that’s how he would describe a glass of wine.

Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Felix leans against the door jam and the purple shadows behind Wine make Felix tense again. He’s half expecting something to come taring from the dark to attack them from behind, to snap Wine’s small body in half. He’s so fragile looking, his bones thinner then even Sans’s, it wouldn’t take much pressure, and he’d be dust on the wind, just gone, gone, _gone._

Felix shoves the thought away. They’re safe, they’re fine. Wine’s safe.

He strives for nonchalant when he grins down at the monster, hopes that his fear is not on his face, “Hey Wine.”

The sharp tooth mouth pulls into an instant frown, “Felix.” He sounds as cordial as ever, if not a little more certain of himself and Felix can’t help but melt a little, feeling something warm in his lower belly at this newfound confidence.

Wine’s head tilts, and the crimson of his scarf falls over his slim shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Felix tries to grin at him, his smirk is a little too wide and sharp, and it does nothing but make Wine narrow his crimson eye light on him. Felix isn’t fooling anyone, not even himself, but no one can say he didn’t try, “I’m fine.” He’s not fine, its way too dark and hot, and Felix doesn’t like it, “Why?”

Wine squints, “You’re very tense this evening.” There’s no argument there, just a straight observation, his words not unkind but blunt.

Felix falls back to what he knows best, and grins sharply at Wine, magic gleaming in his eye briefly, “I’m…” the convenient lie is not even out of his lips when there’s noise at to the other end of the hall, where it’s so dark, the shadows can swallow bodies whole and threats lurk.

Felix is moving before he’s even aware of the action, snarling low in his throat as he pulls Wine bodily into his room, his murky eyes bursting with gold as magic fills him so suddenly that is snaps at his fingers and a heavy battle axe is in his hand.

Wine stills behind him as Felix shifts himself physically out in front, shoulders hunched and body tense as if readying for a fight. The noise in the hall is soft, and Wine feels his own magic spurt at his fingers in an automatic response, if something has Felix nervous, one would do well to pay attention.

The noise is soft, and when Wine realizes that its footsteps, he releases his hold over his magic just as Lilith shuffles into view, rubbing her eyes sleepily with the back of her hand.

She stops dead when she feels Felix’s intent and viscous magic, her head snapping up, and her own magic reacts to his, making her eyes gleaming crimson. Wine sucks in a breath at their weird stand off, neither wanting to be the first to move and trigger an attack.

Its Lilith who moves first, easing down from her defensive posture to look more neutral, spreading her hands to show she didn’t have a weapon. Wine snorts, like she isn’t a _living_ weapon, but it seems to make Felix feel better.

He eases back as well, loosening a little and Lilith’s voice is rough with sleep, “You good?”

Blinking at her, Felix grins but it’s tight around his eyes, and he tightens his grip on his axe. His body is still tense and tight as a coiled wire, “Sure. I’m fine.”

Lilith looks at him, her bright eyes flicking to the summoned axe still in his hand as he acts as if he weren’t holding it at all, before she looks back to his face, “Right.” She glances to Wine, and he quietly shakes his head no to her, and she instantly looks back to Felix, “You wanna go check the perimeter?”

A part of Felix, a very small part, a spiteful part, is bitter that Lilith wasn’t bothered by the dark like he is. Its angry she thrived in it, never hesitated when there was no light, always the level headed one, always the one who never hesitated, and embraced the dark in ways he never could.

Its unfair, Felix knows. Just because Lilith wasn’t afraid of the moonless nights and the dark like he was, didn’t mean she didn’t have a _thing_. It was just her thing was different from his thing.

Felix forces himself to relax, “No.” he snaps at her, and she raises a brow at his waspish tone.

He rolls his eyes at her, “I’m fine.” He doesn’t dismiss his magic, the glow from it makes him feel a little better, “The fuck you do’n up any ways?”

Lilith makes a face at him, frowning with a shrug, “I’m thirsty.” The _duh_ is unspoken, but that doesn’t mean Felix doesn’t hear it and he winces inwardly.

They stare at each other a beat long before Lilith lets go of her magic completely, and Felix hates how he can’t see her face as the light from her eyes is snuffed out, plunging her back into darkness. “Well.” She says slowly from the dark, taking a careful step towards the stairs, “I’m getting my water and going back to bed.” She pauses, “Good night Felix.”

Huffing at his sister, Felix rolls his eyes, “Night.” And if he snaps the door to his room shut a little harder, well no one says anything about it.

Felix can feel Wine’s concerned eye light on him, burning on the back of his neck, and he almost dreads tuning around to his single working eye light. Felix takes a breath, feels a drop of sweat trickle down the back of his neck and turns around, bracing for his furrowed brow and worried eye light, “Are you alright Felix?”

He lets out a breath through his teeth and dismisses his axe, plunging them both back into darkness, but he can still see the outline of Wine’s skull in the dark, and he relaxes, “Yeah, sorry.” He shifts, “Listen, if you’d rather sleep in your own room tonight.” His voice peters out with a shrug and gets it. He’s not in a good place, and Wine shouldn’t loose out on sleep because he can’t get over his fear of the dark.

His soul swells when Wine gives him a weird look and huffs at him, crossing his thin arms over his ribs, “Your issues hardly warrant me leaving.” He spits, wincing at how that sounds, “Unless you’d rather I go.”

The thought makes Felix feel sick. The thought of being alone when there’s no moon makes him remember shitty things, makes him hurt and feel blood on his skin that he’d washed away years ago.

He shakes his head no, “It’s fine.” His voice is rough, and if it’s a little thicker then normal, Wine doesn’t say anything.

Wine nods, rocking gently on his toes, “Would you prefer to check the perimeter? I would come with you.” He says it gently, and if it makes Felix feel better, he would pull on his high heeled boots and follow him out.

Felix frowns, looking miserable when he shakes his head no, “Listen, Wine.” And his soul hurts how dismal he sounds, “I’m not in a good way tonight. I don’t know if I can.” He pauses, and sighs, “I’m not gonna be a great cuddle buddy tonight.”

Wine’s head tilts, and he gives Felix a neutral look, “No, I suppose you’re not.” He agrees as if this is all completely normal, and Felix feels his soul press inward, hurting like a bruise, “But,” and he hesitate, his eye light gleaming brightly, “Perhaps I can be a better one for you.”

Felix’s head slowly lifts, his mouth pulling into a small frown, his hands worrying at the waist band of his shorts, running his thumb along the elastic band. He drops his eyes, can’t see where his black tank top had dropped to the floor, and it’s so dark, the shadows so deep in his own room.

Wine sees the shiver, knows fear when he sees it. He’s from a Fell world, he knows what trauma looks like.

Slowly, moving carefully, a clawed hand reaches out to take Felix’s hand, drawing murky yellow eyes back up to his sockets, “Come along Felix. Let’s lay down.”

A long, slow breath is released in a hiss through Felix’s teeth, his fingers curling lightly around Wine’s sharpened claws, and he follows along quietly back to his bed. It hardly took any pressure to tug Felix along, but he came willingly across the room.

It’s a role reversal that Felix doesn’t mind, the thing about Den mates was you got to lean on them too. Battle mages didn’t have to always be the tough ones, and sometimes they where the ones that needed to be protected.

If that meant they got to be protected by tiny, fragile looking skeletal monsters, so be it. Wine survived a Fell world, something that was no easy feat, and Felix would trust Wine to keep him safe if he needed to.

Felix is lead to his bed and encouraged down. It didn’t take a whole lot of urging to get him to lay down, his head falling to Wine’s ribs, sighing softly as he relaxes. Wine’s soul hums softly behind his rib cage, and it’s different from listening to a human’s heartbeat. His bones are warm through his shirt, hard against Felix’s cheek, but the buzzing of his magic is a thing of comfort.

Moving slowly, Wine sinks his sharp claws into the thick dark hair of his mohawk, his claws scratching lightly at his buzzed scalp. Felix sighs again, closes his eyes and sinks into the experience and enjoys being held. The butterflies start up in his belly like never before, and Felix is desperate to ignore it.

“Would you like to speak about it?” Wine’s voice is a balm to his soul, and Felix clenches his eye shut tighter. He tries not to smell smoke that isn’t there or hear screaming that has died years ago.

“Not really.” Felix’s voice is softer then usual, and from his soul the demon stirs before he’s soothed back to sleep, “I just don’t like the moon dying.”

Wine pauses, his mouth parting a little in understanding, and his claws still in Felix’s hair, before he mutters softly, “Oh. Well that’s easily fixed.”

Head still resting on Wine’s chest, Felix can feel the buzz of magic being summoned and he cracks an eye open in time to see a summoned bone construct shoot up through his floor. Its large, with rounded, bulbous tops and throws off a soft, pleasant glow of crimson magic. The light from Wine’s magic chases away the shadows, brightens the room as it casts crimson around softly and Felix _loosens_.

He melts against Wine’s smaller frame, his arms slowly going around his rib cage lightly, and he snuggles in. The hand at his head continues its soft scratching of his buzzed scalp, and for a while they just are.

They enjoy each others presence, and slowly, ever so slowly, Felix starts to drift off. His words are slurring with sleep, but Felix manages to get it out, “Thanks. Sorry I’m being stupid tonight.”

Wine pauses again, and briefly, so very brief, Felix feels the pulse of annoyance in his magic before it’s soothed away, “Who ever told you that processing trauma is stupid is an asshole.”

Felix snorts, his words are spat with such venom, such _sass_ that Felix adores it, “You sound like my therapist.”

Wine shrugs, resuming his gentle petting, “Everyone has a thing Felix.” Wine couldn’t usually sleep a full night, Coffee had crippling anxiety, and Felix was afraid of the dark. 

“Still not exactly suave.” Felix mutters darkly, burying his face into Wine’s chest a little more, “I’m usually much better at flirting. I promise, I’m not such a needy fuck.”

Shifting, Wine feels something heavy fill his chest, something like dread. Fear that someone has hurt this wild, silly battle mage, “Felix.” He tells him slowly, “I don’t come to see you for your body.” He pauses and shrugs, “I don’t think you’re a needy fuck.”

“I know.” The misery in Felix’s voice makes something hurt in Wine’s soul. Makes if feel heavy with sadness, makes if feel hot with anger. “But everyone I’ve ever liked did.” It’s a hurtful admission spoken softly in the middle of the night.

It makes Wine frown, “Well,” he starts, feeling heat in his chest, “They’re clearly idiots for thinking that.”

Felix hums as his eyes close, and his cheek is smooshed against the dark fabric of Wine’s soft shirt, “Thanks.” His voice is uncharacteristically small as he listens to Wine’s soul hum softly.

“You’re welcome Felix.” He’s told gently, sharp claws so careful against the delicate skin of Felix’s scalp, and for a while, Felix lets himself be held in the soft glow of Wine’s magic. Felix listens to the hum of his soul, feels the magic in his bones, and accepts the comfort that Wine’s soul hesitantly offered.

It was…nice.

Nice to be held, for once, to not have to be on guard the whole time. It’s nice to feel the soft press and song of Wine’s soul song against his own, even if Wine has no idea, he’s doing it. It’s sweet enough that even the demon soothes and purrs with satisfaction.

It’s quiet and dark when Felix finally says, so quiet that Wine almost misses it, “It was a night like this that my very first base was slaughtered.” That was all he said, all Felix could say, but Wine didn’t need him to elaborate.

He also didn’t try to placate Felix’s fears with fake, flowery words or false comfort, instead Wine held him and gave Felix the space to talk. Should he choose to.

Felix decided, he didn’t want to. Some wounds had healed ragged and raw, and were better left unprovoked by someone who wasn’t their therapist. 

“How come you came to see me?” Felix mummers against his t shirt, “You don’t seem upset tonight.”

It’s an unfair question, Wine had come to visit with Felix at night even when he hadn’t been plagued by nightmares. Wine had grown fond of sleeping next to Felix, feeling his warm, muscular body around his own, his heavy arm draped over his chest had become a thing of comfort.

Felix’s jokes had also helped sooth any awkwardness away, always so welcoming when Wine came to sleep in his bed.

Still, Wine doesn’t take offense.

“I came to apologize actually.” He admits quietly, again allowing Felix to lead the conversation.

The mage pauses, and Wine can hear the confusion, “Apologize?”

Wine nods, remembers that Felix can’t seem him with his head tucked into his ribs, “Yes.”

Felix pauses again, his rough fingers running along the edge of Wine’s ribs, it makes him shiver, “For what?”

“I almost kissed you.” The words are softly spoke, and it takes Felix longer then he would want to admit to, to remember what the hell Wine is talking about.

“Oh.” The time in their kitchen turned war room seemed so long ago now. The days while they were trying to find a way to Sin, sitting close to Wine, their shoulders bumping as they turned the pages of books that would hopefully be the key to getting through the shield.

Felix remembers their mouth’s so close together, the feeling of Wine’s warm breath over his lips, how lovely that felt, “Wait, why’r you sorry?” and Felix sounds genuinely confused.

Wine shifts, keeping his hands careful on Felix’s body, “It was inappropriate.” He explains quietly, “We were in a high stress situation and emotions were running hot. It was unfair of what I did and tried to pressure you into something you didn’t want to do.”

Shock rippled through Felix, stunned at the admission spoken so softly in the dark and it soothed something sharp in Felix’s soul. Something hurt, something that thought he was unloved. It was enough to distract him from the dark, purple shadows that were creeping around the compound, “What?” Felix can’t hide his shock as he pushes himself up, his mouth too close to Wine’s, staring into the pretty crimson eye light of his scared face, “Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?”

Wine blinks at him, “It was inappropriate.” He says again, slower this time as if it was a normal thing to say, and it warms Felix further.

The butterflies in his belly go wild at the thought that Wine was concerned about his propriety.

“Wait, why was it inappropriate?” Felix asks, genuinely amused, his voice softening with it.

Wine’s crimson eye light shines brightly like a star, his hand moving to the back of Felix’s head to cup it, “It just was. With everything that was happening.”

“Wine,” Felix starts, thinking how pretty his eye light is, “I’m a battle mage. Just before something tragic is usually the kick in the ass we need to admit we _like_ someone. Kissing me in that scenario would be pretty on brand for me.”

Wine huffed a sigh, “Felix, I shouldn’t assume that you would _want_ to kiss me. That’s what’s inappropriate.”

Felix blink at him, groans and drops his head into Wine’s lap, and internally preens when Wine continues to scratch at the back of his head with sharp claws. With his face hidden, and his voice muffled, Felix managed to mutter out, “I think you’re cute. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Wine goes stiff, and Felix makes a noise of disappointment when the scratching at his head stops, “But I’m a monster.” As if that would be an excuse as to why Felix wouldn’t like Wine.

“A cute monster.” Felix is quick to counter, voice still muffled.

“You could do better.” Wine muttered, feeling his soul sink despite the white-hot hope.

Felix snorts, lifting himself back up to look back into Wine’s pretty eye light, “I doubt it.” He grins, sharp and amused at Wine’s delicate snort, “My last partner tried to kill me. She set off a bomb in the winter marketplace and nearly killed me, Lili, Sans and Frisk.” He pauses, and glances up with a nod, “And anyone in our vicinity actually. Only reason she didn’t get away with it is because of Frisk and Sans.”

He shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal, as if Felix does this shit every other Sunday, and to be fair, he kinda had for a while.

Wine thinks it’s a big deal.

He stared blankly at Felix for a long moment, mouth slightly agape before he ground his sharp teeth together. His eye light was suddenly snuffed out, making Felix shutter at the sudden darkness in Wine’s skull, before the other one erupted hotly in his damaged, blinded socket. 

The five-point star burned from its socket like something from the Nether, hot and vicious with powerful magic that only gave Felix a glimpse at the pool of power Wine had. The star moved in a tight circle like a target in Wine’s socket, and Felix can feel the anger burning in his bones. The whole thing sends a tingle down Felix’s spine and arousal to flood his belly with the butterflies. 

It’s _hot,_ Felix decided, to see Wine riled like this, and his grin sharpens a little despite the unexpected fondness that filled his soul.

“What?” Wine’s voice comes out in a harsh, angry hiss, and Felix is honestly surprised steam hasn’t started to come out his ears with how irate he is.

Felix gives him an easy shrug, “Yeah, that happened. It was a mess too since we were supposed to be allies. Then her sister and part of her Den fucked off to our territory, and that’s why we have Nadia’s Den in on our side.” He shrugged again, but it didn’t lessen Wine’s anger, “Anyways, Sans killed her like a bad ass. So. Alls well that ends well.”

“Felix.” Wine starts, sounding exasperated and almost annoyed, but Felix doesn’t think its at him.

Felix grins, “I’m not dead.” He shrugs, “Point is. You’d make a better mate then,” he pauses to consider, “At least my last dozen partners.”

The star fades from the cracked socket, and the hard, round eye light returns. Softer somehow, the magic kinder then the star, and Felix likes it. “That’s…that’s not good Felix.”

Shrugging, Felix gives him a knife sharp grin, “It is, what it is.” He shrugs, “Why do you think you wouldn’t make a good boyfriend?”

Snorting, Wine looks away, “What could I possibly offer?” that makes Felix frown, dousing his growing arousal, “I’m a homeless monster, with nothing. If anything, we have sponged off you and your Den long enough.”

Something inside Felix freezes, and he almost, _almost_ , tells Wine the truth, “Well.” He chickens out at the last minute, “We like you guys here.” He looks down and away at the admission, “We don’t think your sponging off us.” Den mates take care of each other after all, “And, I think your neat.”

Wine snorts, drawing Felix’s gaze back, and he’s much surer of himself, “What I do. You’re kind, and fun.”

“I am neither kind, nor fun but I appreciate the sentiment non the less Felix.”

“Well, I think your kind and fun.” Felix shrugs, looking smug, “And noble. You got Hope outta murder world, you don’t just do that if you’re the bad guy.”

Wine snorts, relaxing back into the wall, “And I question your judgement of people if your last partner tried to kill you.”

Felix barks a laugh at Wine’s dark look and shark tooth’d smile, “I mean, fair.” And Felix relaxes back down into Wine’s body, “Of course, you could be the one to prove them all wrong.”

Wine isn’t sure why, but those sultry words send a shiver down his spine, and he suddenly realizes how close Felix is. How heavy his body is over his legs, how much _bigger_ Felix was compared to him.

Not just in height, but width and strength. Felix may not be as massive as Ryder was, but when Wine glanced to his hands, he can’t help but notice how _long_ they are. The thought sends his own shiver through him, and he swallows roughly.

Wine looks back up, looks to Felix’s surprisingly vulnerable expression that is barely hidden by the amused smirk. The handsome face that is incredibly close to his own, so much so that they share a breath, soft and strangely intimate.

Wine moves first, something that Felix is delighted in, closing the gap between them, pressing his shaky mouth to Felix’s soft lips in a hesitant kiss.

Sighing happily, Felix leans in, soft and supple under Wine’s careful hands, his own arms going around Wine’s hips to pull him close, deepening the kiss softly.

Pleasure is bright and hot through their bodies, like a live wire has touched them, bringing them back to life. Arousal is warm in both of their bodies, and isn’t dampened when Felix deepens the kiss further, accidentally cutting his tongue on a razor-sharp tooth.

The pain of the cut is bright and sharp through Felix before it bleeds into pleasure and enjoyment, his healing trait already knitting the shallow wound back together. Wine jerks back, sockets wide when he tasted a speck of blood, skull draining of the lovely flush the Felix had worked up in him, as horror fills his sockets, “Felix,” he sounds aghast, “I’m so sorry!”

Wiping the spot of blood away with the back of his hand, Felix shakes his head, “’s fine. Healing trait got it.” And that soothes any horror or uncertainty from Wine.

He allows himself to be drawn back into another kiss, soft and sweet, allows himself to be pressed against the mage and finds his own comfort. His toes curl as Felix rolls his tongue over Wine’s summoned one, and Felix hums in appreciation when he rakes his claws over his shoulders roughly. 

Felix forgets all about the war, and the dark and blood, loosing himself in his kiss with Wine. He’s happy, he thinks, he likes this. It’s not often he gets the mate, and he’s rather fond of this one.

The demon inside purrs in satisfaction, and for now, everything is well.


	26. Midnight: The Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The too dark night continues, and Lilith finds Red at kitchen table. He's not doing to hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Afternoon Lovelies, 
> 
> New chapter is up! A little bit late, but I wanted to spend a bit more time going through the editing process with the second half of this chapter before posting. Two more fluffy chapters to go! 
> 
> As always, please read the warnings and enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: discussion of rape/non-con elements, torture, prostitution, all very mild with little detail. Description of a panic attack. Underfell was a horrible place.

Sighing, Lilith slipped into the kitchen quietly, scratching at the back of her neck as worry began to crawl up spine to take up residence in her soul. Felix didn’t do well on dark nights like this, when the shadows swallowed the moon and the air was so heavy. It brought up memories that were better left forgotten, and emotions that Felix didn’t need to relive.

Part of her wondered if she _should_ go back and get him, drag him out for a patrol, but Wine had looked so _confident_ in himself. So sure, that when he shook his head no at her, Lilith hadn’t argued with him and believed in Wine that he’d take care of her brother.

Lilith takes a breath, and slowly letting it out through clenched teeth, she relaxes. She knows that Felix is in good hands, that Wine will take care of him, and although Wine will not understand the pull towards Felix, Lilith doesn’t doubt his conviction.

She can trust a Den mate to care for her brother, even if said Den mate didn’t know he was a Den mate, creating a rather unfortunate situation for them all. The instincts and attachments were already slotted heavily into place for both sides, and Lilith thanked who ever maybe listening that they hadn’t put two and two together yet.

She didn’t want to scare them off with the truth of it and wasn’t quite ready to breech the truth with the Crew. Not until she had a better idea how they would react, and hopefully it didn’t involve a quick portal out of their world. _Hopefully_ , if it came to the point where they were ready to tell the Crew the truth, they could sit down and have a rational discussion about it. Gently, like real adults and it would severely lack the option of fleeing that Lilith is terrified that they would have chosen when they first arrived here. 

Lilith wasn’t certain she could let them know what they were to the Den, what they _mean_ to them and then watch them walk away. The Doom and Gloom Crew weren’t mages, wouldn’t understand what a Den meant, and it was going to _hurt_ when they left. It would only hurt more to have them know and reject them outright.

No, it would be easier to pretend they were just friends and send them on their way. That way at least, there was a chance of them coming back to visit, or better yet, waiting for the right time to tell them the truth.

Huffing a sigh, Lilith tries not to get her hopes up, tries to pretend it was going to be all right and that this whole situation wasn’t confusion at all. Fuck, with the rate Sloan was going, Nights wasn’t going to _want_ to leave, and Lilith would be okay with that. 

Shaking her head, Lilith scratches the back of her neck again with blunt fingernails as she slipped into the kitchen, her soul still filled with unrest. She tries to pretend that everything is fine as she pads quietly to the fridge, pulling open the door and the sharp white light filled the dark room.

The light casts darker shadows around the tight space, making the room seem smaller, tighter in a way that wasn’t seen in the day, and it almost feels like something dead when compared to the life this room usually had. There’s a pulse of discomfort in her soul, like a hook has been pressed into her magic, trying to tug her away from the fridge, like something’s wrong but Lilith’s can’t quite put her finger on what.

Shaking her head, she pushes the feeling away, guesses it’s just a mixture of her worry about the Crew and her magic reacting to Felix’s volatile emotions and tries not to worry about it. Reaching for a bottle of water, she briefly muses on her Den mother’s words, remembers that trouble is best left unborrowed, when she notices that something is missing.

Lilith pauses, feels her heart bottom out when she realizes that the bottle of spiced rum that she had made drinks for her and the boys was gone. The gap in the shelf is suddenly blaring loudly in warning at her with the fact the bottle was missing, and the tug in her soul is suddenly sharp and insistent. With a hand on the door and another on her bottle of water, Lilith frowned at the missing alcohol and slowly, quietly, closed the door, plunging her back into the dark.

Her heart felt heavy like it had been encased in lead as dread and uncertainty pour into her soul, and the air suddenly felt _wrong._ The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and her instinct whispered to look for someone who was hurt. She pauses, takes a moment to re-evaluate the turning of her stomach, the heavy knot of dread in her soul, and the panic that wedged in her throat.

No, someone wasn’t hurt but someone was _hurting_. The instinct was different when someone was hurt, the pull in her soul more intense when one of her Den mates was injured. This was something different, something softer. Something that came from her core, a dull ache rather then sharp panic, but no less intense in its own way. Either way, it was a warning, a call, that one of her own was in need.

Settling her soul, Lilith steps quietly from the kitchen, the purple shadows swallowing her up likes days of old, when she would skulk around bases and places that she wasn’t supposed to be in. Rolling her eyes, she reminds herself she doesn’t need to skulk, she fucking lives here, and right now she needs to find who’s hurting.

Slipping from the kitchen and into the dinning room, Lilith pauses as her eyes adjust to the darkness, finding a slumping, sad figure at the kitchen table and she wonders how she had missed him when she shuffled in to get her water.

Something presses into her soul as she watches the shadowy figure at the table, his head down and his shoulders are hunched. They tremble in the dark, and somehow that’s worse, the untouched bottle is by his elbow and Lilith feels relief swell in her chest. He would have paid for that come morning, and she’d seen Sans vomit enough times when he’d been sick to know it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

It’s for the best, she thinks. Suppressing a sigh, Lilith pushes her shoulders back and squares them as she takes careful, loud steps to the table, letting the skeleton in the shadows know that she was there. No point in getting stabbed because she startled him, she’d _learned_ that lesson with Sans underground, and whoever was hurting at their table didn’t need the extra serving of guilt. 

Coming around the table, Lilith feels her heart hurt a little more at Red’s miserable face, and it hurts as badly to see him so sad as it does to see Sans like this. His sockets are peeking up just over his crossed arms, his mouth pressing hard into the sleeves of his coat, and his eye lights are murky and dull.

He doesn’t flinch when the chair that Lilith pulls out next to him scrapes against the floor, doesn’t even look over at her as she sits carefully next to him and the tips of her fingers carefully nudge the bottle away from him.

He’s wearing his heavy, bulky jacket and the studs from his leather collar must be digging into his arms from how he’s leaning into them, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He’s sweating through his white t-shirt, and he must be broiling in that heavy coat in the humid summer night.

Lilith tilts her head, her face softening at his despair and she asks the obvious question, “You okay?”

His eye lights slide over to her, miserable and tired, the shadows under his sockets seem so much deeper tonight. He just looks unusually vulnerable, despite his harsh, miserable expression. He shakes his head no and goes back to staring at nothing in front of him.

Lilith squirms in her seat, tries to remember what she had done for Sans when they were still underground, when he had been like this. When he had been hurt and sad, and needing someone, “You want to talk about it?”

“You always so fuck’n nosey?” he grouses, his voice thin with pain that makes Lilith narrow her eyes on him.

She shrugs, and doesn’t take offense, “I’ve put a lot of time and effort into saving you.”

Red sneers, but doesn’t look at her, “That mean I owe you something?”

Lilith pauses, ignores the implications of his words and the way that it _hurts_ that he thinks like that, and focuses on how he’s acting. She frowns at him, keen eyes glancing over his hunched frame, “No.” she tells him slowly, looking for any other sign of what was wrong.

“Then fuck off.” He hisses at her, curling tighter into his miserable ball. His voice is still small and reedy, and anxiety spikes in Lilith’s heart. He’s acting like he’s in pain, like he has an injury he’s trying to protect and hide.

“Are you hurt?” she suddenly asks, eyes widening, and she sits up a little straighter.

Red finally looks at her, eye lights constricted tightly with agony, his mouth pulled into a miserable line despite the anger that’s only starting to build in earnest, “Why the hell d’ya care?” and he suddenly gives her a vicious grin, sharp enough to cut, one that barely hides his pain, “I ain’t a Den mate, am I?”

Lilith suddenly freezes, everything in her stills at his words, and all she can think is _he can’t know_ as panic slams into her hard _._ Her soul grows cold at his sharp, vicious smirk, and she fights to keep her face neutral despite her shock. Her teeth click shut, and it makes Red _grin_.

“I mean.” He continues, still hunched up at the table, but his words are clear and sharp, “Would explain a lot wouldn’t it?” its all but a dare, and Lilith still can’t breathe. She can feel her lungs burn as Red continues, “I mean, you shared soul magic wit’ me. Brought me sandwiches when I didn’t like soup. I fell asleep on ya.” Lilith swears her heart stopped at his words. He doesn’t seem freaked out by it, he’s not running for the hills, if anything he seems _pissed_ about it and Lilith can’t get her brain to come out of its _error 404_ circle its caught in.

Red shrugs, looking amused under a thin layer of pain, “Would explain why _that_ happened. Why we’re all get’n attached so quick, and act’n all cuddly with you. Would explain why you razed another universe to th’ ground ta get Sin back.” His Hotland accident is thicker, harsher in his pain and Red tries to hide his grimace.

Lilith’s breath catches in her throat at Red’s accusatory words, and his eye lights burn briefly in dark delight before exhaustion wanes the color away, “’Course. If we were, why’jya want to keep us?”

The clog in Lilith’s throat shook itself loose at his self-doubting words, and she quickly doused her shock under her own deep amusement. Of _course,_ fucking Red would figure it out. He’s too smart for his own good, a twisted mirror of her beloved mate, and she can’t help but get attached to Red.

“And so what if it’s true?” she challenges, drawing those murky eye lights back to her, and it’s Red’s turn to be shocked as she flips the script on him, “Would you even stay?” the words come out smoothly despite the pounding of her soul, and she’s terrified of his next words. There would be nothing worse then being rejected by a Den mate, _nothing_ to a mage and she fights to keep her face neutral despite how her heart pounds like a jack rabbit in her chest.

Red blinks at her before he sneers, “And what, be pets?” fear pulses in his chest, he pushes her away and it’s as natural as putting on his shoes. Safer, he thinks, despite what the book said. It doesn’t matter if they’re Den mates if there’s a power imbalance, and Red’s feeling sick and raw, and tired of everyone else being in control of his life. 

Lilith’s face scrunches up in disgust and anger, “Den mates,” she hisses angrily at him, “Are not pets. They are beloved members of our family.” It’s a relief to hear, but Red can’t bring himself to give in so easily, he doesn’t trust easy and this seems way too convenient.

Instead, Red smirks wider, his eye lights shining viciously despite how his soul is nearly soothed at her conviction, “Brought together by Fate herself.” Lilith’s sneer softens and confusion blinks into her eyes at the words he had read in a book, “As a gift to her favorites. But tell me Lilith, I thought you didn’t believe in Fate?”

“I,” she hesitates, then narrows her eyes, studying him carefully now, torn between their weird conversation and how she still _knows_ he’s hurt, “How do you know that?”

Red snorted, skull twisting back to hide his face in his arms so he doesn’t have to see that hope, “You never answered my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.” She shot back, leaning in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. Red looked back up over his arms to glower at her, sockets narrowed into an annoyed glare, and Lilith gave a little, “You’re not nearly as awful as you all make yourselves out to be.”

Her voice is quiet, nearly lost to the dark, a truth that Red doesn’t like to admit about himself. It’s weird to hear it from someone else’s lips, spoken as if it were the only truth, and it’s almost _nice_ to have someone else believe in them.

It makes Red snort at the sentiment of it all.

“Yes we are.” Red is quick to counter, “I think your just see’n us through Den colored lenses.”

Rolling her eyes, Lilith rubs at her temples with the pads of her fingers, “Red.” She sighs and sits back up, her voice soft, and she hopes Red believes her, “Look, you guys aren’t all nearly as terrible as you all think. I think you all had a shitty shake at it in your home universe, and you survived.”

That makes Red look at her, and Lilith’s hands itch to touch him but fear of rejection keeps them in her lap, “That doesn’t mean we condemn you for it. You did what you had to, to live. That’s respectable.” Red snorts, but he’s listening, and Lilith swears her heart is going to burst from its chest, and she’s afraid she’s going to mess it up.

“So,” she continues quietly, her heart aching, pounding like she’s ran a marathon and knowing that if she fucked this up, she’d loose them all, “Yeah, if you wanted to stay, we’d be fine with it.”

Red blinks at her and the tight line of his shoulders soften. There’s a flash of confusion over his face before it’s hidden under the gruff, angry scowl, “We’re the bad guys.”

Lilith feels her soul cramp at his words, an ideology that’s been shoved down his throat but one that Lilith doesn’t totally disagree with. She isn’t stupid, she knows what Red is, what he’s done, but she would hardly call him a _bad guy_. Morally questionable at most, but who wasn’t?

Snorting, Lilith hooks her ankle over her knee and settles into the chair, “And do we look like good guys?” the narrowed expression on his face tells her that, yes, they did think that, “Red.” She says his name again only because it feels good coming off her tongue, “Who said your bad guys? Nights brother? His buddy Ink, who did fuck all to help any of you? Your worlds Asgore?” she sneers the King’s name, her dislike inherent.

Red shrugs, flinches a little at Asgore’s name, “My actions.” He says quietly, and Lilith doesn’t think he’s caught that he said ‘my’ and not ‘our’.

Lilith shook her head no, “Survival is not an inherently evil thing.” She counters, her words harsh, “We haven’t heard much about your worlds, but they sound like shit.” He snorts at that, “So no, I don’t think your evil.”

“We’ve destroyed whole words.” Red tells her dismally, voice small.

Lilith rolls her eyes, “And I’ve got a kill count somewhere in the thousands. It wasn’t just mage’s that we fought against in the war, and frankly, the conflict isn’t really over.” They still fought and killed to defend their territory and each other, even now, and the Den wouldn’t hesitate to keep the Crew safe.

“Besides,” she’s quick to add, “If Nights isn’t yanking our chain, then what you did was part of the natural order of things. If those universes didn’t die, they would have taken others down with them.”

Red snorts, voice rough, and his soul _hurts_ with how much he wants to believe her, “So what, we’re part of the greater good?”

Lilith shrugs, “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve a second chance.”

Sighing, Red sits up with a wince, “So you’d want us to stay?” Lilith glances up as though in thought before she shrugged and nodded yes, “What about the others? You think they’d want that?” She nodded again fighting to keep the hope from her face, knowing she would never forgive herself if they left because of her.

Red gives her another huff, “What about the warnings Nightmare gave you? Ink and Dream will come for us, eventually.”

Lilith snorted, her nose scrunching up at the thought, and her soul pulses with sheer joy. His words almost feel like he’s accepted it, but she’s afraid to hope, “I’ve met Dream, can’t say I’m terribly threatened.” Her voice is almost a sneering sarcastic, “And I have some questions about why the hell they let your worlds get so bad if they’re supposed to be the _good guys.”_ She wants to know why they let these worlds suffer, why didn’t they _do_ anything.

It makes Red grin viciously, preening that she isn’t afraid of the Star Sanses before his grin falls again. The Stars, for all their poetic, waxy words, were still not something one should trifle with, and fights with them should be avoided if possible.

It wasn’t like they typically had access to a healer and patching themselves up when one of them got hurt proved difficult long before they found the mages.

Lilith pauses in hesitation, her head titling as she watches Red before she added, “We would protect you from them, if we need to.”

“And if they hurt one of you?” Red asks quietly, knowing that no one, despite all their bluster, would be stupid enough to stand up to the _Star_ Sanses. The darlings of the multiverse, the prissy fucks.

No one would be stupid enough to pick them over the Stars, if given the choice.

Lilith snorts, “You think you’d let them hurt us?” her question catches Red off guard, as does her knowing smirk. She grins at his surprise, at the automatic growl from low in his own throat at the thought, “I thought not. Thing about a Den is that, when you fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us. It’s a package deal that works both ways.”

Red glances away with a frown, “Even if you were hated? You’d pick us?”

“We’d pick you every time.” The weird thing it, Red believes her when she tells him that, “Besides, we’re hated now.” She admits with a nonchalant shrug, and it makes Red frown. His soul pulses with a weird ache at her plainly spoken words, almost like someone is pressing onto a healing wound, “Might as well keep my Den mates if I’m going to be hated. So, fuck the rest of it.”

Red glanced down, knowing this was the proof he needed, this was better then an admission. This was sheer fucking loyalty that they didn’t deserve or even work for, but still. They had suffered for it, and the truth was they could actually stay here.

Red moves, twisting to face Lilith a little more head on, when pain shoots up his spine, sharp and hot that it makes his toes tingle unpleasantly.

He gasps and curls back into a ball and he sees white as agony sears through him and his vision blacks out. He swallows back his cry if only barely, and Lilith stills at his side.

“Red?” her voice sounds so small, so far away but Red clings to it like a lifeline.

Tears well at his clenched sockets as pain ricochets around his body, and his hands go numb, “’m fine.” He manages, and he doesn’t need to see Lilith to know she’s not buying that.

He hears the chair scraping against the linoleum floor, and he feels the heat of her body next to his suddenly, and he groans when he feels her hand flat to his shoulder blade. The heat from her hand is like a balm, and he wishes it were lower on his spine.

“Where are you hurt?” her commanding voice centres him and sends a shiver down his body despite the pain he’s trembling with. It’s the same voice that he’s _sure_ she’s used on the battlefield, giving orders as she fought along side her people, and it’s a tone that _no one_ denies.

Not even Red, and he knows he’s fucked when arousal pools in his lower belly, despite the agony he’s wracked with.

“Spine.” He gasps out through clenched teeth; his voice cracking and he can’t find it in him to uncurl from his ball.

“Okay.” Her voice has softened, and Red focuses on that rather then his ragged breathing. Fuck, he should have drank the rum when he had the chance. “Can I see?” she asked him softly.

He nods, pain from his spine still pulsing its way through him and Lilith’s voice is painfully soft, “Okay, upper spine or lower spine?”

“Lower.” He ground out through his sharp teeth.

Lilith shifts so she’s at his back, her hands careful on his coat and t shirt, “Okay, I’m lifting your shirt.” She talks him through it, carefully peeling up his jacket and shirt, wincing when she saw his spine.

The third vertebrae above his hips is bright with angry, thick magic, the vertebrae out of line with the rest of his spine and the magical cushion was stretched painfully out. Lilith winced at the strangled noise that Red didn’t quite manage to swallow back, and his hands tremble.

Dropping his shirt carefully, Lilith frowned but didn’t stand. She stayed close, her hand flat to his shoulder blade, kept it there since it seemed to make him feel better in the way he relaxed a little. Red let out a watery, shaky sigh and pressed into her touch as the warmth from her hand seeped into his shoulder.

“Okay, Red?” she kept her voice even, didn’t let her own worry seep into her cool, monotone voice. She waited until he grunted painfully at her, knowing that he was listening to her careful words, and Lilith worries, “I can probably massage that vertebrae back into place. You wanna come up to my room with Sans and I, and let me try?”

His shoulders tense under her hand, and she can feel Red hold his breath for a brief moment in a sudden spike of fear. Lilith feels her stomach twist with a sudden dread, feels her insides go cold and her soul stilled. She keeps catching glimpses of the things that hurt Red, how he couldn’t bare to eat soup, how he startled to discover he fell asleep on her, and how he fears being in a bedroom with her.

There are hints, guesses, at what he had been through, the things that had hurt him, and this is just one more of those things. It makes her heart heavy with dread and her vice rumble unhappily. _She_ feels anger flutter like a bird trapped in her chest, an anger that is only building with every story, every hint, she gets from them.

“You don’t need to.” She’s quick to reassure him, the anger that boils in her blood is kept out of her voice through sheer will alone, and she won’t let him confuse her anger at the unfairness of the past with being angry at him. “It’s up to you Red.”

Red lets out a shuttering sigh, the edges of his voice are filled with pain that he can barely keep contained, “This is bullshit.” He spits and it makes Lilith frown, “I am not this fucking weak.” He hissed angrily; his eyes clenched against the pain.

Something pangs in Lilith’s soul and her stomach twists at the self-deprecating tone of his voice, and she softens towards him, “Red.” He huffs at the softer tone of her voice, and she drops it from her tone, leaning back to her normal monotone, “I don’t think your weak.”

He snorts at her again, his head still firm on the table, “I don’t.” she reassures, “You’re not weak Red.” That made his skull twist towards her, a single murky red eye light glaring at her, “You survived Underfell. You kept Edge alive.”

Red snorts at her, “Barely.” And any ground that Lilith had won, was lost to his pain. He’s back to bitter and angry as pain swells through his body like a wave.

“But you did. You have LV Red, solidly at 12. You’re not weak.” Lilith tells him carefully, her hand still solid at his shoulder to ground him.

“I was Asgore’s attack dog. His executioner. The things he made me do.” Red pauses, a cold dread filling his soul, “The things he did to me. I survived all that bullshit, all that suffering to be a fucking pet.” He spits.

“You’re not a pet Red.” Lilith tells him automatically, still a firm presence at his side.

Red sneers, “Asgore’s pet.” He tells her bitterly, “Nightmare’s pet. Your pet.” He hisses between sharp teeth, and for a moment, Lilith lets him vent. He’s angry and hurting, and he needs some kind of outlet, “All that anger built up and for what? All that LV, and for what?”

“You’re not a pet. “Lilith says again, this time with more conviction, a firmness that had a steel core, “You did the best with what you had.” Red snorts, but still doesn’t, or maybe can’t, move, “And you’re not weak Red. You’re hurt.”

Red sighs but doesn’t move. He glances away looking miserable and hurt, “Why the fuck is it always you that finds me like this?” he feels like shit, weak and foolish in front of Lilith, and hates himself a little for it.

Why’d it always have to be _her_ that finds him in this state?

Lilith sighs and rubs his shoulder, a little afraid to let her hand dip lower in case her intentions are misconstrued. He still smells faintly like a skunk after the disaster that was the Yule cats and it isn’t helping his ego any, “Probably because Sans and I spent the most time with you and your brother.” It’s a logical answer that does nothing to sooth his battered soul.

Red snorts, “Don’t fucking know why you do.” His voice is thin again, reedy and his breathing hitches between his words in pain. Of what little of his face she can see, is scrunched in hurt and it suddenly dawns on Lilith that, Red doesn’t like himself very much. Its not just a lack of confidence, this is dipping dangerously into self loathing.

Lilith frowns, her voice taking an angry edge, “Hey, none of that.” It makes him still a little, and Red struggles getting his walls back up, “Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you.”

“I’m a dick.” He tells her automatically, and when Lilith waits for the joke or the smirk, it never comes, and she realizes he’s being serious.

“Which I find oddly charming.” She counters quickly, isn’t going to let him talk down about himself, _her_ Den mate.

Red snorts, sounds watery and small, “Why are you nice to me?”

“Why would I be mean to you?” she’s quick to counter, and it makes Red sigh as they keep talking in circles. Lilith takes a breath, “Look, Red? I don’t know what happened to you before you got here, but you’re here now. I will help you, if you want it.”

Red’s quiet for longer then he would have thought, pain ricocheting through his body, uncertainty twisting his soul, until his hands go numb, “Is it cuz I’m a Den mate?” his voice is thin with pain, shrill and weak.

Lilith shrugs, “That’s part of it.” She admits. Red’s too hurt to fuck around with him, this song and dance isn’t serving anyone, and it’s not funny if Red’s hurting, “And I like you.” She admits with a shrug he can’t see, “And Sans likes you.” Because that was important too, so very, _very_ important, “And we aren’t going to let you be hurt.”

Red breaths slowly through his teeth, shaky and quiet, “Can I bring up the rum?”

“No.” Lilith shakes her head no, doesn’t even give him that as an option.

Red gives her a watery laugh, “Fine. Okay. Sure.” He relents, and Lilith feels something loosen as relief finally settles her irritated instinct. Red was hurting, and she needed to take care of him.

“I don’t think I can stand.” He muttered roughly to her; voice small as if he were trying to hide in the purple shadows of a moonless night.

Licking her teeth, Lilith nods, “Okay.” She pauses and winces with the offer, “I’ll carry you up?” she leaves it up to him, makes it an offer that he can deny. Red nods against the table, and it’s not the first time she’s carried him any where. Thinking about it, its not even the second.

“Let’s not make a habit of this.” He grouses, and Lilith only barely resists the urge to tell him that it’s too late. That by the third time you do a thing, it’s a habit.

She keeps that to herself and carefully stands, easing Red from the chair. He winces and gasps as his spine is jostled, clinging to her tightly with clenched sockets and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders desperately.

Lilith lets him cling to her as she slides an arm under his femurs to support him, her other arm going around his shoulder to hold him steady to her body. Red buries his face into the crook of her throat and clings on tightly, panting hard against the soft skin of her neck as fire burns through him. His toes go numb and his breathing hitches.

He trembles in her arms as Lilith begins to move towards the stairs, trying desperately not to jostle him. Red makes pained little noises into her soft skin with every step, pressing his teeth into a viscous star shaped scar at her throat, his body hot and sweaty from the pain.

He doesn’t particularly care right now what this kindness will cost him so long as he gets some relief.

Something deep inside whispers that, there will be no cost. That Den mates take care of each other and to stop thinking like that.

The paranoid part of Red doesn’t trust it, but a bead of sweat trickles down the back of his neck as the pain builds, even that part shuts up. He clings to Lilith, who’s solid and real, and hopes her words are true.

It’d be nice if Fate didn’t fuck him over, for once.

-

Looking up from his worn star map, Sans frowns as Lilith nudges the door open with her knee, and his sockets go wide when he sees Red trembling in Lilith’s arms. Closing the book, Sans tosses it aside, quickly shoving himself off the bed as his brow furrows, “Shit, what happened to him?”

Kicking the door shut behind her, Lilith walks carefully to their bed, easing Red down. He clings to her desperately, feeling nauseous with pain and his head spins, the thought of letting go of the one solid thing he had, seems disastrous.

Lilith massages his hands from her shirt carefully, sitting him down so that he’s at the edge of the mattress with his legs dangling over the edge. Caving inward, Red nearly collapses in on himself, trembling in the aftershock of the short journey upstairs.

Gasping a little, Red clings to the edge of the bed, sharp claws easily slicing through the heavy comforter, and a little bit of stuffing catches his claws, and he doesn’t _mean_ to break their things. He didn’t do it on purpose, but he can’t get the words out to apologize. He can’t speak with the wedge of hurt in his throat, and he can barely swallow back the whimper of pain as another sharp spike of hurt crawls up his spine like a spider.

“He’s spine’s out of line.” Lilith tells Sans softly, her cool fingers easing his jacket and shirt up, and Sans winces at the wayward vertebrae.

“Oh shit.” He cringes a little, knows that has to hurt, and his soul pulses in sympathy, “What are we going to do?” he asks quietly. He knows Red can be an ass, but he’s Sans’s _favorite ass_ , and he doesn’t want to see him hurting. Sans doesn’t _like_ to see Red hurting like this. 

“I’m going to try to massage it back into place.” Lilith tell him quietly, easing Red’s jacket down his shoulders, the leather pooling at his elbows. Sans winces at the small noise Red makes when she does, even as gentle as Lilith is being it still hurts.

Taking a breath, Sans reaches for the nearest elbow, and helps Red ease his hands out of the sleeve, watching his face carefully. He sees Red cringe with every small movement, hears his breathing hitch with every gasping breath, and Sans feels his soul cramp.

His soul aches hard in his chest when he sees Red outwardly show pain, feels a small, dull tug from his core and feels his own soul song quietly hum to Red’s. “Lilith,” Sans starts as they pull his jacket off together, moving carefully with Red trembling between them and his own soul song calls back to Sans’s in a warble of pain.

The soul songs are a new thing, something he had only really felt from Lilith, but with the number of their Den increasing, it’s happening with the others as well. It nearly scared the hell out of Sans when he felt it for the first time from Red, when Sans had poured his soul out to him about the truth with Chara.

Sans had felt it when he needed it the most, a shy, hesitant brush to his soul from Red’s. A careful hum that let Sans know that Red was there, and he was safe. That it was okay. It was confusing, sure, and made a lot more sense when Lilith explained that souls of larger Dens would ‘sing’ to each other to give and receive comfort, and was a quick way to check in with each other.

It did makes Sans worry, a little, that he’d become a blaring neon sign of depression to the others, but Lilith reassured him it would be fine. That soul songs were a good thing and would only serve to let the others know how he was doing and vice versa. Still, it had been the most comforting thing Red had done for Sans, next to bringing him to Lilith afterwards, and he had no idea he had even done it.

“There’s a lot your awesome at.” Sans continues quietly, grasping Red’s shoulder suddenly to steady him, giving in to his abrupt need to touch him, to verify that Red was okay. Sans’s careful words draw Lilith’s frown to him, “But you’ve never done this before, I have.”

Red leans into Sans’s hand, and if Red’s aware, Sans isn’t sure. His breathing hitches painfully, and his hands tremble. Lilith frowns at Sans, brow furrowing with confusion as she folds up Red’s coat carefully, “I’ve given massages before.”

Sans frowns at her and nods, “To fleshy creatures.” He points out gently, and sees understanding flicker though Lilith’s eyes, “Paps used to get his spine all in a twist when he hit his growth spurts. You need to be careful realigning a vertebra like this.”

Lilith blinks at him, glances to Red and then back to Sans. Her shoulders are stiff, and her frown is deep with worry until she looks at Sans’s confident face. She relaxes instantly, unwinds a little and knows that Sans is her mate but also a Den mate. He feels the tug to protect Red too, even if he doesn’t understand it fully, and more to the point, Lilith _trusts_ Sans.

Trusts him with her very life and knows that she loves him as much as he loves her, and _together_ they’ll help their hurting Den mate.

Relaxing, Lilith leans forward to press a kiss to Sans’s forehead just to watch him blush and grin. Red watches her too, panting in pain, his eye lights brightening briefly before they darken back to murky ruby.

“Okay love.” She rocks easily back to her heels, ready to follow instructions, “What do you need from me?”

Sans grins softly at her, and briefly his eye lights are little inverted hearts before they snap back to hard round circles. Stars he loves her, he thinks, knows that his mate is so cool and trusts him completely.

Sans looks to Red, his hand still firm on his shoulder, “I’m going to need your help to get him to lay down and get him comfortable.” Lilith nods, shaking out her hands as Sans talks to Red softly, “Red?”

Red grunts that he’s listening even as his head swims, but Sans’ doubts how much he’s hearing.

“Do you want Lilith to cut your shirt off or do you want us to take it off?” Sans asks as gently as he can, leaving the choice to Red.

Red stares at them, glancing between Sans’s forced calm and Lilith’s careful neutral. His soul squirms with uncertainty, and knows he’s put himself in a vulnerable position with them. He knows they could hurt him, if they wanted to.

Something inside him tells the rest of his soul to shove it, “Take it off.” He shrugs, wincing in pain, “No point in ruining it.”

They nod, and with a gentleness that no one has ever touched Red with before, they ease the t-shirt up and over his head. It hurts, every tiny jostle and pull at his body sends a wave of agony through his spine that he can’t swallow back. It makes him gasp softly and cry out quietly as they pull the soft fabric up and over his head, it makes sweat drip down the back of his neck and Red clenches his sockets shut.

There’s no relief when they pull it off, and the experience leaves Red exhausted, gasp and choke on air, holding back the bitter sob of pain through will alone.

Lilith and Sans don’t mention it, and for that much Red is grateful.

Its only when they’ve got his shirt off and he’s sitting topless between them do they give him a break. They’re each on either side of him, Lilith holding his hand tightly, not even wincing when his sharp claws dig into the flesh of her hand, and beads of blood bubble up. Sans has his cool hand at his lower back, pressing into the painful part of his spine, his grin carefully neutral.

They say nothing of his pain, merely prop him up between them, soothing him softly with carefully spoke words, murmured quietly along with soft pulses of their souls. It’s almost overwhelming, but Red can’t tell them to stop, not when he’s trembling between them in pain, washed out with agony.

He can taste the salt of his own tears as they fall uselessly down his face to catch in his teeth, hates that he’s crying in front of them, but he’s helpless to the betrayal of his body. The agony that burns through him is sharp and hot, like a fire poker being pressed against his spine.

He would have rather the fire poker, he thinks, at least when the magic burnt away in his spine it would have stopped hurting. 

“Alright Red.” Sans tells him carefully, way too close to his skull for comfort and that only compounds the fact that Red feels like shit, that he’s so helpless that he’s allowed Sans to get so close without his notice, “When ever your ready, we’re going to get you to lay down.”

Red sneers between his tears, pain making him irritable, “I’m fucking ready.” He hisses, proud that he actually sounded irate rather then pathetic.

Pausing, Sans gives him a slow nod, not actually believing a fucking word that Red spits at them, “Alright.” He glances to Lilith, “Lili, can you sit back against the wall with a pillow in your lap. I’ll get Red to lay down.”

The mage nods, moves slowly, carefully as to not jostle Red, and he hates that he misses the heat of her body next to his; he feels the bed dipping as she settles herself away from them, and he hates that he takes comfort in the fact that Sans is still steady next to him.

“All right Red,” he says when Lilith is settled, “Lets get you laying down.”

“I’m not a fucking moron.” He hissed again, “I know where you need me.”

Sans rolls his eye lights but lets Red sass him if it makes him feel a little better about the situation. Sans has no doubt that being a jerk helps Red feel a little more in _control_ over what’s happening when he was very vulnerable. Sans isn’t one to judge if Red needs to feel in control with what’s about to be done to his body, and Sans gets it. He does.

Even nice things, pleasurable things, need to come with consent and they’ll move at Red’s pace.

Sans doesn’t touch Red as he moves, even though he wants too, he lets Red do it on his own. Even when he gasps and winces in pain, and heavy, shameful, tears roll down his cheeks, Sans doesn’t touch. Neither does Lilith, she keeps her hands to herself and lets Red come to her, crawling over their mattress until he makes it to her lap, his arms giving out underneath him.

She lets him face plant into the pillow on her lap, laying sideways across their bed, and his arms come to curl around the pillow with a muffled groan, exposing his back to Lilith and Sans.

Around him, they both freeze, souls heavy at the sight of his back ribs and shoulders, and Red curses himself for forgetting what his battered bones look like. They had mostly been spared in Chara’s mauling, so when Lilith taped him back together, she had missed the mess of scars that criss-crossed his shoulder blades and ribs.

They’re too perfect, too clean to be from a battle, and Red sweats a little as he can feel them staring at him, and he squirms to better hide his face in the pillow.

Lilith recovers first, used to seeing injuries and scars like this, her hand falling to the back of his skull as she clears her throat, “Is this okay Red?” her voice is still a little choked as her fingers scratch pleasantly at the back of his skull, her voice deceptively calm.

He’s seen her go from cool and collected to burning down armies with the help of a dragon, so he doesn’t buy it so readily.

“’s fine.” He grumbled from her lap, tensing in anticipation of Sans touching him.

Lilith glances up to Sans, frowning at the narrowed eye lights that glare darkly at the patch work of scars over Red’s back, and there is a swell of yellow in his eye lights. Something moves within him, something that feels too much like the Judge for Sans liking, and he’s quick to shove it down.

It helps when Lilith reaches over to nudge his shoulder, her calm expression helps push down the swell of helpless anger and the yellow magic fades from his eye lights.

Sans clears his throat, flexing his fingers as if he’s okay, “Alright, I’m going to sit behind you and touch your shoulders. Sound okay?” his voice is just as choked, just as strained as Lilith’s, and it makes Red sigh.

“It’s fucking fine.” And he’s glad that Sans isn’t sitting over his legs, he won’t feel pinned and trapped. Red isn’t sure he could _deal_ with that tonight.

Nodding, Sans shuffles forward on his knees and carefully pressing his hands against Red’s shoulder blades, pressing his thumbs under the flat bone and into the magical cushion that connected his scapula to his body. Red groans as the pleasure spreads like a balm over his battered body, and releases some of the tension.

Sans works Red’s shoulders gently, eye lights glancing to the too neat scars, as Lilith scratches at Red’s skull lightly. Sans clears his throat again, trying to get the tight bones under his hands too loosen, “So, start where the injured connection isn’t.” he explains quietly in a choked voice, “I like to start above it and work my way down, it helps loosen the connective magic in his body.”

Lilith nods, eyes flicking to the scars that she’s desperate to touch, but wont dare, and keeps her hands light on Red’s skull, “Makes sense.” Her voice is unusually small, and Red hates that even more. Hates that they’re treating him with the kid gloves on.

Sans’s hands move carefully to Red’s spine, and it feels like a rod in his hands its so painfully tight. He can’t help glancing to the scars every few seconds, feeling a tight ball of anger coiling in his belly every time he does, and _knows_ they were done with intention.

Shifting on the bed in discomfort, Red swears he can feel their eyes scald his back every time they look at his scars, and he hates it. Hates everything about this, hates how he’s allowed himself to be put into this position. He hates how vulnerable he is. 

“Just fucking ask.” Red hisses in irritation, already sick of them dancing around the issue, “Your _Den_ mates right.” He goes for blood, and if they’re going to make this uncomfortable, then he’s going to make it _uncomfortable._

Sans stills over Red, his breathing hitches and he looks desperately to Lilith with a newfound fear in his eye lights. She sighs with a shrug, and doesn’t have the words to comfort him when she hasn’t wrapped her mind around it herself, “He figured it out.”

“How?” Red is almost insulted by the amount of shock in Sans’s voice.

“I’m not a fucking moron.” Red spits, his voice still muffled by the pillow and he lifts his hand to flip Sans off, “None of this is normal. Our reactions to you aren’t normal. And, I can fucking read.”

Sans looks up, his hands working over Red’s body again with a frown. He shares a look with Lilith, and she understands completely, and he can practically feel the fear from her, terrified that he’d bolt at best. Or worse, tell the others and they’d all bolt.

“Yeah?” Sans tells him easily as Lilith began to draw aimless patterns over the back of Red’s skull, “What do you think about that?”

Red pauses, not expecting that question and shrugs, “I dunno. Nothing?”

Sans glances up in time to see the flash of hurt over Lilith’s face, one that’s quickly buried behind cold neutral and careful control. It makes Sans frown, hating that this is hurting his girl, thinking there must be some way to make this a little easier. It’s a shame that its fucking Red that figured it out, at least Edge they could talk to without the worry of verbal razors.

“Nothing at all?” Sans asks mildly, despite the pulse of pain that bursts through Lilith’s soul, the dull ache that Sans feels in a weird combination of her dower soul song and his own hurt. She doesn’t want to hear Red say he doesn’t care, and that Den magic was full of shit.

She licks her teeth and braces despite the encouraging smile from Sans.

Red pauses, shrugs lightly under Sans’s hands, “I dunno.” He admits, his voice is rough with pain, “How am I supposed to feel?”

Sans shrugs, fingers careful as he words at Red’s spine, “Well, when I figured it out, I was in a pretty bad place.”

Red grunts, refuses to see the parallels between them, “The shit with Chara?”

Nodding, Sans speaks with such a small voice and is thankful that Lilith is with them, it makes it easier to talk about, “Yeah. The bullshit with Chara.” His voice is agreeable and smooth, neutral, “It gave me something to cling to when I needed it. Gave me something to bond to, it helped support me when I didn’t think anyone else would.”

Sans doesn’t think he’s ever spoken truer words. No one had his and Papyrus’s back better then the mages. No one. They had been the ones who had ventured underground for them, they had been the ones who fought for him when he’d been brainwashed by Chara, and they had been the ones to love them both.

Sans didn’t doubt for one moment that they all loved him, because he knew they did. He knew it in that, when Jerry doubted what happened underground, Lola, sweet and cheerful, took care of it in a brutal fashion. He knew it in the way that Sloan shared hot chocolate with him and traded stories of tradition. He knew it in the way Ryder came into his room after he’d been rescued and stayed with him, and in the way Felix had been ready to defend him from the Buns when they had been in Muffet’s.

The mages loved him, and he loved them too. It was a constant in his world, Sans loved his brother and his mages, and they loved him too. 

Red is quiet, allowing Sans to continue and he hears the smile in Sans’s voice, “I had a family, a Den of mages, that would burn down the world for me. People who would protect me from anything, who love me for me.” He gives Lilith a quick, soft smile, feels butterflies in his stomach when she smiles back and she eases back a little, “It was overwhelming as fuck.” He admits, “It was terrifying, to suddenly have all these mage’s willing to keep me safe, to keep me happy, when I didn’t think I deserved it.”

Lilith’s suddenly frowns at his words, mouth opening to counters his thoughts, but Sans shakes his head no quietly, and her teeth click shut. Sans continues in a low voice, working at Red’s spine, “I don’t know how your supposed to feel about it, I bet if we were mage’s we’d be elated. We would know that we’d be cherish, protected like nothing else, and nothing would ever be stupid enough to hurt us here. I can’t tell you how to feel about it Red, but I know, when I needed them most, the Den was there for me.”

He shrugs, keeps his hands moving over Red’s bones, “It works both ways. The bond.” Sans clarifies quickly, “It helps you bond to them too. _You_ want to keep them safe, and when shit hits the fan, you’ll want to stand next to them. You will shed blood, _for_ them.”

Just like he had when Felix lay choking in a pool of his own blood when Madelyn had tried to murder him. It had been _Sans_ that ended that fight, not the battle mages.

Red snorts, its muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into, “And you think _we_ deserve that kind of loyalty?”

“I don’t think it works that way. Fate made a choice, it doesn’t have anything to do with deserving. It just is.” Sans shrugs as he works, and Lilith keeps scratching lightly at Red’s skull, “But that loyalty is yours, if you want it.”

“It isn’t my choice.” Red mutters darkly, feels his soul cramp, and he feels _undeserving,_ “I made a promise.”

Sans nods mildly, “Yeah, you all sure did. But Nights is getting awfully chummy with Sloan, isn’t he?”

Red snorts, knows that’s an understatement, still thinks this is too easy and doesn’t trust it, “Right. And what about his brother?”

Sans pauses, his head tilting in thought as he struggled to remember who Nightmare’s brother was, “Dream?” Red nods and Sans snorts, pressing into Red’s spine, “Can’t say I’m terribly threatened.”

Red barks a painful laugh, and something comes loose in his soul, something heavy and afraid, “Your girl said the same.”

Sans nodded mildly, “Yeah, no doubt.” He pauses and glances to Lilith, gives her a wink just to see her smile, feels his soul warm at that, “What are you going to do now?”

Red shrugged, felt what little pleasure he had built up crumble, “Should tell Nightmare.” He had the confirmation he needed, and he doubted they’d pack up and leave, “But this might spook ‘m. Better to let Sloan break the news.”

Grinning, Sans feels his soul lighten and he works his way lower down Red’s spine, and he relaxes a little more, “Yeah, better let Sloan do it. She can tell him nice and easy.” Across from him, Sans sees Lilith do the same, sees her slump back into the wall with a gentle sigh of relief.

Grunting, Red curls a little tighter into the pillow, “Guess it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here.” He mutters, “Keep Edge and the kid safe.”

“Right. Edge and the kid.” Sans agrees with a grin, glances up to see the softening expression on Lilith’s face, “Gotta do what’s best for them.”

Red hums an agreement, and mostly because he can’t leave well enough alone, he takes a drastic turn of discussion, “So you gonna ask me what happened to my back?”

Sans frowns and gives a little sigh. Knows that Red’s accepted whatever it is they’re offering him, even just a little, and is going to be a jerk about it until the others know. “What happened to your back Red.”

“I tripped into a spiders web.” He tells them, bitter amusement in his voice thick and real, and it makes both Sans and Lilith frown.

“Tripped?” Sans asked, earning a groan as he presses his thumbs into Red’s spine, releasing the pressure.

“Spider’s web.” Red is all soft and agreeable, and it’s a trap with razor wire.

Lilith glances at the scared bone, and Red shivers when the tips of her fingers finally brush at the scars that marked his body, “These are from a brutal flogging.” She says the obvious coldly, crimson magic flashing in her eyes angrily now that they were addressing the elephant in the room.

Sans pauses to look up at his mate with a frown the same time that Red looks up from the pillow with a dower look. “You really do take the fun outta annoying each other.”

Lilith nodded, “It’s a gift.” but her grin doesn’t quiet meet her eyes and is tinged with anger.

Red huffs at her and flops back down, “What’s the point of being in on a secret, if you can’t take the piss outta each other.”

Sans snorts and goes back to working away at Red’s body, easing the tension from the metal rod that his spine had become.

Lilith rolls her eyes, “Sure. You can irritate each other all you want, but I do wonder if it was the spider did the flogging?”

Red snorts, settling back into Lilith’s lap, “Nah. That nasty bitch did plenty.” He shrugs, “But that was from Asgore.” Both Sans and Lilith still, and while Lilith takes a breath to calm her flash of anger, Sans chokes down his fury.

Red laughs from between Sans and Lilith, not sensing their anger, “I used to give inaccurate judgments just to fuck with him. It was all bull shit anyways, Asgore’s full of shit, even the Judge said so. Trust me, I earned every scar he gave me, and enjoyed every moment of it.”

Lilith hummed, not liking the answer, but quietly goes back to scratching at Red’s skull and lets him talk.

“He sure as fuck liked it, but it was worth it.” Red shrugged as Sans worked his way down, “Always thought he was so slick, able to hurt his _Judge._ ” Red sneers, “but if he was focused on me, he wasn’t hurting Edge.”

Sans snorts, doesn’t feel any better to hear that Red was giving himself up to be hurt by Asgore for the sake of his brother, “And you _don’t_ think you deserve a second chance?”

A low, guttural noise bubbled from Red’s throat as Lilith flashes Sans a cheeky grin and his voice is a little thicker now, “Fuck off. Taking care of my baby brother is literally my one fucking job, the bare minimum. That doesn’t make me a fucking hero.”

“Sure it doesn’t.” Sans shrugs, his voice light and airy, pressing his thumb into the cushion that was stretched out and painful, making Red hiss as the vertebrae was pressed back into place.

Lilith keeps petting his skull, pressing her own thumb gently into the cushion near the top of Red’s cervical vertebrae to sooth away the pain, her own soul easing at the fact that Red was taking this all so well. Sans keeps massaging Red’s spine, easing the tension carefully in his lower body until Red starts to relax between them, sagging into the mattress.

Despite the hard-won calmness, Sans’s soul feels heavy, he worried as much as Lilith does and sometimes it’s better to just pull off the band aid, “Did the spider hurt you?” he asks quietly. 

Unlike the question about Asgore, that was answered with sarcasm and amusement, the mention of Muffet makes Red freeze under their hands and his body coils tightly again with tension. Fear rolls through his soul to steal his breath, yet Red’s safe and soothed between them. Softer then usual, malleable, and fuck it. Sans told Red what happened with Chara, a secret for a secret seemed fair.

“In my world, Muffet runs a drug ring. The bakery is a front, but she’s got four drug dens in Hotland. She runs the largest gang that side of Waterfall, and only Undyne could have kept her in line.” Red sighs, and any grin falls from Lilith and Sans’s mouths. Their souls feel heavy with dread as the amusement in Red’s voice dies.

Whatever happened with Asgore was funny to Red, despite the trauma, but this was different. This was real damage.

“But before that? No one kept her outta Waterfall. Me and my bro were apart of her crew. Found us young and starving in the streets of Hotland. We started off as drug runners, worked our way to being muscle before we skipped town and headed to Snowdin. Once we were outta stripes, we used to make extra cash on the side by ah.” Red shrugs, and Lilith feels heat from his skull as embarrassment fills him, “We used to fuck around for money.”

Sans blinks at the back of his skull, before he softly says, “There’s nothing wrong with being a prostitute. You know that right?”

Lilith is nodding venomously in agreement, “Some of the nicest people I’ve met are sex workers.” There’s no room for disagreement, and Red doesn’t doubt that Lilith has thrown hands in their defense.

Still, Red snorts, relieved that they didn’t think less of what he had done in his early adult hood, yet still doesn’t tell them just how young he had been. Doesn’t mention that he had barely been out of stripes when he started, “There isn’t. The problem laid with Muffet. When she found out what we were up to, she wanted a cut. Wanted us to work more then what we were willing to. She used to hide Spider Cider in the soup she would give us when we were working. Make us all soft and compliant.”

He snorts bitterly, missing the growing anger from both Lilith and Sans, “Did’ja know that bitch sold my ‘virginity’” and he lifts his hand to do air quotes, “Years after I lost it, like four times.”

Lilith makes a strangled noise and fury sweeps through Sans’s soul and it wedges in his throat.

“I mean, the shit Asgore did ta me hurt, and don’t get me wrong, he tortured us. But what Muffet did?” Red snorts, as if this is all funny, like some kind of cosmic joke, “Muffet was next level shit. She knows how to break a person. Asgore’s not refined to do what she did.”

He rolls over, brushing Sans’s hands off his body, his spine is close enough to being okay to leave it, but he still winces as he shifts to look up at Sans and Lilith. His head is still nestled in Lilith’s lap, and Sans is pressed close to his scared body, and he grins darkly up at them. He drinks in their anger, savoring it like something sweet, and Sans is right, it’s overwhelming as fuck to have people read to burn down the world for you.

But its not awful either.

“Tell me, what does your Den instincts say about that? What does Fate say about someone hurting a Den mate, about them hurting me?” his tone is vicious, like he’s expecting a diplomatic answer and he doubts they’d care enough about him to give him anything but.

Lilith lays a hand over the crown of his skull, thumb brushing at his temple as her eyes flood crimson. The touch is the exact opposite to the hard, angry expression on her face, its soft and gentle, and it makes Red sigh and his sockets sink shut. Sans leans into Red’s side, yellow magic filling his eye lights just as suddenly, and he’s filled with just as much anger.

“I’d burn down Hotland.” Lilith told him with an eery calm that makes Red open his sockets again, and he doesn’t doubt her for a moment that she’d find a way. She would burn down Hotland for him. Its an odd concept that she would move with that much brutality, for _him_ , even as her hands are still soft on his body, careful with him like he’s delicate.

Fuck, maybe right now, he was.

“You can’t burn down something that’s fireproof.” Red snorts, shaking his head at the irate battle mage and her equally angry Judge. 

“If you can’t burn something down, your just not using a proper accelerant.” Sans spits, angry at Red’s behalf and has no issue in showing his ire.

Lilith is looking deceptively calm as she nods her agreement, but Red catches the brief sour look on her face. It makes Red bark a laugh, “Even something that happened years ago?”

Sans makes a rough noise at the back of his throat, “Time doesn’t matter.”

“Not to a mage.” Lilith agrees, “And we have little love of Kings. So, the Capital would have to go as well.” Red’s expecting Sans to be a rational voice of reason, and he’s not sure if he’s disappointed or delighted when the _Judge_ of this world nods his agreement. Delighted, Red thinks.

Blinking up at them, eye lights still murky with diluted pain, Red gave them both a crooked grin, “You two are fucked.” It makes Sans and Lilith rolls their eyes at him even as Red barks another laugh, “Fuck, that must be why I’m your Den mate. No other explanation makes sense why you would be stuck with me.”

“We aren’t stuck with you Red.” Lilith tells him as the magic dulls from her eyes, softening back to brown.

It warms something in Red’s soul, something he thought was long dead, and he relaxes back into the mage a little more. That weird, soothing feeling easing him down, and his sockets go heavy.

“You staying the night?” Sans asks with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his sockets, his own looking heavy with exhaustion. Its stupidly late, and they should be asleep by now.

Red shrugs, “Sure.” Yet the thought of moving is too great, and he lets his sockets sink shut. He lets Lilith and Sans sigh over him, and nudge him to lay the right way on their bed. He lets his body feel heavy as he allows himself to be arranged how they see fit, _trusts_ in that weird bonded sort of way that they won’t hurt him. He _gives_ a little, and it’s a scary, weird feeling, one he’s still undecided if he likes.

He feels Sans curl up at his spine, a warm line of comfort when Lilith turns off the light, before she boxes him in, stretching out her arm to touch Sans. Red feels her sigh against the top of his skull when she touches her mate, feeling warm when she cuddles into him.

Curling between the two, Red knows the truth, despite his own jokes and cruel words.

They would burn down Hotland and the Capital for him, and he doesn’t doubt their conviction. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that they would keep him safe and shed blood for someone as worthless as he is. Someone who doesn’t _deserve_ that loyalty, and yet, here he was.

Their Den mates, and he doesn’t doubt for a moment that he would do the same for them. Murder any adversary, dispose of any threat, to keep them safe. He can feel it in the core of his soul, like a dull ache or healing bruise. Or maybe, its like something that was missing was slotted back into place, and his soul is a little out of order but it’s getting better.

It’s an odd feeling, to have someone care. Someone that wasn’t his brother, Edge was always there, always had his back when there were so few they could trust. His brother was all Red had.

Yet, he had people now, his own people. Not just Nightmare and the others, and not just something he slapped a title on so he could pretend it was just a job. He _had_ people who cared.

Sure, he had the kid and Edge, he had no doubts about that. He also had the Crew, and as much as they liked to joke that they didn’t care, they did. If anyone laid hands on one of _his_ boys, Red and Glass would make sure they knew the consequences to the action.

Yet, Red also had a terrifying Den of mages who had been brutalized by war and come out stronger for it. Vicious enough to march undaunted into a war that was not theirs by virtue to save Sin, but merciful enough to pieces of shit like them show kindness.

Weird, strange creatures, mages where.

Curling between them, Red settles and sleeps a dreamless rest for once. He’s not plagued by nightmares or pain, knows that he’s in the safest place he could be. Hesitantly, he wraps his arm around Lilith’s lower ribs and takes Sans hand when he wraps his arm around Red’s chest.

For once, Red just _sleeps_ and accepts that life may get better for them.

-

It wasn’t her alarm that woke her up, but the panicked, _terrified_ intent that was like a banshee’s scream in her soul. Lilith’s eyes snapped open from a dead sleep as the panic that didn’t belong to her slammed in her, and for one horrible moment, nostalgia swelled in the worse way.

It was like in the war, just before sirens blared that they were under attack and the first few soldiers knew something was wrong, and their souls screamed to the others to wake up before they were snuffed out.

Lilith shoves it down, knows she’s only on edge because Felix was last night, and her own instinct was ruffled because of it.

Slowly pushing herself up, Lilith glances to Red and Sans, still deep in sleep, their brows smoothed out and peaceful. Their breathing was deep and slow, unbothered by nightmares.

Red’s still clinging to her when she moves, murmuring in his sleep when she eases his arm from around her ribs, dull eye lights blinking open at the disruption, “Wha time izit?” his words are slurred with exhaustion at the early morning.

“It’s okay.” Lilith soothes him quietly, “Go back to sleep.”

Red grunts, rolls over to press himself against Sans as his sockets sink shut. Sans makes a small noise, his arms curling around Red’s back as he tucks Red under his chin and settles back into sleep. Lilith grins, feels something warm in her chest at the sight of them sleeping together, actually getting a decent rest.

This wouldn’t be so bad, Lilith thinks. With a grin, she brushes a kiss over Sans’s skull, earning a happy sigh from him and her soul swells with love for him.

The panic gets stronger and knocks all the warmth from Lilith’s chest, and cold dread fills her belly. Easing herself from the bed, she pads to her door just as there’s a sharp rap against the wood, and the terror from the other side intensifies.

Thinking it’s likely Felix needing someone to go on patrol with him, Lilith eases down and relaxes as she pulls the door open. Surprise hits her when she finds Edge on the other side of the door, looking coiled tight and ready to snap, his eye lights nothing but panicked pin pricks.

His shoulders were in a tight, too straight line, his jaw clenched so tightly that Lilith wouldn’t be surprised if he snapped a tooth and his fists were curled tightly at his sides. The panic only intensified when she opened the door, and any sleepiness that still clung to her, was spiked out of her head like a volleyball.

Acute awareness filled her suddenly, snapping her wide awake and magic turned her eyes crimson, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my brother.” Edge tells her in a rush, the upset in his voice palatable and the panic makes Lilith’s soul squeeze automatically.

Individually the words make sense, and she understand each one. Strung together in a sentence, Lilith’s mind can’t make any sense of it because _she_ had Red. Tucked away safe and sound in her bed, “What?”

Edge mistakes her confusion for the kind that would agree that Red being missing is a weird thing, and not the fact that Lilith knows where he is. “I can’t find him.” Edge tells her again, each word more upset then the last, earning a slow, confused blink, “I was going to wake him up, mostly to annoy him and ask if he wanted to go for a run, and he’s not in his room.”

The panic is starting to show on Edge’s face, and Lilith _gets_ it, especially in light of the issue with Chara, “He’s not in the kitchen or the dinning room. He’s not in any of the bathrooms or on the porch. I don’t know where he is,” and Lilith can see Edge working himself up, can see the terror that his bother is missing on his usually controlled expression, “Red has problems, I know he does, and sometimes he gets in a bad way. And I just…what if Chara has him? Or worse?”

Lilith knows there is worse then Chara, even in their own plane of existence but she needs to calm Edge down. She doesn’t want him to be upset, and her heart hurts just seeing him like this. Gently, like she’s not trying to spook a wild animal, she grips his shoulder through his soft t-shirt, “Edge.” Her voice is firm but kind, “It’s okay, calm down. I have Red. He’s with me.”

Edge blinks at her like he’s trying to make her words make sense, “What?”

Lilith nods and takes a sidestep, allowing him to peer into her dark room and to the two sleeping lumps in her bed, “I found him last night in the kitchen.” She explained as gently as she could, “His vertebrae were out of line, Sans massaged it back into place. He’s safe.”

“Oh.” All the fear came pouring out of Edge, and like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his knees go weak and give out from under him. Lilith cursed and caught him as best she could, easing him to the floor as his chest heaved with sweet relief.

They land in a heap by her door in a tangle of limps, and somehow, she’s managed to get Edge pressed against her body, his skull tucked under her chin as he trembles like he’s cold. “Easy,” Lilith croons against his pitted skull, “You’re okay. He’s okay. It’s all good.”

Edge’s chest heaves as emotion rolls through him, and relief so intense it almost hurts, “I thought he was dead.” Edge gasps out through clenched teeth that were pressed into Lilith’s collar bone.

She nods, her hand soft at the back of his skull, “I know. I’m sorry. He’s okay.” And she squeezed him tighter to her chest.

She doesn’t keep track of how long they sit in the dark hallway, her back pressed uncomfortably against the frame of the door, but Lilith doesn’t move until Edge does. She sits around him quietly in the deep shadows of the moonless night like armor and tries not to think how many times she’s done this for Sans. Doesn’t want to think how many times she’s been his shield from the horrors of the world.

She does wonder, has anyone protected the Crew from the terror of the multiverse, or was this a completely novel experience for them? Had anyone ever _cared_ before? Had anyone ever tended to their wounds, or held them or even told them they were going to be okay?

Lilith had her doubts, and she holds Edge tightly.

Edge stirs, pulling away from her tight embrace, looking embarrassed that he was coddled in the hallway by her room, and barely swallowed back his own humiliation, “My apologies Lilith.” His voice is small and gruff, and it makes Lilith frown, “I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

He carefully untangles himself from her embrace, pushing himself to his feed as a hot blush scalded his face.

Lilith is quick to follow him up, hovering near him and hesitating to touch. She doesn’t want to scare Edge off, and with Red being the one who figured it out, she had no good excuse to touch him, “It’s fine Edge. It was just your bodies reaction, no harm no foul.” She pauses, looking uncertain, “Are you okay?”

Her soul hurts when she sees his mental walls being rebuilt, brick by painful brick as he closes himself off again. Hides himself away when he can’t bare to allow anyone to see him hurting.

“I’m fine.” His voice is cold, dead in a way that makes Lilith frown at him and her soul throb.

Edge doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this, this weird post panic and hurt at being forgotten, but its as if she can sense he needs _something,_ it makes Lilith soften a little more, “You know what fine stands for right?”

Looking down, Edge doesn’t offer her a proper answer, only a bitter snort that makes her frown sadly at him, “Yes, I remember.” He can’t look at her, not when he’s feeling so raw and when she’s always seen him at his worse.

He has so much shame welling up inside suddenly, and his latest outburst isn’t helping. His soul feels heavy, and he _hurts_ although he can’t say exactly why.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Lilith quietly asks, “Do you want to come nap with us?”

Before all this, when his name had still been Papyrus and he was the Captain of the Royal Guard, napping was something his lazy brother did to avoid working. Napping was not something he could afford.

The gentle offer does things to his soul that Edge doesn’t understand, and he has no idea why he wants it so badly. He can’t get words passed the clog in his throat, and all he can do is nod yes.

He can’t understand why he feels like this, _~~it could be the kidnapping, his LV, the general awfulness of Underfell,~~_ or why shame keeps swelling like a festering wound every time he screws up. He can’t understand why he feels a wall of shame anytime he lets anyone see that maybe, he’s not as alright as he likes to pretend he is.

Lilith nods, slowly reaching for his wrist, she tugs him inside her room, and it’s not the first time he’s been here. It’s not the first time he’s been in her bed, but it’s the first time he’s needed her more then she’s needed him here.

It’s a weird role reversal, and Edge doesn’t know what to do with it or the feelings that keep swelling up to hurt his soul.

He doesn’t know why he so badly wants to be included.

In the safety of Lilith and Sans’s room, Edge allows himself to be led to their bed and drawn down into he soft, warm sheets. Pressed into the bed between Lilith and Sans, Edge allows himself to be tucked back in under her chin and lets himself be held for once.

He’ll never speak of it outside those walls, but the warmth from her body is a pleasant one that sends butterflies to his soul and hopes that he isn’t intruding on anything.

Yet, no. It looks like they are all just sleeping.

Even when Sans wakes up with a small snort, bleary white eye lights barely able to focus as Edge was gentled into their bed, he looks ready to go back to sleep, “Edge?” his voice is thick and already his sockets are sinking.

Edge still has that weird wedge in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow down.

“It’s okay love. He’s just a bit upset that he couldn’t find Red.” Lilith answers for him, her voice gentle and kind.

“Oh. Okay.” As if that answers everything. Maybe it did for them.

Sans turns in his bed, snuggling into Edge’s back, warm and soft as his arms go around his lower ribs and drifts back to sleep. Red isn’t far behind Sans, making a small displeased sound in his sleep as his hand searches for Sans, all the while Edge is watching it happen quietly, safe in Lilith’s arms.

Red finds him eventually, pulls himself flush to Sans’s spine and settles back down, curling himself around Sans like a second skin.

Heh, they would have gotten a kick outta that one. Edge will save his own ears and _not_ tell them.

Lilith sighs, and the bed is a little too tight, not quiet built for a human and three skeletons, especially one Edge’s height. Yet, they curl together, safe and warm, Lilith’s gentle fingers at the back of his skull, and slowly Edge lets go of his panic.

Not his shame, no that’s harder to shake, but at least tucked here, between the mage and her judge, Edge feels a little better about himself.

And that’s a start.


	27. Midnight: The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloan wakes up to find Nightmare is unwell. They have a talk about why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> A new chapter and light warnings in this one. It's pretty fluffy all things considering. Two more chapters until the hurt starts again. :D
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: Illness, vomiting, very brief discussion of Sin's kidnapping. I think that's it?

It’s a weird, wet noise that nudges Sloan awake. It’s not sharp like an alarm clock would be, but something soft and gentle, but wrong. Something that she wouldn’t normally hear in her room at night, almost like something wet and viscous dripping into a puddle, and Sloan is almost disgruntled when she slowly wakes up. She clung to her delightful dream, the wisps of it melting from memory and the harder she tries to hold on to it the faster the dream disappears.

If she focuses a little as the dream slips away, she’s pretty sure its one where the Crew stay with them, safe and away from multiverse bullshit. Bullshit they brought upon themselves, no doubt, but bullshit none the less. 

With a sigh, Sloan shifts in her bed and lets the dream slip away with a great deal of reluctance; she snuggles back into her soft sheets, enjoying the smooth glide over her bare legs, feeling delightfully happy in her bed. Next to her, tucked safely away in her sheets, Sin is asleep on his back, sprawled out as long and as wide as his thin body could. Sloan was more on him then off, her head tucked on his chest with her leg thrown over his.

One arm was curled behind the pillow that he had claimed as his while the other snugged around Sloan’s shoulders, soft in his sleep, his skull tilted to rest on the crown of her head. He’s snuggly and soft, snoring gently over Sloan’s ear with his chest moving slowly up and down.

Sleepily, Sloan rubs at her eyes, glad that Sin is sleeping well, and the bruises have started to fade from his bones after a week of rest and care, leaving him splotchy yellow rather than purple and black. He’d only had a few sessions with Dr. Tracy, and he’s barely begun to scratch the surface of the trauma of what happened, but her Coven’s healers had approved the anti-anxiety medication. That, as a result, helped him sleep a little better, helped ease his fear, his terror, that this was still a dream and he was still trapped in his home world.

Sloan understood, she didn’t sleep well after the war, knew that none of them did, and would let Sin get what peaceful rest he could get.

Easing herself up, Sloan rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a sigh before she carefully untangled herself from Sin’s arms. That earned her a small groan from the tall skeleton, and he twisted towards her, sockets blinking open at the disruption of his sleep.

“What izit?” his words are slurred, and already his sockets are sinking back down as he starts to drift back to sleep.

Sloan groans in answer, blinking around her room, looking into the dark for the source of the noise, its soft and wet, almost like sludge dripping into a puddle. The bed next to her is empty, the blankets cold from where Nightmare usually slept rather then warm, so he hasn’t been missing long.

Sloan wakes a little more and blinks into the dark as her eyes adjust, the shadows around them are thick and heavy, and she can barely see Nightmare, he’s a shadow within a shadow. Hardly, Sloan can see him knelt before the little trashcan she kept in her room, curled tightly around it as he heaved into it. It sounded like something wet was tearing with every trembling heave of his shoulders, every painful roll of his body, and it takes Sloan’s addled mind a moment to realize that he’s vomiting. 

“Nights is sick.” She told Sin as she woke a little more, and that’s enough to make him shake off sleep as well.

Throwing her legs over the side of her bed, Sloan is quick to cross the small space between her and Nightmare, behind her Sin is pushing himself up, hesitating as Sloan dropped to her knees next to him. Her hand finds his shoulder and when she squeezes, she frowns as he trembles with every painful heave, more corrupted magic leaking from his mouth.

“Nightmare?” her voice is soft, and it earns a shake of his head as he retches into the trashcan. Sloan bites her lower lip as Sin flicks on the lamp next to her bed, the gentle light chasing away the shadows to bathe them in soft yellow.

Nightmare looks terrible. His body less formed then normal, almost dripping and wet as he slumped forward, his eye light dull and hazy and the remaining light shards shone hotly through his body. He feels oddly warmer under Sloan’s hand, and he pants likes he’s run a marathon. It makes something uncomfortable coil tightly in Sloan’s chest with worry, “Are you sick?”

Looking up at her, Nightmare gives her a dark look, one that Sloan isn’t upset to see. If he can sass her, he’s not a sick as he looks, “No.” he manages before his body heaves again and corrupted magic spills from between his blunt teeth.

It’s weird to watch, sort of like watching something that is not quite _right_ , almost like catching glimpses of something that’s not bipedal moving in the dark.

He’s stripped off his sweater and t-shirt, they’re both laying in a goopy pile on the floor where he yanked them off, leaving him shirtless. His body has retained its skeletal form, and it feels weird to watch his body heave and tremble, but nothing came up from his empty abdomen as his soul rejects the magic of his body. More corrupted magic is spilled into her trashcan, and it takes Sloan a moment to realize it _is_ coming from his soul.

Behind his ribs, his soul is summoned and pulsing rapidly, like a rabbit caught in a snare or the brutal pounding of a panicked heart. Glowing weakly from Nightmare’s rib cage, his dark soul looks unwell with the summoned shard of light shining overly bright and lit his soul painfully, if not unnaturally, from the inside. It must hurt, beyond imaginable, and Sloan winces as she feels her own soul warble a song of comfort. Nightmare’s soul trills back in kind, but it’s weak and full of agony, and Sloan is certain he doesn’t realize how much he’s just told her with that little flare of magic.

Sin drops gracefully on Nightmare’s other side, giving the smaller monster something to lean into should he choose to; he’s dressed in his soft shorts and t-shirt, wincing at the thick magic that filled the trashcan, “Nightmare?” worry is etched in the line of his shoulders and the tight expression that twists his face.

“It’s fine.” Nightmare managed between clenched teeth, making Sloan and Sin share a frown over his head, “Just too many positive feelings.” His body heaves again, like it wants to purge but nothing comes up. Whether from the fact that Nightmare’s body can’t afford to let go of anymore magic, or if he simply doesn’t have anything else left to give, Sloan isn’t sure.

Neither prospect makes her comfortable, and she worries, “What do you mean? We’ve both been asleep.” She points out as gently as she can.

It earns her a snort, and Nightmare sags into the can a little more, “Your dreams.” He explains, voice thick and his throat raw, “You’re having a good dream.”

Sloan blinks at him, thinks about the pleasant dream she had been having of the Crew staying with them, safe and loved like Den mates should be. “Oh.” She frowns at his words and hates that she doesn’t know how to help him. Hates that she’s so _uncertain_ around these Den mates and their growing needs.

It was so different from how the others are, her brothers and sister. The Crew are amazing in their own ways, but sometimes they leave Sloan floundering in a sea of uncertainty and fear that she isn’t doing enough for them.

Sin snorts, loud and ungraceful despite the smirk that twists at his mouth, and Sloan is grateful he doesn’t share her sentiment of not know what to do to help, “I’ll try to have less happy dreams Nightmare. I’m sure the trauma will work itself up again.” There’s no heat to his voice, just a dark amusement that Sloan is starting to grow fond of.

Nightmare barks a weak laugh, “If you could.” He presses his forehead to the lip of the trashcan, the spoiled magic sloshing around inside, feeling weak and ill, “Else I’ll have to go sleep under Red’s bed. He’s got some delightful nightmares to feed from.”

Sin grins, its cold and no less amused, “A pity Cross left. He had some good ones.” And Sloan pauses at the vicious tone there. There’s an underlining anger in Sin’s voice, a clear dislike for whoever this was. 

Nightmare nods, even as Sloan sighs, muttering _oh my Fates_ under her breath. She knows she shouldn’t be amused by their words, but she is, and she wants to keep them talking.

“Cross always had good nightmares. Always so sweet, like candy, and he had them commonly enough.” Nightmare still sounds sick, like his mouth if flooded with magic, making it difficult to speak.

Neither Sloan nor Sin make mention of it.

“We were all so cruel to him. I can’t _imagine_ why he left.” Nightmare mutters, finally sitting up to wipe the sweat from his skull before he spat a clot of magic from his mouth, breathing slowly through his nose.

Sin hums and gives a little shrug, “Well, he was a dick too. Picked fights with Crow and Gore constantly. Let Rips get under his skin.” Sin paused, his smirk growing a little colder, “I’m pretty sure he had a fully fleshed out plan to murder Red before he left.”

“To be fair, Red’s a bigger dick then he is.” Nightmare reminds him, “So that doesn’t surprise me.” He laughs a little bitterly, “Lilith has grown rather fond of Red despite his _charming_ personality, would be interesting to see how she would react to Cross trying to get under Red’s skin now.” His voice is still weak and he’s still leaning against the trashcan, and it does nothing to put Sloan at ease. She can _see_ Nightmare suffering despite his sarcasm.

Sin shrugs, shifting a little closer to Nightmare, and Sloan recognizes it in his body posture that he’s getting ready to catch Nightmare should he go face first into his own vomit, it’s a maneuver she’s done for her own many times before with varying success. Sin snorts at the pun, “I don’t think she’d let Cross get within a hundred yards of Red before she drop kicked him into a new universe.”

It makes Nightmare grunt in agreement, but he still doesn’t move from his slumping posture, “It would serve him right.”

“Not to be nosey,” Sloan starts gently, the hand moving slowly from Nightmare’s shoulder to the back of his neck, her thumb brushing softly at the vertebrae. It sends a shiver down his mostly naked body, and he presses into the touch, taking the comfort she’s giving so willingly, “but who’s Cross again?”

Nightmare and Sin are quiet for a moment, both suddenly staring at anything but her and Sloan feels her stomach drop a little. Nothing good comes from avoidance like that, and neither monster will look at her.

Suspicions grows when she quietly asks, “Did something happen?”

Nightmare sighs, pressing into the trashcan hiding his face as Sin looks up at the ceiling like it will save him. It makes Sloan narrow her eyes, and her mouth pulls into a frown, “Did he hurt you?”

“Not in the way you are thinking.” Nightmare mutters thickly, spitting another glob of magic into the bucket, “You need to understand Sloan, before all this,” and he lazily gestures to all of himself, “I didn’t give much of a shit about anything.”

Sloan pauses, knows this is heading into dangerous territory, sensitive territory, and she should be careful. A grin curls at her mouth, “You mean less then now?”

She knows she hits her mark when Nightmare barks a bitter laugh, “Much less then now.” He tells her, voice thick and breaking a little, “Without all this light invasively shoved into places it shouldn’t be, I cared a whole lot less.” He weakly lifts his head to give her a dark grin, but it falls quickly, and he sags into the trashcan, “But I managed to scrape together a few iotas of something to not hate my Crew.”

Sloan glances to Sin, and he’s found an interesting spot on her wall, looking irritated as his lip curls into a silent snarl. His soul pulses in irritation and righteous fury in which Sloan is certain will be justified.

“I cared in what way I could about them, offered them a deal of sorts, mostly. I gave them revenge, an outlet for all that anger, and a safe place for their loved ones who needed protection.” His words are weak with exhaustion but not shame, it simply was what it was, “And in return they would sow chaos for me to feed from. Murder was easy, its _hard_ to manipulate people into fighting consistently but the output of negative emotion makes for a better meal.”

Sloan nods, can see that it makes sense in a sick sort of way, “How does Cross fit into this?”

Nightmare sighs again, “Getting there.” He swallows back another clot of magic, “Cross was different. Delightful, in a fucked-up way. If we’re all an aspect of Sans, a concentrated version of his traits, then Cross got all his anger.”

Sloan frowns, keeps her hand on his neck, her thumb brushing softly at his vertebrae. Sin finally snaps out of his staring contest with the wall to lean forward to mock whisper, “I got all his sex appeal.”

Grinning, Sloan whispers back, “Thank Fate someone did.” And the amused smirk that crawls over his mouth makes Sloan feel not so heavy, doesn’t dread the conversation quite as much.

“A pity you don’t use it effectively.” Nightmare rasps between them, drawing an insulted look from Sin and a high laugh from Sloan.

“Gee, thanks Nights.” Nightmare can hear the amused inflection in Sin’s voice, is starting to recognize other emotions other then anger the longer he spends in this world, and sees that Sin means no offence. Sees he’s only being a brat, and it means nothing of Nightmare’s character.

It makes him feel not so terrible about himself.

“Your welcome.” He sighs out with the same amused tone, making Sin snort, “In any case, to your question my moon,” Sloan lights up at his slip, clearly she likes being called such and Nightmare feels a burst of something warm that only makes his soul feel nauseous. Still, if it makes Sloan smile like that at him, he can suffer for it, “Cross had rage for days. A well that was untapped, and I could feed from. But more to that, I got attached.” Stupidly, foolishly attached.

“At this point, the Crew as you know it now was together, with Crow, Gore and Ripper as my senior team members. Both sets of Fells and Sin had only just joined us, Glass was still six shades of fucked and I was screwing Cross.” He admits that last part in a rush, winces when Sloan blinks at him and frowns.

“So, he’s an ex?” she asks slowly, then shakes herself a little and Nightmare dreads the angry words that will surely come next, “Okay so? We all have exes. He can’t be any worse then any of Felix’s, his last ex- girl friend tried to kill him. And Fate knows that Lilith and I have had to slay a few trolls, so, everyone’s got baggage.”

Nightmare relaxes at her words, doesn’t realize just how tight he’s coiled or how heavy that particular worry was, “Yeah. Well, he left me for my brother.”

Sloan’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened, “He ditched you for your _brother_?” she sounds properly scandalized, angry even and Nightmare nods.

“Who the fuck dates their bothers ex?” she sputters, and it makes Nightmare smirk, of course she’d see it that way.

Sin nods firmly, hands going up in frustration, “Okay thank you! It was a dick move.” His eye lights roll, and he’s clearly thought a lot about this, “Both Cross and Dream are dicks, and they deserve each other.”

Sloan is nodding in agreement, puffing up as if she’s ready to fight for his virtue, silly little spell caster, there was no point now. That ship sailed long ago, and that particular betrayal never quite healed right, leaving something raw and bleeding in his soul. It was a shitty, hurtful feeling to have someone you _cared_ about when caring was already hard enough, tell you, you weren’t good enough and went for your pure, good natured twin.

In the end, he had taken the hurt he didn’t know what to do with, the pain of being told he wasn’t enough and abandoned because of it, out on the multiverse. It wasn’t exactly the healthiest of choices, but fuck, they had fun terrorizing worlds and causing chaos.

Sloan huffs and puffs up as she bristles, “You know what?” Nightmare lifts his skull weakly, still tired and worn out, “Fuck them both. Clearly you upgraded.” And she flips her hair and smirks at him.

Nightmare can’t help the grin he gives her, its darkly amused, and he can’t help but agree. His tentacles search for something to latch onto, gripping onto both Sin and Sloan, making them beam at him, “Awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Sloan laughs, and Nightmare melts at the soft noise, “Of course I am.” She leans forward, flirty and playful, her voice going throaty, “But I have good reason to be.”

Sin groans at her words, making her smirk and Nightmare can’t help but quietly agree. Sloan does have reason to be confident, and none of it has to do with her looks or power. Sloan is just a _cool_ person, and already Nightmare feels weak in the knees when she’s around, and he feels like his soul might burst when she smiles at him.

It doesn’t feel awful that she chose _him_.

With a hum Sloan suddenly pulls back and reaches to press her hand flat against Nightmare’s skull and he misses her being so close to him, “Well, as amusing as it is to listen to you two bitch about your old Crew mate, you’re _actually_ running a fever Nights. Are you sure this is only from you being near positive intent?”

Nightmare nods, enamored that she’s making the switch from playful to worried about him, and it warms him even as it makes Sloan sigh, “Well, the last soul you ate was Gaster’s.” she frowns, looking down his spine to the light shards that were clearly not helping, “Maybe monster souls don’t sustain you as long.”

Nightmare shrugs, leaning into Sin a little, making the taller monster frown as exhaustion rolls though him, “Maybe, would make sense.” His socket goes to half mast, and he’s loose against Sin’s side, “Monsters at their core are made of magic and mercy, even the bad ones. Would stand to reason that their souls wouldn’t go as far.”

Sloan nods, and Nightmare trembles when her fingers brush at his spine, “Fair. And I doubt this is helping either.” She thumbs a shard, sending another shiver up is spine, its warm and pleasant and completely not fair, “We’ll go hunting tonight. Do you want me to start working these out?”

Nightmare pauses, and sighs. Closing his socket as his soul plummets, and his voice falls flat when he finally speaks, “Perhaps we are better off addressing the real problem.”

All the soft joking and flirting is gone, and its as if the room has gone cold. Sloan’s about to ask what he means when he lifts his thin hand up and under his chest, pulling his dripping soul out. He hisses when the shard burns through him painfully, “It’s hard to dismiss with the shard, it hurts more when I do, so I keep it summoned.” He muttered darkly to her, handing his soul over.

Sin stills as the thick soul is passed over to Sloan, his mouth falling open at the show of trust, and knows that the spell caster could kill him like this. It wouldn’t take much presser and Nightmare would be gone.

Nightmare doesn’t look at Sloan, just quietly holds his soul out for her to take, leaning heavier into Sin, “Just take it.” He hisses at her in offering, his anger poorly masking his fear and Sloan shakes herself out of her shocked state, stunned that he’s handing over his soul so willingly.

Taking a breath, Sloan gives herself a moment to centre her emotions before she reaches her hands out to gently cup the wildly fluttering soul, looking almost helplessly to Sin. He’s frozen as well, stunned by this act of trust, blindly twisting so he was facing Sloan fully, allowing Nightmare to slump into his chest.

“Can you take it out?” Nightmare asks gruffly, pressing weakly into Sin ribs and refusing to look at either of them.

Startling, Sloan reminds herself that Nightmare isn’t handing his soul over just because. There’s a thick shard of light wedged into the centre of it, making him feel things he can’t regulate, and Sloan has no idea how it didn’t kill him out right.

She’s so very glad that it didn’t kill him and a small, dark part of her doesn’t want to pull it out just so she could keep the Nightmare that she’s grown fond of. The thought was there and gone in a flash, knowing that keeping it in drains him of his magic, hurts him, and Sloan won’t subject him to a lifetime of agony for her own selfishness.

Enough people have fucked Nightmare over like that, and she won’t be one of them. She’ll do her best to heal him, even at the cost of losing him. She ignores the hurt that pulses in her soul, knows that she needs to do what’s best for her hurting Den mate, and hopes that maybe things won’t be so bad if she can pull it out. Nightmare’s admitted he could feel some things before, so maybe this wouldn’t have to end.

Frowning, Sloan eases the soul towards her and its suddenly the more precious, most important thing in her world in that moment. She _knows_ she would do anything to defend him, to protect him, wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, including his brother and his angry ex.

The soul is heavy and cold in her hands but the centre radiates heat like an oven from the shard. Two opposing forces pushed painfully together into a single being, and part of Sloan worries about Nightmare. Worries what this must be doing to him, what it must feel like to have this light _shoved_ into his body, uninvited.

Sloan licks her lips to wet them and takes a breath as her thumb brushes up the centre of Nightmare’s soul. The inverted heart pulses happily even as the pad of her digit catches the tippy top of the light shard that so warm, too warm, in the centre of Nightmare’s core.

Nightmare shivers at the touch, his breathing hitching as pleasure pools low in his belly at the light touch, knows that Sloan doesn’t mean to make him feel that way as she examines his soul. He swallows back any other noise of pleasure and buries his head into Sin’s chest, refusing to call it hiding but allows himself this one moment of weakness. Fuck, he’s earned it after everything and he clings to the front of Sin’s shirt.

He allows Sloan to look over his soul carefully, feeling exposed under her careful gaze, like she can see every flaw, every dark deed that scars his soul as she genuinely looks for a way to pull it free without killing him.

His soul is heavy in her hands, dripping with thick, dark magic that looks like the same _goo_ that the rest of his body is covered in. It looks like it should fall onto her hands in thick drips, but it’s quickly reabsorbed, and the drops never fall. That’s good, she thinks, that he can hold his form, and his magic wasn’t helplessly falling between her fingers.

Sloan moves carefully, so very gentle, pressing her thumbs into the crease of Nightmare’s soul, trying to lift the stubborn shard up, earning a gasping, choking noise that draws Sin’s arms around Nightmare’s narrow shoulders lightly. Leaning forward, Sin draws Nightmare further into his embrace, holding him steady as Sloan carefully examined the soul in her hands and the shard that’s stuck so deeply.

The soul is so cold in her hands, it makes the tips of her fingers go numb, yet burn when she touches the shard that’s so deeply embedded into Nightmare’s soul. Sloan can’t help but think how much it must hurt to have it pressed so deeply inside his body, throbbing in the core of his very being, stuck so thoroughly and Sloan already knows the truth.

Nightmare sweats, his body growing hotter the more she touches his soul, and the more it hurts as she tries to get any leverage. The shard that burns through him hurts so much, and he squirms against Sin’s body as he tries to stay still.

Emotion fills him, a rarely roused devotion towards the mage and he knows she won’t betray him here, and Nightmare wonders if maybe Red and Rips had been right about the whole Den thing. Or maybe, the shard is just fucking with him.

Sloan swallows again, and Nightmare feels a pulse of concern and overwhelming grief that Sloan radiates from where she’s anchored herself to his soul. “Nightmare.” Her voice is thick with emotion, and Nightmare knows what she’s going to say before she admits the truth, “I don’t think I can pull this out.” She holds his soul so painfully gentle, “Not without killing you.” She whispers.

Nightmare doesn’t move from Sin’s chest and Sin doesn’t tighten his grip on him, just continues to hold him gently, and Nightmare _believes her._

Taking a deep breath, he shoves himself away from Sin, twisting back to face Sloan to glower darkly at his soul as if it was what has betrayed him, and it’s likely the easiest thing to blame for all of this, “What am I going to do?” he asks them, voice cold and hurt, and Sloan recognizes fear when she feels it in his soul, feels anger stirring at the unfairness of it all.

“I can’t return to the multiverse like this.” He says bitterly, “Not when my brother would feel the shard within me and know I was weakened.” It was too great an advantage and Nightmare refused to give his brother such a glaring lead. Especially with Cross spilling secrets and whispering in his ear about things that only Nightmare should know.

He laughs bitterly at the irony of it all as he drops his head into his hands, rubbing tiredly at his aching temples. The Guardian of Negative emotions, the King of the Darkness, had a tiny shard of positivity and light trapped within his soul. Hardy-har-har. Great cosmic joke, that one.

Karma really was a bitch.

Sloan doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smile at his self doubt or the self deprecation that radiates off his soul, and she frowns at the volatile, inverted heart in her hands. She takes a moment to appreciate his anger and vulnerability, takes a moment to acknowledge that Nightmare’s entire life has been torn apart, and he’s not what he once was. She knows that he hasn’t had any practice regulating these new emotions, and in the calm of what happened in Sin’s world, Nightmare is _struggling_.

Her Den mate is hurting, and there’s nothing she can do to ease it. Nothing any of them can do to make this better. Nothing for the battle mages to punch, nothing for Lola to heal, and nothing for Ryder to steal.

Nothing for her to magic away, and even if she didn’t have a hand in this hurt, she was an unintentional catalyst. She had been the one to banish Chara, venting her into the void where she could get to the Crew and maul them. Intentional or not, it really didn’t matter, and part of Sloan carried that guilt.

She would do what she could to make it alright, at least.

Nightmare crumples between her and Sin, and although he doesn’t cry, his soul revolts weakly in his anger at the unfairness of it all.

Sin deflates behind him, frowning down at the monster between them, hesitating, giving Sloan a helpless look before his hand finds Nightmare’s shoulder. Sloan continues to cradle Nightmare’s soul delicately in her hands, protecting it, from what, Sloan hadn’t figured out yet.

When neither touch is rejected, and Nightmare stays crumpled between them, Sloan braces for hostility when she gently says, “You could stay here.”

Nightmare lifts his head at the offer with a miserable frown, his chin still propped in his hands, “And do what?” he spits at her.

 _ ~~Be loved. Be cherished. Be mine~~._ Words that Sloan doesn’t speak, can’t, words that would send him running, “Help us protect our territory. Feed on the souls of the wicked. You know, fun things.” She gives him a hallow smile and can’t give him the truth.

Nightmare frowns at her, thinks about saying no immediately on principal, but he feels trapped. What other choice does he have with such a glaring vulnerability, and he hates it. Hates that any choice he once had, has been stripped away, leaving him at the mercy of a mage.

Yes, it was Sloan, and she had done nothing but show that she was trustworthy, but he still didn’t like being at anyone else’s mercy. Trusting in someone else not to do harm when _you_ were the vulnerable party, hadn’t bode well for Nightmare, or Sin really, in their pasts.

Even if it was Sloan. _~~And Nightmare did trust her, didn’t he? With his life. With his body. With the life of his Crew. Even when it was hard, when he’d been screwed over so many times and everything in him told him this was a trap, he did trust in her.~~_

“Look.” Sloan tells them quietly, can feel Nightmare’s soul pulse with misery, “You don’t need to make any decisions now. It’s just an offer. To.” She pauses, hesitates with a shrug, aiming for nonchalance “Think about it.”

Looking up at her from under his brown, Nightmare glowered at her before his eye light dropped, “Why?” his voice was ice cold and hard, despite how his soul burns.

Sloan held his steady gaze, unafraid of the monster of negativity, and Nightmare feels a flare of delight that she wasn’t afraid of him. It was still weird to feel delight, and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it.

She shrugs, “You make me happy.” She told him boldly, and almost wants to bite her tongue off at the slip of the truth, but she holds steady.

Nightmare snorts, rolling his eye light and slumping, “Sure I do.” He spits, still looking sick.

“You do.” She glances to the soul in her hands, and a smirk curls at her lips, “I would slap the shit out of your brother if I needed to.”

Sin snorts, an amused smirk crawling across his face, and he relaxes around Nightmare, “Could you? Please? We’d all enjoy it.”

Nightmare shakes his head at Sloan’s soft laugh, wincing at the burst of positivity from her soul, “I’m not saying we wouldn’t enjoy it, I’m saying we wouldn’t try to stop you.”

Sloan laughs again, and it makes both Sin and Nightmare melt a little, despite the burst of nausea from the pulse of positivity from Sloan again. Nightmare knows the truth, knows she _would_ slap Dream on his behalf, _would_ choose him over his brother. Would choose his fucked up little Crew over the Star Sanses, and that feels…well Nightmare doesn’t know that one, but it warms his bones and makes the shard feel less terrible in his soul.

“Look Nights,” she starts, any amusement falling away when she sees Nightmare looking worse for wear, “Just think about it. There’s no rush, we aren’t pushing you out.” She drops her gaze again, and Sloan cleared her throat to hide her nerves, “In the meantime. We’ll go hunting tonight for another soul.” He nods, and Sloan’s mouth curls into a smirk, “But I think I might have something that will give you some pep until then.”

Narrowing his socket, Nightmare glowers at her, at her words, “Pep?” the word feels weird in his mouth, and he gives her a disbelieving look, his tone untrusting.

Sloan continues to smirk at him before she closes her eyes and looks inward. Nightmare frowns when he doesn’t understand, “What are you doing?”

Sloan opens one eye, looking a little amused, “Shhh.” She tells him, closing it again focusing with no explanation.

Rolling his eye light, Nightmare manages to smirk at her, “You look ridiculous.” His tone still weak but taking a tone of snide immaturity. Arguing for the sake of arguing.

Sloan sighs, but her mouth is still curled into an amused grin, “Sin, dear, if you could?”

Nightmare doesn’t get the chance to ask her what he hell she’s talking about before gentle, skeletal hands reached around to his front, gentling Nightmare’s chin up and back. Sin grins, his mouth brushing against Nightmare’s before drawing him into a kiss, carefully cupping his chin and throat.

Grinning, Sloan takes a moment to watch them, watches Nightmare still, socket going wide before it sinks shut and enjoys the kiss. His tentacles loosen around them and he sighs into Sin’s mouth before he parts his teeth to allow Sin to deepen their kiss. Nightmare goes lax with a soft groan as Sin’s tongue glides over his, and Sloan bites her lower lip. It’s a good look, and one she could watch all day.

They could both use the distraction, Sloan thinks as she closes her eyes, and she focuses.

She looks inward, feels her vice purr as she reaches for it, feels a viscous need for vengeance fill her soul. She doesn’t take it fully off its chain, she doesn’t let her vice _out_ , but loosens her tight control over it only a little. Magic and power fill Sloan, filling her body and coming to the surface of her skin where she’s able to _push_ it into Nightmare.

She can hear Nightmare make a low, filthy noise when that same dark, volatile magic touches his starving soul. It drinks it in desperately like it’s his last meal and he squirms in Sin’s arms like he’s touch starved. Grinning, Sloan pulls a little more at her vice, just a little, allowing the darkness born of war to swell to the surface for Nightmare to consume.

Sloan allows the magic to bubble up until she feels her vice press a little _too_ hard against its chains, trying to push its way out of its box fully, and she starts to pull back. She wishes she could have given Nightmare a little more, something more substantial for him to cling to before they went hunting.

Yet, what she gave him would have to do, the darkness from her soul is gently pulled back, carefully rewrapped in her iron clad control and put away in it’s box for a time when they would need it. For now, it can stay semi-forgotten.

Blinking open her eyes, Sloan grins to see Nightmare leaning back into Sin, socket closed as he panted a little, and already he looks better. His body isn’t so loose and dripping, looking a little more solid as he leans back into Sin’s chest, and Sloan isn’t sure what’s got him more rattled, the darkness she pressed into his soul or Sin’s scalding kiss.

Either way, Sin is looking exceptionally pleased with himself, smirking down at Nightmare brightly as his hands smooth over Nightmare’s bare ribs. The tips of his phalange are brushing teasingly at the edges of his bones just to make Nightmare shiver.

“You are both assholes.” Nightmare pants between them, earning a bright smirk from both mage and monster.

Sin hums and doesn’t stop touching Nightmare’s ribs as Sloan shuffles forward on her knees, pressing in a little closer to them both to cage Nightmare between them.

“Maybe,” Sin agrees, all smirks and blasé about it, “but that’s why we’re your favorites.”

Nightmare quietly curses him and the truth of that.

Sloan grins and hums in agreement, giving Nightmare’s soul one last brush with her thumb, earning another shutter through his body, before she eased it back. Moving carefully, Sloan leaned forward as she presses her hand up and into Nightmare’s rib cage to carefully set his soul back behind his sternum.

Nightmare’s socket snaps up, but he doesn’t tell her to stop and doesn’t move as Sloan presses him gently against Sin’s chest, pinning him lightly to the taller monster. His soul pulses happily with how close she is to him, how warm her body is and how her lips are only a breath away from his teeth.

He doesn’t say any of this, isn’t sure what to say or do as Sloan carefully put his soul back and gently draws away, and disappointment fills him. Nightmare immediately misses the heat from her hands on him, and he’s quick to drown that thought and ignores it. He’ll take what he can get and be happy with it.

“Well, you do look better.” Sloan tells him as she sits back up, but doesn’t move away, and Nightmare is still soaking in the heat from her body, “How do you feel?”

“Better.” He manages to choke out, winces how his voice has gone shrill and curses himself for it. Blames his actions on the stupid shard of light, he knows he isn’t usually this thrown off kilter from a kiss and sharing magic.

 _Maybe it’s the Den magic._ His soul whispers, pulsing happily behind his ribs, delighted how this has played out, warming his core when Sloan smiles at him. Stupid fucking soul.

Still, he can’t help but be pleased at Sloan’s thrilled expression, “Good.” She praises, looking up to Sin, “Thank you Sin. Your help was monumental.”

Sin stops touching Nightmare’s ribs, and he instantly mourns the loss of touch and heat as Sin lifts his hands away. Shifting, Sin lifts his knees so that Nightmare is nestled, _~~safely,~~_ between them to prop his elbows on his knees. Dropping his chin into his hands over Nightmare’s skull, Sin looked equally as pleased, “Oh, it was no trouble at all.”

Rolling his eye light, Nightmare knows they’re both jerks, and that _is_ one of the reasons they’re his favorites.

Sin sighs heavily, “Well, I’m wide awake now. Do we want to get up?” he pauses, but makes no move to dislodge Nightmare from his comfortable slouch, “Shouldn’t you be getting up by now for your run?”

Sloan shrugs, knows that chances were Felix was having a hard night and Lilith likely was either with him or at the ready. “We sometimes like to have a lay in.” she wasn’t going to embarrass her brother by telling everyone his deep fear of the dark. If Felix wanted to share that, he would.

Nightmare grunts, still soft and malleable to their suggestions, knows he would happily go back to bed and sleep between Sin and Sloan. Yet, Sin is wide awake and wired, and Nightmare would do what he need to make him feel better.

Sloan pauses, then smiles when she checks the time, “We could go watch the sunrise.” Nightmare doesn’t need to see the hope on Sin’s face to know he wants to, he can feel it in the way his soul pulses in excitement, seems to _sing_ his delight. It makes Nightmare shiver even with the violent emotions that Sloan pushed into him.

“Very well.” Nightmare sighs, does it because he knows it’ll make them happy, “If you want to.”

The shard in his soul makes him feel things he hadn’t felt in years, and their delight makes his own soul sing back to their happiness. Emotions that he has no idea what to do with burst from his soul in a confusion tangle that he wished he understood.

Instead, he untangles himself quietly from Sin’s arms to get dressed, and he grins at both Sin and Sloan’s thrilled noises.

-

Nightmare sits at the edge of a natural hot spring some where up the mountain side, and was the best place to watch the sunrise, at Sloan’s insistence.

She had led he and Sin up this far into the cool summer air at five fifteen the in the morning with their swimsuits and was so _sure_ they would love it where she was taking them.

She hadn’t been wrong, Nightmare thought, but he couldn’t stop watching Sloan and Sin as he sat with his legs dipping into the comfortably hot water of the spring.

Sloan and Sin sat in the water on a flat rock, chattering about nothing as they waited for the sun to come up. The show was only starting, the tips of golden fingers of the sun only starting to tease at the treetops to chase away the shadows.

In the water, Sin is practically vibrating with excitement next to Sloan, telling her softly that he’s never seen one before, not in all the universes that they’ve been in. The warm water left Sin’s bruised body feeling better, Nightmare can see it in the way he held himself, confidently rather then hunched and afraid, bright despite the bruising that still discolored his bones.

Sloan sat next to him, her hair pulled up into a tight bun to keep her curly locks dry, and grinned at his excited words. They’d lean into each other, stealing quick, playful kisses in the early morning, hands teasing as they waited for the show to start, but always only playful; Sloan sticking to her words at taking _whatever_ this was slowly.

Nightmare watches them both with a mixture of amusement and fondness despite his neutral expression.

“You know.” Sin said suddenly, drawing Nightmare and Sloan’s eyes. He was watching the tops of the trees, his voice soft, “When I was first taken by Frisk, when she kissed me,” the words make Sloan stiffen, and Nightmare barely swallows back the snarl, “I thought of you two.”

Nightmare braces, and Sloan’s eyes soften as her heart aches before they harden, “I won’t let that bitch hurt you again.” She swears, and Sin’s bruised face softens.

Something viscous claws at Nightmare’s soul at those softly admitted words, and his soul sings its agreement. Yes, if they ever step foot in Sin’s world again, he’ll kill them all.

Sin nods his agreement, leaning into Sloan’s side, his skull on her shoulder, “I know.” He admits quietly, curling into her side.

Sloan takes his weight easily enough, cuddling with him, giving Sin what he needs, and the darkness inside Nightmare stirs, blotting out the light within, with a dark, angry need. One day, he’ll be sure to pay Frisk a little visit again, and he’ll finish what they had started.

Sin sighs, drawing Sloan in for another kiss, pulling her into his lap to better press against her front, and she laughs softly in delight. She presses back into him, pressing Sin into the wall of the hot pool as his arms go around her, and he’s so trusting.

It makes something else stir in Nightmare’s soul as he watches them, watches Sloan’s hands land softly at Sin’s shoulders as she kisses him. Promises him without words to protect him from _anything_.

Nightmare glances up at the bright sunlight that breeches the treetops and it makes Sin gasp, breaking their kiss. “Sloan look!” he breaths, getting her to turn with a soft grin as the sun rises, “It’s so beautiful.”

It is, Nightmare thinks mildly, but he isn’t watching the sunrise, he’s watching Sin and Sloan snuggle and play in the water of a hot spring. Golden light brightens their pretty faces, bathing them in wonderful light, like a breath of hope, and Nightmare wonders, if they really could stay here. 

Sin grins brightly, looking well and truly _happy_ in a way Nightmare hasn’t seen from him before, and thinks that yes, they could.

Something cruel stirs in his soul, and Nightmare silently promises to anyone listening, that he’d kill any threat to this perfect, wonderful, kind world.

He’d kill to protect _his_ new world that had become a safety net for his people. That much, he can promise.


	28. In The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster spends a day with the Den and the Crew, and realizes he has a place among them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all having a super day. :) 
> 
> This is the last fluffy, slice of life chapters for a bit and we will be getting back into darker chapters next week. There maybe a delay in next weeks chapter, I took some much needed time off last weekend and didn't get any writing done so I'm trying to play catch up. 
> 
> This chapter and next weeks chapter fought me every step of the way, (thanks Gaster and Crow) so I do hope you enjoy them. 
> 
> Enjoy :) 
> 
> WARNING: animal death mild description, character death off scene - description, mild description of Sans's time underground/murder of the fallen children, I think that was it, let me know if I missed anything.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, Gaster stares at his hands, not for the first time in awe that he was here, alive and well, with his sons and their family. His family, maybe, the Den and the Crew didn’t seem bothered by his presence and simply accepted him into their fold without questions.

Well, most of them did, and Gaster doesn’t have it in him to blame Sin for his hesitation in the aftermath of his rescue, regardless of what small comfort he had provided that horrible afternoon in the bath house. Gaster still _looked_ like the bastard from Sin’s world, especially now, and in the days after Sin’s rescue he was looking less like Nightmare and more like himself. The stolen creation magic hadn’t stopped working its way though his body, slowly restoring him to his former glory and his real body.

It had been a delightful discovery, one that was important for Sloan to understand how this sort of magic worked, but it did very little to sooth Sin’s panicked soul. It was _hard_ when he lived with someone who wore the face of his abuser.

They’d get there, Gaster was sure of it. All he had to do was be patient and gentle with him, let Sin come to him on his own terms and not push him. Gaster won’t force the issue but would be happy to quietly support him until Sin was ready to talk to him.

Gaster doesn’t mind that he avoids him, especially if it brings Sin a measure of peace to be away.

Heaving a tired sigh, Gaster closes his hands into fists briefly just to feel them move, getting used to having a body again, and tries not to dwell on what he remembers from Sin’s world. The horror he saw, the terrible, horrendous, gut wrenching things he witnessed happen to Sin, knows he could not have done anything else to save this poor version of his son. Knows that he _did_ provide the mages with the tools necessary to get him back and left it in their hands to protect Sin.

Still, that doesn’t help sooth the memories burned into his soul, the trauma of being a witness and sometimes, when it was quiet at night, Gaster couldn’t stop seeing what they did. In his dreams, his horrible nightmares, it’s sometimes Sans who replaces Sin, and it is no more or less terrible to see his son hurt.

Frankly, Gaster didn’t want to see any of these boys harmed.

Taking a breath, he stands and dresses for the day, straight black pants, and a turtleneck despite the heat of the early summer, and it’s a comfort to wear something that reminds him of home.

The clock blinks at him in green neon, declaring that its six o’two in the morning, and even if the mages hadn’t gone for their daily run, he can hear them getting up now. Muffled footsteps against the floor, and softly spoken good mornings are proof of life, that the wonderful beings that lived here hadn’t disappeared into the dark, and that soothes any turmoil in his soul. The compound breaths with life as the sun rises, bathing their world in light, and Gaster can breathe easy.

He hears Wine speaking softly to Felix, about what he can’t be sure, but it warms his soul to see those two getting along so well. Still, Gaster suspects that there was more at play last night, and no one got an easy sleep.

Taking a breath, he opens the door to his room and goes to start his day.

-

Its still early and breakfast is only just being started, and already Gaster can hear Lola moving around in the kitchen. He doesn’t doubt that one or two of the others would be in there to help as well, knows that she’s only there already because she _likes_ cooking. She _likes_ being able to provide for the others this way, even if who cooks breakfast is usually decided by their usually brutal jog.

The gentle noises of Lola moving pans around the kitchen brings a grin to Gaster’s face as he slips into the room, as does seeing Lola moving lightly around the kitchen, pulling out pancake mix and bread from the shelf. She gives Gaster a beaming smile as Glass shuffles sleepily into the kitchen behind him, rubbing at his sockets, not bothering to acknowledge Gaster.

Gaster smiles at them both when Glass flops down boneless at the little island that they used as a prep area, arms crossing over the marble surface as his skull dropped onto arms.

“Good morning.” Lola chirped happily to them both, giving them a wide smile as she pulled fresh eggs from the fridge.

Gaster _thinks_ Glass has said good morning in return, if his mumbled, garbled words could be considered a language. Yet, Lola grins and pours him a cup of freshly brewed coffee and sets it down in front of him. A long, skeletal hand blindly reaches for it, the tips of his phalange landing sloppily at the rim, spilling some of the dark liquid as Glass weakly drags it to his skull.

He takes an equally sloppy mouthful, groaning as the caffeine hits his summoned tongue in sheer delight, “Thank you Lola.” He whispered like a prayer before his head when back down.

Lola drinks from her own mug with a laugh, patting his skull sympathetically before she goes back to getting breakfast started.

Smiling at them both, Gaster tilts his head towards the mage, “Good morning Lola.” He’s polite as ever, grinning at her as she buzzes around the kitchen, “How are you this morning?” Its such a normal start to a conversation, something that Gaster desperately missed in the void, and his loneliness had been made worse when his only companion had been Chara.

He’s thankful that Lola is not Chara as she sidesteps him easily as he pours himself his own mug of coffee, and he glances to Glass, still mostly unresponsive at the island. He feels any anxiety from when he first woke up rushing away, like water flowing down a river, and he relaxes in their company.

“Good.” Lola chirps again with the same cheer, telling Gaster that she, at least, slept well, and earning a groan from Glass. She gives him a painfully fond look before she continues, “Don’t mind him, Glass doesn’t do mornings and really isn’t awake until he gets through a mug of coffee this early.”

“Naturally.” Gaster agreed softly, carefully neutral, “Would you like some assistance this morning?”

Lola grins, “Thanks Gaster. Do you know how to make French toast?” her wide, cheery smile got impossibly wider at his nod yes, “Great! Do you want to start on that? All the boys like to have that one.”

Gaster nods at her request, adding milk to his coffee before he gets to mixing his ingredients, and Glass groans again, “So fucking perky.”

Gaster huffs a small laugh as he starts working on French toast, and Lola’s giggle is high and happy at Glass’s muttered words, “Well, some of us can do mornings Glass.”

Glass hums again but doesn’t lift his skull from his arms and Gaster is certain he can hear a gentle snore. Lola gives him another soft grin, patting his shoulder sympathetically before she unexpectedly opens the oven to peer inside. The cheery smile fell a little, and Gaster startles to hear Lola curse before she reaches into the cold oven to pull something out.

“He do it again?” Glass’s muffled voice asks at her disheartened sigh, drawing a confused frown back to them both.

“He sure did.” Lola’s cheer sounds a little more strained now, and it makes Glass laugh darkly at an inside joke that Gaster isn’t privy too.

Glass manages to peel his skull from his arms to take another mouthful of coffee, his voice still tiered but that dark amusement remains, “What was it this time?”

Gaster feels confusion spread like a virus as Lola takes the dirty pan from the oven and carefully places it on the island near Glass. His grin falls and his non-existent stomach churns at the dead squirrel nestled carefully on the pan, and Gaster’s mouth falls open a little.

“Squirrel this time.” She sighs, and this is clearly not the first time she’s found something like this, and Gaster can’t help but be a little disturbed by the nonchalant reaction to fining a dead animal in her oven, “I really wish he would skin them, if he’s going to keep doing this.”

Glass grunts, taking another mouthful of coffee, not seemingly bothered by the deceased animal on the pan, “A shame he keeps killing squirrels. If it were rabbits at least they’d have some decent meat on its bones.” 

Lola makes a throaty noise of agreement as she pulls a small box from one of the cupboards to carefully scrap the remains of the squirrel into it, acting as if this was a normal occurrence. Clearly, this is not their first rodeo if they’re both being so calm about it.

Gaster can only stare on in shock that he’s slow to shake off, “What. What is that all about?” he sounds a little choked up, his voice thick at the sight of the blood.

Glass gives him a tired look as Lola glanced up from what she was doing, wincing a little, “Sorry Gaster, I should have warned you.” She gives him a sympathetic smile, “Gore thinks we’re terrible hunters.” As if that explains it, and Gaster doesn’t quiet get what she’s talking about. He stares at her a little blankly, making Glass huff.

“He thinks it’s a travesty that we don’t have fresh meat every morning.” Glass mutters, sounding a little more awake now that he’s downed half a mug of coffee, “He hates that we keep it frozen, he feels like he needs to keep us fed.” Glass shakes his head as she sits up straight, propping his chin on his fist, “What the fuck he thinks a squirrel is going to do, I don’t fucking know.”

Lola sighs, carefully putting the lid on the box, “The point is, he’s trying to provide for us, and I think that’s sweet.” She frowns, grimacing at the pool of red t the corner of the box, “But I do wish he would stop hunting wildlife in the forest. I feel bad for the little things.” She sighs.

Glass sighs heavily, sockets drooping again, “Want me to try talking to him?”

Lola looks up and beams that milliwatt smile as she picks up the slightly damp box, her grin making Glass melt a little when it was directed at him, “Would you? I asked him to stop, but he did that weird giggle thing and told me, _sure_.” Gaster frowned when she did some finger quotes and moved to carry the box out the back door.

Glass snorted, his sockets sinking shut despite the curling smirk at his mouth, “It’s ‘cus he likes you. Don’t worry Lols, I’ll get him to stop. Or, direct his attention else where, to something more productive.”

“Thank you.” She grins at him, making her way to the back door, to do what with the tiny box, Gaster had no idea, “Oh, are you coming with us to take Sugar to Dom?”

She disappears outside with the box, and what she does with it Gaster isn’t sure, but Glass waits for her to pop back into the kitchen before he answers, “Sure. I’ll come with. Gore will probably want to come too, so I can help keep his shit together when Sug’s under.”

Gaster turns back to his French toast at Lola’s nod and smile, watching as she crosses the room to wash her hands.

“Thanks Glass. I’ll bury the little fella before we leave.” She beams a smile at him, “Thanks for coming, I know it’ll mean a lot to Gore and Sugar.”

Glass gives Lola a fond grin before he quickly hides it as she turns back to prepare breakfast, quickly lifting his mug to his mouth to hide the soft emotion he’s not supposed to feel. Gaster watches them both for a moment and allows a wave of warmth wash over his soul. They were happy here, as odd as they were, such a weird little family, and no one was denying that much. 

An odd family that loved each other deeply, and Gaster was happy to see it. For as much horror as there was in the multiverse, there was some good as well.

They jump when the back-porch door opens, and Sloan glides into the room with a toothy grin, her slim body dressed in a two piece bathing suit and a sheer wrap around her waist, “Good morning!” she chirps, leading Sin inside behind her.

They’re both damp but really, it’s not the weirdest thing Gaster has seen that very morning, even if it does make Glass raise a brow at them.

“Morning.” Lola smiles brightly to her sister and Sin, “How where the hot springs?”

Sloan sighs happily, leading Sin through the kitchen, Nightmare coming in behind them, snapping the door shut. Gaster feels a brow raise that they’re also wearing swimsuits, but despite his pulse of amusement and curling smirk, he keeps his comments to himself.

“Delightful.” Sloan tells them brightly, leading Sin past Gaster with a nod, and her hand is extraordinarily tight on his, her fingers laced through Sin’s and he clings back just as hard.

His grin seems forced, and he keeps his head down and eye lights away from Gaster, and it doesn’t take someone with a PhD to figure out he’s uncomfortable. Still, Gaster bids them good morning as she hurries Sin from the kitchen.

Nightmare follows along at a much more sedate pace, earning a grin from Glass, “Heya Boss.” And his slick words make Nightmare pause, giving him a sideways glower, “How is it tha’ you don’t, like, melt in the water?”

Nightmare pauses, tilting his head towards Glass’s grinning face, giving him a dark look briefly. Gaster stills, isn’t sure what to expect from him, not sure if this would lead to a tussle, until Nightmare’s expression cracks into a dark smirk of amusement and he flips Glass the bird.

Gaster immediately relaxes, hadn’t realized that the tension in his soul was coiled quite so tight as Glass laughs, and Nightmare follows Sloan and Sin from the room.

Yes, an odd little family, but one that cared _deeply_ about each other. Loved each other, and it warms Gaster’s newly formed soul.

-

Glancing to the clock, it blinks seven forty-two, and Gaster frowns at the papers before him.

He’s alone in the dining room now, with breakfast over and the kitchen cleaned, everyone’s gone off to do _something,_ leaving him on his own.

Again.

Suppressing a sigh, Gaster knows he shouldn’t complain, he’s getting something that not many people get, and that’s a second chance. A second chance to see his son’s grow and be apart of their lives, and not catch glimpses of them through the shafts of dirty light that penetrated the void.

Gaster knows he should be grateful, but one fact had very quickly become apparent.

Gaster didn’t know where he belonged here.

He wasn’t a fighter or a tactician. He wasn’t an all-powerful deity, or a healer or any of the other fantastical creatures that lived here. No, Gaster was a simple scientist, and that was something that was simply not needed here, no matter how intelligent he was.

Or maybe not.

Spread across the empty table is all the research that Sans had saved on the Core, all his notes, all his research, and with any luck, maybe a way to bring Chara into their world so she could be properly dealt with. Perhaps, with the energy from the Core that was no longer being used, they could harness enough magic to recreate Chara’s body. Do the reverse of what happened to him.

Gaster isn’t sure if he could make Core magic work in that way, but for the safety of all who live here, he’s going to sure as heck try.

A creek of the floor makes Gaster flinch and twist towards the doorway that leads to the hall, stilling when Sin freezes at the door.

He’s taller, lankier, then Sans, thinner and Gaster tries _not_ to compare them to his son. They maybe like him, another version of him, but they aren’t him. They’re individuals with their own history and agency, and Sin may wear his son’s face, he’s not Sans, and Gaster would do well to remember that.

Relaxing, Gaster rolls his shoulders back and down, and offers Sin a small smile, “Sin.” He greets him softly, opening his hands to show him that he has no weapon, and it hurts Gaster to see Sin relax in inches.

The tight line of his shoulders loosens a little, and his yellow eye lights glance to his open hands before they snap back to his face. Sin swallows roughly, and Gaster can see him rallying his courage as he takes a step into the kitchen, “Hey Gaster.”

Gaster quietly marvels at his strength, even if that first night Sin had been okay with proximity, but it must be horrifying to see the face of his abuser day after day, living in such close quarters. It’s something that Gaster can appreciate and won’t put Sin in any emotional turmoil to force the issue.

“How was your swim?” Gaster asks neutrally, staying within safe conversation, putting his hands flat to the table, again keeping them within Sin’s eyesight, to ensure his feeling of safety.

Sin takes a hesitant step forward, and carefully, so very carefully, pulls out the seat next to Gaster, and carefully sits down. Gaster doesn’t dare move and allows Sin to be in control here. He looks about ready to bolt, and Gaster doesn’t doubt for a moment he will, should he make any quick movement.

“Fun.” He answers quietly, looking down at his black jeans. Gaster isn’t fooled by his heavy clothing despite the morning heat, even in the house. Usually, if he were with one of the mages, typically Sloan, he would allow himself to drop his guard and wear shorts and a t-shirt, but Sin had come to see him all on his own. For that, Gaster will not question where he gets his comfort from, and if it’s heavy clothing, so be it. Sin’s afraid, terrified, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that.

“I’m glad.” Gaster nods, earning himself a hum from the younger monster next to him, and Sin keeps his eye lights down.

He glances around with uncertainty, and Gaster can see Sin clinging to his frail courage, and it hurts his soul so deeply to see him so wounded. Gaster isn’t a fool, he knows this sort of hurt will take time to heal and he won’t begrudge Sin what he needs.

Gaster _saw_ the trauma, and he knows more then anyone else just how horrific it had been.

“What are you working on?” Sin asks, voice quiet and thick, and Gaster doesn’t make a comment on it.

“I’m going over my research from the Core. I’m wondering if there is something we can use to recreate Chara’s body here.” He gives Sin a hesitant smile, “In theory, at any rate.” He said gently.

“Oh.” Sin still won’t lift his sockets, and that’s okay Gaster thinks, “That’s awesome.” His voice is still flat, but he’s still _trying_ and Gaster is so terribly proud of him.

“I like to think so.” Gaster tells him brightly, if gently, “If this is what I can contribute to keep you all safe, then this is what I will do.”

Sin gives him a watery little laugh, looking away and back towards the door to the hallway, his expression crunched with discomfort. Gaster thinks he’s going to bolt, and wouldn’t blame him, but is pleasantly surprised when Sin settles a little more into his chair, still nervous as all hell.

“That’s,” Sin tries, laughs a little brokenly and clears his throat. Gaster lets him breath, gives him space to make the call to talk or not, “You’re.” another choking laugh, “Sans is so lucky to have a dad like you.”

Gaster feels his brow raise, and Sin cringes down at his words, and Gaster sees all his hard-earned confidence crumble, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I.” he takes a shaky breath, and Gaster feels his anxiety spiking.

He wants to pull him into a hug, something to comfort Sin, anything, but Gaster isn’t foolish enough to try. Not unless he was invited, “Its fine Sin.” His voice still warbles in that otherworldly way, “That’s quite the compliment you’ve paid me, thank you.”

Shrugging, Sin still won’t look at him as he worries at his fingers, “Sure.” Sin licks at a tooth at the back of his mouth, nervous and uncertain, looking anywhere but him, “I uh. I wanted to say thank you. For,” he hesitates again, “For what you did in.” he stalls a little and rallies his courage, “In the bathhouse.”

Surprise flushes through Gaster, and for a moment all he can do is blink in surprise at Sin, “I. Of course Sin. It was,” all he could have done at the time, “It was the least I could do Sin, to help you.”

Sin still won’t look at him, maybe he can’t, “I. It meant a lot. To. To have you there.” Gaster nods, twisting in his seat to give Sin his full, undivided attention, “You know. When I was younger, all I wanted was his. I just wanted him to be.” Sin’s voice cracks and he clears his throat, “I only wanted his approval.”

Gaster’s soul feels like it’s being crushed inward, and it hurts in a way that he can’t explain, “Sin.” He clears his throat, and his brow furrows, “I want to make something clear.” Hesitant yellow eye lights lift to look up at him from under his brow, “What happened was in no way your fault.” Sin’s skull lifted and his mouth opened as if to argue, but this is a hill Gaster is willing to die on, “No Sin. No. It was not your fault. At all. Do you understand me?” his tone is firm but kind, and Gaster leaves no room for argument.

Sin’s teeth click shut, and almost numbly, he nods, but Gaster doesn’t think that Sin gets it fully, “It was not your fault Sin. It was not your fault what your,” Gaster can’t do it, doesn’t have it in him to call Sin’s Gaster, his father. Father’s don’t hurt their sons like that, only bastards did things like that, “It’s not your fault what he did to you.”

He hates how Sin’s face crumples at such an obvious statement, how he starts blinking very quickly and very hard and Gaster knows he needs to hammer this point home.

“Sin,” he tries to be as gentle as he could, “I’m so proud of you.”

Words that Sin was desperate to hear, words he may not have realized that he needed to hear are finally said out loud, setting him free in a way that Sin didn’t realize they could. A traitorous tear escaped from his sockets, and his breathing hitched that make Gaster’s soul squeeze.

Sin’s sockets dropped back to his knees, and emotion wells in his throat to choke him so that he can only nod to Gaster helplessly. Shifting his chair a little closer, Gaster fights to not touch Sin uninvited, no matter how much he wants to hug him. How much he wants to tell him everything would be okay, but not unless he was invited to hold him.

“Very proud.” He told Sin softly instead, firmly to leave no room for argument.

Gaster can see Sin struggling, gives him the space to process before his choked words worked passed the wedge in his throat, “Hey Gaster?” he’s patient with Sin, politely tilts his head with a gentle hum, “I. This might be weird, but.” He shifts, and scrubs at his face with the sleeve of his jacket, “Would it be okay…could I.” he clears his throat, his nervous energy building to a breaking point and his words become so very small, “Could I have a hug?”

Gaster blinks at him, watches Sin shrink down in on himself, self conscious, and Gaster feels his soul soften, “Of course Sin.” He told him quietly, “I would be delighted to.”

Yellow magic scalds Sin’s face, and he nods helplessly to Gaster, “Thanks.”

Gaster stands, moving slowly to open his arms to Sin, again leaving it up to him to make the move. The younger monster pulls himself out of his chair slowly, standing as well to lean into Gaster’s thin body, wrapping his arms around Gaster’s ribs. Moving slow, carefully, Gaster curled his arms around Sin, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

Sin’s stiff, his body coiled tight, his spine is like a steel rod and his shoulders are a rigid line of stress under Gaster’s arms. Slowly, moving carefully, Sin rested his skull against Gaster’s chest, and so very slowly he relaxed into Gaster’s arms.

Waiting until he moved into the hug a little tighter, Gaster squeezed Sin a little harder, pulling Sin into a full hug, and held him like he mattered. Like Sin was the most precious thing in the world to him, and it makes Sin sob quietly against him, as his hands curled into the back of Gaster’s shirt.

“Thanks Gaster.” He whispered a little brokenly into his chest, and Gaster refuses to make mention of the growing wetness.

One arm curled around Sin’s shoulders while the other hand cupped the back of his skull, and Gaster held him, “You’re welcome Sin.” He whispered back, and his soul felt lighter when Sin relaxed into his arms and allowed himself to be held.

Gaster thought that, maybe, just maybe, things could be okay. Not perfect. Not like they had been, but better then they were before.

-

Nine-thirty in the morning finds Sin back with Sloan, feeling better if a little vulnerable. Maybe a little bandaged, a soul deep wound not healed fully, but maybe a little mended.

Sin didn’t need his old family, didn’t need to think that his Gaster, the one who hurt him so badly, was the only family Sin had. No, Sin had them, the Den and the Crew, and Gaster, and that was more then enough.

Nine-thirty also finds Gaster out on the back porch with another cup of coffee in the mid morning sun, and he finds a moment of peace. A little bit of quiet in the hectic routine that was the mages lives, and his life now.

Gaster twists at the sound of the door at his back opening, then closing, and he grins as Sans steps out onto the porch. He squints in the sun light and smiles at his dad, “Morn’n dad.” He yawned, shuffling across the wooden planks in his bright pink slippers, and a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

Gaster beams at his son, “Good morning Sans.” He greeted gently, glancing to his mug and gives an amused snort. There’s a picture of the periodic table, and under the photo, written in _comic sans_ it states, _I use this mug periodically._

Grinning, Sans shuffles over to his dad, carefully dropping down next to him on the steps, careful not to drop a single drop of coffee. The murky liquid spills a little, and Sans is quick to lick up the spill from the side of his mug and fingers, making Gaster laugh. “I did the same in my college days. Couldn’t waste a drop.”

Sans glances up at him, and grins before he drops his gaze, “I never had the chance to do anything with my degree.” He says suddenly, “Barely got through college.” He shrugs and takes a mouthful of coffee.

It hurts Gaster to hear Sans say that, knew he was missing big parts of his son’s life. Lost them when he couldn’t see them from the void when they traveled passed the dirty shafts of light that allowed Gaster to steal precious moments and watch. When Gaster lost his desperate glimpse into Sans’s life.

The mages brought those shafts of light more frequently, the magic they processed drawing like magic, and Gaster was so grateful for those peeks into Sans and Papyrus’s lives. So delighted to see them so _happy_ on the surface.

Yet, still so much of their lives underground were never discussed, and this was the first time Sans broached it. Maybe it was just one of those days, but Gaster can’t help the growing dread in his soul, it feels like something heavy, like a stone, is weighing him down. Its uncomfortable and tight, and he’s desperate to shake it off.

Sans gives him a sideways look as he takes a mouthful of coffee, like he’s preparing himself to be berated or worse, for Gaster to be disappointed. It hurts his soul to think that Sans would feel like that, but it had been so long since Sans had been close to him as a child. Gaster knows he can’t expect him to open up so quickly, and he needs to tread lightly. 

Gaster isn’t disappointed that Sans never did anything with his degree, had hoped that he would have, but couldn’t be disappointed, “No?” he asks gently, non-judgmental, and knows that Sans will snap his mental defenses back into place the moment he thinks someone will look down on him. Gaster knows that Sans will hide his hurt and upset behind a well-timed joke, and things like feelings will be forgotten about or buried.

“Nah.” Sans shook his head no, relaxed a little and shifted a little closer to his dad, “Asgore found out I was the Judge.” Gaster freezes next to Sans, his smile falling and his soul plummets.

Oh. No. Angle please no, not Sans. Not _his_ son, not this curse, “His Judge?” Gaster tries to keep his tone even, but when Sans gives him another side eye, Gaster knows Sans can hear some of his concern in his voice.

Sans sighs, and slumps a bit, “Yep.” His voice goes small as he thumbs the rim of his mug. He gives a small laugh, and scratches at the back of his neck, “Yeah,” he’s got a bit more confidence, and it _hurts_ Gaster to see his son have to build himself up to talk about this, “The mages know what happened. They’re…” he gives a bitter laugh, “They get it.”

Gaster glances at him and feels his soul bottom out, “Did something happened Sans? Before, Chara?” he’s gentle despite his worry, his fear at what had been done to his son.

There’s another angry, bitter laugh from Sans, and dread fills Gaster, “Yeah, you could say that.” Sans takes a mouthful of coffee, eye lights narrowed bitterly out to the yard that Ryder repaired, “I was taking care of Paps and ‘Dyne. Her grandma got sick and passed.” Gaster’s expression twisted into something painful, he remembered Undyne’s grandmother from the war, “Put myself through school. I wanted to be just like you.”

That makes Gaster smile, but dread continues to build in his chest, that he tries to keep from his face, “That’s sweet Sans.”

Sans huffed a bitter laugh that is so unlike the giggle he remembers from Sans’s childhood, “Yeah. Well, Asgore found his Judge first, so I never got the chance. Al went off to work in the science department, I became his executioner.” Gaster froze, and frowned his soul going cold, “After Chara and Asriel died, Asgore declared war on humanity,” Gaster flinched, “And made it _illegal_ to be human underground, and well. Asgore’s LV was already so high.” Sans shrugs with a frown, taking another mouthful of his coffee.

“Sans,” Gaster asks slowly, blinking at him, “Did. What did he have you do?”

“I Judged the fallen children,” Sans told him quietly, if a little numbly, “and because of Asgore’s law, I found them at fault. I judged them according to the law, and it eventually broke the Judge.” It broke him too, it was that first blow to his mental stability that would eventually lead him to ruin for years. Would lead Sans down a dark, depressive road that he wouldn’t be able to climb out of on his own. 

“Sans.” Gaster’s voice is small, hurt, and he wishes he could have been there, wishes he hadn’t used so much of his life in services to the King that would ultimately use his son, “I’m so sorry.” Gaster pauses, stunned, and feels his soul twist, “He made you kill the fallen children?” he dreads the answer, but he _needs_ to know.

Sans shrugs, quietly takes another mouthful of his coffee, “Yeah. It’s, ah,” and he laughs but it’s a bitter, painful noise that Gaster hates. It’s a noise that Sans had never made before Gaster tumbled into the Core, “He didn’t exactly make me, but you know. I’m his Judge, I felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Like I couldn’t say no. Gave me this whole speech on responsibility to the people, and it was the only way to get out from under the mountain. With his LV so high, it only made sense that it be me.”

Anger flickered through Gaster’s soul, ice cold in a tactical, clinical sort of way and he could see it. Could see Asgore sitting his son down, barely an adult, with Asgore’s LV so high from the war and giving Sans his sob story to pull at Sans’s heart. Putting pressure on someone so young and vulnerable to save their people, how could Sans have said no.

It makes Gaster furious that the King would use his son like this, and his hands curl tightly around his mug of coffee that nearly burn his fingers.

Sans gives another nonchalant shrug, “I mean, I could have said no. Even the Judge thought it was fucked. But. It just be like that sometimes.”

It makes Gaster livid, feel guilty even. He should have been here to protect his son, should have been here to keep Sans safe and helped him through being Asgore’s Judge. Gaster can’t help but blame Asgore, fair or not, “I’ll kill him.” Gaster hissed coldly through his teeth, “Asgore should have know better. He never should have put you in that position, the Judge was never meant to be an executioner. It’s not a weapon for the King to wield.”

Sans snorted at his anger, “Yeah, King _Fluffybuns_ didn’t think so.” He turns to look up at Gaster, and the sun makes his bones look stark, more washed out, and makes Sans look _tired._ Somehow that makes Gaster angrier.

He knew, logically, he couldn’t blame Asgore for this, but Sans sometimes just didn’t look well, and the trauma of being forced into being the Judge surely didn’t help, “Eh well. If your planning a murder, you might have to get in line. I think Lilith and Felix have first dibs, and they’ve been very good at the whole do not murder the King thing.” Gaster cant help the undignified snort that works its way out, but it makes Sans grin, “Besides,” he continues mildly, “I think it would break Paps heart if they broke now and committed regicide.”

“Yes, well. _I_ didn’t offer any promise to not kill anyone.” Gaster huffs at Sans, drawing a real smile and Sans relaxes into the stairs.

“It was a long time ago.” he shrugs, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Gaster nearly chokes, doesn’t think he can get passed that his son thinks that this doesn’t matter, “Not now.” He continues with confidence, “Not since we came to the surface. Asgore isn’t in charge anymore, and no one from the royal family is, this is mage territory. They’re in charge up here, and like hell are they going to bow to a King.”

Gaster relaxes only when he sees Sans’s face soften, his smile a little brighter, “I mean, I know they’ve got _LV,_ but they use it for good. Especially Lilith, she’s so cool.” Sans grins at his dad, bright and happy, and that more then anything else soothes Gaster’s boiling anger, “She saved me.” There’s a story there, one Gaster is sure he needs to hear, but he wont push Sans for it, “And she won’t let anything hurt us anymore.”

Sans has such confidence in his mate, such belief that she would always be there, and to be fair, she had. Always right beside him and won his faith by her actions. “Yes,” Gaster agrees softly as Sans takes another mouthful of his coffee, “She is very cool.”

The words are a little awkward on Gaster’s tongue, but they make Sans smile and that makes him feel better to see his son happy. 

Sans glances down, “I never thanked you for saving her from Chara the very first time. When you brought her home.” He looks slowly up to his dad and grinned, “Thanks.”

“It was no problem Sans. I was happy to have found her.” It had been a fluke that Gaster had found her in the void, a random happening. Or maybe, if the mages were to be believed, fate.

Gaster wasn’t going to question good luck and thanked whoever orchestrated that rescue for him. The angels or Fate, Gaster wasn’t picky.

Sans grinned, leaning into Gaster’s side, pressing in for a gentle hug that Gaster is happy to give him. It’s a big step for Sans, Gaster hadn’t missed his touch aversion to new people, and what ever had happened, Gaster didn’t begrudge his son if he needed to warm up before he allowed anyone new to touch him.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Sans admitted, and Gaster took that as a sign that he was okay to hug him, carefully dropping his arm over his shoulders, “I missed you so much.”

That warms Gaster’s soul, happiness that he wasn’t sure he could even feel wrapped around his core and for a moment, Gaster was simply _happy_ , “I missed you too Sans. I’m glad to be here as well.”

Sans hummed, awkwardly drinking his coffee from the safety of his dad’s hug, “I think the others need you too.” He gave a sly grin to Gaster and a quick wink, “I saw you with Sin, but s’okay. I don’t mind sharing.”

Gaster laughs, genuinely happy at that, can’t help but be amused as he relaxes and let’s go some of his anger, “Well, I’m glad the lessons on sharing have stuck.” He tells Sans, entertained at the least, “But I must admit, I am feeling a little lost as to what my place is here.” Sans’s grin falls but he doesn’t interrupt, “I’m uncertain as to what I can offer guardians like Nightmare, and protectors like the mages. Or what I could possibly do for the others here, they’re all fighters, and I am simply not.”

Sans pulls away only enough to look Gaster in the eye, his face unusually serious, “Dad,” his tone booked no room for objections, “That’s exactly why we need you.” Gaster frowns, his head canting in confusion, “Whether you like it or not, you’ve just become the _adult_ here.” Sans grins at him, and there’s a devious glint to his eye lights, “You’ve just become the guardian of six mages, two children from other worlds, a guardian of negativity, eleven skeletons and four hell hounds.” Sans pauses, looks up and Gaster can see him counting everyone off, “Oh. And an auxiliary parent to a Den of mages that live in Pandora territory.” 

That makes Gaster burst out with laughter, such an odd, sweet concept, and it makes Sans grin, “What, you are. And trust me, we’re all annoying as hell. Just ask Paps, he’ll tell you, and now we’re all your problem.”

Wiping the mirth from his socket, Gaster sighs, “Of course, well. I suppose there are worse things.”

Sans grins, and leans back into his dads side, “Yeah. So, it’s a good thing the sharing lectures stuck, if I’m going to have to share you.”

“Very kind of you Sans.” Gaster tells him lightly, drawing Sans into a sideways hug.

Draining the last of his coffee from his mug, Sans nods, “I thought so too. Real nice of me.”

It makes Gaster laugh again, drawing Sans into a tighter hug, and for a while, Gaster lets go of any lingering anger and enjoys the moment with his son in the morning sun. This world is peaceful, and perfect for them despite the chaos, and Gaster quietly vows to do whatever it takes to keep it like this.

The birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and for now, Gaster finds peace on the surface with Sans and a couple cups of coffee.

-

Its well after lunch when he’s leaning against the arm of the couch, amusement bubbling from his soul, and Gaster presses the back of his fingers against his mouth to hide his smile of amusement. He wasn’t sure how successful he was, but the attempt was made.

Mages, as it seemed, were odd, weird creatures, who did odd, weird things when they were stressed.

Gaster might not know _why_ they were stressed, but they were amusing themselves non the less and maybe it was the _spending time_ togeather that was making them feel better.

They’ve got Red resting on the couch with a heating pad pressed against his lower spine, and he’s resting comfortably sprawled out on the cushions, his sockets half lidded. Sans has Red’s skull in his lap, and Gaster doesn’t think that Sans realizes that he’s drawing aimless patterns at the back of Red’s skull, and he doesn’t look like he minds. They’re both watching the battle mages with wide, open amusement, laughing at their attempts.

Red keeps making weird comments that have Sans sighing and Lilith shooting him amused looks that break her cold expression. Things that make Gaster pause, and struggle to understand, because he doesn’t _get_ it.

“This might be inci _den_ tal, but I have all the confi _den_ ce that you’ll make this toss.” Red groused sleepily with a grin that makes Sans laugh and Felix still.

“I dunno Red, I don’t want to bur _den_ Felix with false overconfi _den_ ce.” Felix turns from what he’s doing, eyes narrowed on Red and Sans, earning a finger guns from Sans and a waggle of Red’s fingers.

Yellow eyes filled with suspicion glance to Lilith, who gives her brother a helpless shrug before she nods towards the game she had Felix had set up. Gaster doesn’t get the joke, but he takes comfort in his son’s happiness. 

At the other end of the couch, Wine is curled lightly into the cushions, his thin delicate hand curled into a lose fist so he could rest his chin on his knuckles. He’s looking just as amused, delighted even, by the mage’s antics, and if he catches anything Sans and Red are saying, he’s not letting on.

Gaster only just suppresses a laugh when Felix sighs at them and their mirrored grins, and turns back to his game, “Why are both your boyfriend’s jerks?”

Sans snorts, and Red stills despite Wine’s laugh as Felix spreads his legs to better line up his shot. Lilith sighs, crossing her arms to give her brother a side eyed glare, “I’m only dating one of them.”

Felix snorts, head tilting as he holds his empty can of monster energy in one hand, low near his hip as he studies the empty cylinder two and half meters away from them, sitting innocently on the floor. Biting his lower lip, Felix studies it, and Gaster is so terribly amused to see Wine staring at Felix’s mouth, focusing on him worrying his lip.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Felix sounds distracted, but he shoots his sister a smirk that makes her roll her eyes before he lightly tosses the can.

It spins upwards, then down, making three rotations, and Gaster grins as they all hold their breaths in anticipation. Eyes widen, bodies tense, and even Red sits partly up as the can hits the edge of the cylinder, rolls around, teasingly, almost tipping inwards before it rolls off the edge and doesn’t land in the cylinder.

There’s a groan of disappointment, and Felix slouches in frustration, “Damn it.” He hisses, frowning as he retrieves his can and lets Lilith set up. Gaster glances to Wine, who’s still looking enamored and delighted, and Gaster is quick to hide his smirk further behind his hand.

Lilith squares up with the cylinder, a smirk curling at her mouth, “Evi _den_ tially,” and she shoots Sans and Red a grin, one they each return with amusement, “It’s up to me to uphold our reputation.”

She spreads her stance a little wider, keeping her can low and catching her tongue in her teeth in concentration, when Edge slips into the living room and frowns at them, “The hell are you all doing?”

Lilith and Felix twist to look at him, both freezing momentarily as if they were kids caught with their hands caught in a cookie jar, and it makes Gaster grins wider. Such odd, _silly_ , mages.

Lilith brightens when she sees Edge, so does Sans when Gaster casts a quick glance his way, and it warms his soul to see his son happy. To see him cuddling with Red, and relaxed, it makes Gaster _ecstatic._

“We are testing our hand eye coor _din_ ation,” she glances bemused to Sans, who tilts his hand in a seesaw motion with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes, “by tossing the can into the cylinder.”

Edge blinks at her amused face, then to Felix’s beaming one and back to Lilith. Gaster can see the gears grinding in his head as he tries to make sense of their game, “You are throwing a can into a cylinder?”

“Yes.” Lilith nods firmly, as if this weren’t bonkers and was completely normal.

Edge blinks at her again, “For fun?”

“Yes.” Felix answers this time, looking just as amused, “It’s harder then it looks.”

Edge gives them both a flat look, slowly shaking his head at the pair of them, sighing deeply. Gaster catches the amusement between the false grimace of pain when Lilith grins up at him, “You wanna try?”

“To throw a can into a cylinder?” Edge sounds unimpressed by the whole thing, as if this is beneath him, as if he thought this was beneath the battle mages. With all their training, their LV, their power on the battlefield, and they were playing a childish game, throwing a can at a cylinder.

Yet, Lilith is looking hopefully up at him, the can held carefully in her soft hand, and behind her, Sans is looking on with amused interest. Gaster watches Edge fold like a wet paper bag, and with a put-upon sigh, takes the can from Lilith, “Are there any other rules to this game of yours?”

He gives the can a distasteful look despite Lilith’s grin, “Three rotations.” Edge nods, shaking his head at them, and squares up with the cylinder.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I have done.” Edge tells them gruffly, shaking out his shoulders as his sockets narrow in on the cylinder.

Red barks a laugh, “Clearly you’re forgetting your teenage years bro.” Edge twists to give his brother a dark look, and Red makes himself more comfortable in Sans’s lap, “’Cuz, I sure didn’t.”

Sans groans, leaning his skull back into the back of the couch, “I fucking need baby Edge stories.”

Red grins like a shark whose smelled blood in the water, and Edge gives him a dark, burning look as if it’s a dare. One that Red is willing to take, “Well,” he tries to start.

“Oh Fates on fire!” Felix snaps, interrupted Red’s story, looking almost desperate at the cylinder, “Lets hear about the baby Edge later. He’s a Papyrus, he was adorable. Toss the can.”

Lilith punches her brother in the shoulder, making him wince as Lilith gave him a sour look, “Don’t be rude Felix. Maybe I want to hear baby Edge stories.”

Felix sticks his tongue out at her as he rubs his arm, clearly the most mature of the bunch, “And I want to see a can go into a cylinder. Looks like no one is getting what they want.”

Lilith narrows her eyes at her little brother, it’s a look Edge is all too familiar with having an annoying brother of his own. It’s nice to be on this side of the fence for once, it’s amusing to watch another pair of sibling’s act like children when it wasn’t his own brother being a brat.

“Children,” Edge drawls, drawing the battle mages gazes as he nonchalantly tosses the can, “Don’t fight.” He’s trying to playful chide, but their eyes lock on the can as it makes its arc, spinning the necessary three times before landing, near perfect into the cylinder.

It rattles around the cylinder once before it slips in effortlessly, as if the can had been greased or if Fate had played a hand.

It’s as if all the air in the room has been sucked out, leaving them all gaping at the can, now nestled perfectly in the cylinder at Edge’s light toss, before loud shouts and whoops of joy explode from everyone.

The chaos is a joyous one as the battle mages leap up in their excitement, their voices joined by the others in the room in a course of cheers that Edge is still stunned are for him. Lilith and Felix’s arms go around Edge in a tangle of hugs and congratulations, peels of laughter making them wheeze at the silliest of victories.

All the while, Gaster watches. Up close to that joy and sheer happiness. Sees Edge’s face go bright red and he looks down _shyly_ of all things, not used to being the centre of attention, nor having so much positive attention on him. Yet, Gaster sees the grin, sees pride shining through the cracks of his cold armor, his want to be _apart_ of something. So much like his own Papyrus, yet so different.

Gaster looks to see Sans laughing brightly, something real and happy, and Red has sat up, eye lights nearly shining in pride, as if to say, _yeah, my fucking brother did it._ Even Wine, an older brother in his own twisted world, sat up with pride in his eye light that one of his did what battle mages couldn’t.

“The fuck are you all doing?” Rips spits at them as he hobbles into the room, leaning heavily onto his cane, head tilting in confusion. His sockets widen at the canopy of noise that suddenly bursts at him, each trying to talk over the other as loud as they could, as quickly as they could.

It makes Gaster smile, to be around this life, this home and these creatures. Monsters and mages, and he thinks about Sans’s words. Thinks that he’s suddenly become the adult here, and has accidentally adopted six mages, two otherworldly children, a guardian of negativity, eleven skeletons, and four hell hounds. 

Oh, and apparently was an auxiliary parent to a secondary Den of mages.

Gaster doesn’t hide his smile now, grins brightly at them as they try to recount Edge’s toss in all it’s glory to Ripper, whose doesn’t seem to understand, nor care, about the toss. Yet, they’ve got their hooks in him now, and he wont escape until they’ve gone through every detail of the throw.

Ripper is as patient as he can be, and when Gore and Crow come in behind him, they are a much better audience. Captivated by their plight to reunite the can with the cylinder.

Gaster watches them all, happy and safe, and wonders if maybe Sans was right. He did have a place here, with them. Not a fighter, no he wasn’t much good at that, not unless he was pressed and would never be to their talents. Yet, someone had to show them that it was okay to laugh and be silly. Someone to bandage them up and hug them when they were scared or hurt, and maybe that someone could be Gaster.

The thought certainly makes him feel better about everything, and Gaster relaxes, laughs with the Den and the Crew, and hopes for their future.

They’re going to be okay, Gaster thinks, promises to make it so no matter what. That the Den and the Crew deserved their happy ending, and he’d do what he could to secure that.

For now, he laughed with them at the impressiveness of Edge’s toss and the ridiculousness of it all.

For now, Gaster allowed himself to be happy.

-

It’s nine thirty on a Friday, and Gaster had forgotten the sheer excitement there was on a Friday night. Underground, days meant nothing, time was abstract, and the end of a work week wasn’t something to celebrate. Days blended into weeks, blended into months and years.

As least for Gaster they had, until Sans and Papyrus came along, and suddenly there was life in his home again. A reason to not work all the time, a reason to keep a schedule, and Fridays were something blessed. Something so pure and special, another thing Gaster had lost to the void when he fell.

Friday nights were _important_ to the mages. It was family night, usually reserved for marathoning movies, the selection of which was chosen by a different member of the Den each Friday night and a theme decided upon.

It’s Frisk’s turn to pick, and they’re all anxiously awaiting Sloan and Nightmare’s return from the hunt to start her selection. Amused, Gaster settles into his seat, bemused as he wonders what kind of kid’s movies they’ll be watching tonight.

Around him is gentle conversation and laughter as the Den and Crew curl in together and wait for their missing party members, pop corn gently thrown across the room at each other in childish squabbles and pop is sucked back at an alarming rate.

No one is sleeping tonight, Gaster thinks.

From his spot on the couch, a small bowl of his own pop corn and a glass of water, he looks around and smiles, softening into the couch. Lilith has made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of her brother and is often the one to discreetly throw pop corn over her shoulder at him when he’s not looking. So far, she’s hit his forehead twice, and each time it startles Felix enough for him to send a scowl around the room.

Lilith grins, chuckling into her own handful of popcorn, delighted that Felix hasn’t figured it out yet.

Next to her, Edge is a tight bundle of nerves and anticipation, and Gaster really can’t help but be amused. Each time he tries to relax, he looks like he’s ready to bolt and coils tighter. Lilith leaning into him surely isn’t helping, but she and Sans look delighted if nothing else.

Sans has camped out in front of her, settled happily between her legs with his back pressed into her chest. He has the bowl of popcorn they’re eating from, munching happily and looking just as thrilled to be leaning into Edge, just as amused to be the cause of his pending heart attack.

Red is slouching into Sans more then Lilith, messily eating from the bowel as well with his head nestled into Sans’s shoulder and seems unbothered by the popcorn that falls down Sans’s shirt. To be fair, Sans doesn’t seem to be bothered by it either, and Gaster really just isn’t sure how to feel about that. Grossed out, maybe?

Either way, Sans seems happy.

Behind Lilith, Felix has claimed the couch, and when Lilith isn’t flicking popcorn at him, he’s looking pleased and genuinely happy between Wine and Coffee. The brothers from the Fell world look equally delighted with Felix between them as Wine leans into Felix’s side, sharp claws tracing a scar on Felix’s hand gently.

Watching with growing amusement, knowing that Felix is no where near subtle but is trying his best not to hold Wine’s hand as he chatters happily with Coffee. He eventually loses the battle against his own will, catching Wine’s hand and sinking his fingers between his claws, giving his digits a squeeze.

Coffee sees it too, and his eyes flash brightly before a shy smile curls at his lips. If he sees anything else, he doesn’t make mention of it and continues to happily talk in hands.

Glass and Lola have claimed the other side of the couch’s floor space, sitting shoulder to shoulder, a bowl of mixed snacks between them, some unholy mixture of skittles, M&Ms and some kind of jellies. They’re arguing, playfully, over the ethics of such a concoction, with Glass firmly in the camp of, just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

Lola, as it would seem, was in camp, but it’s tasty, which only seemed to horrify Glass all the more. A candy purist, it would seem, and he tried diligently to separate out his candy handfuls very unsuccessfully. Yet, when Lola would laugh, it was never at him, always with him, and the curve of an almost smile over Glass’s mouth, is enough sweetness that Gaster needs.

The girls, Frisk, Hope and Mercy, have claimed the prime spot in the middle of the room, making their own nest of blankets, something that Lilith has clearly schooled her sister in to achieve maximum comfort. They’re clustered around their own bowl of morally questionable candy, giggling like only little girls can, waiting for the movie to start.

Ryder and Papyrus are curled in the lazy boy, sprawled out long, and some how, Papyrus’s tall frame has curled itself perfectly around Ryder. The big mage has his arms around Papyrus’s ribs and narrow waist, both looking so softly in love, ignoring their siblings in favor of cuddling with each other. Gaster knows he’s happy by all of this, but seeing his youngest son so at peace, warms his soul. It’s the kind of happiness that could have sustained Gaster in the void for years if he needed it too, and he can’t help but be selfishly grateful that he gets to be here and witness it firsthand.

He knows his life has been stolen back, taken from the creation magic that should have breathed life into a new world, but for once, Gaster has decided to be selfish. Just this once, and only for his sons. For this weird little family he’s found himself apart of.

Sugar, sweet, tolerant Sugar, has Ripper in his lap, cuddling one of the earliest members of Nightmare’s crew with relish, looking for all the world to see relaxed. His surgery had gone perfect, his jaw aligned more smoothly, and the bands of his new braces are bright pink in his mouth.

The color suits him, Gaster thinks.

He also pities any one foolish enough to say anything cruel to Sugar, and he isn’t certain if a member of the Crew or the Den would come down on the offender like the hammer of god faster. He has his thoughts and would put good money on it being Lilith to land the first blow.

Grinning, Gaster does admit he’s a little bias, she is his son’s mate, equal parts fierce and kind, and would surely be quickest.

Ripper, for his part, is accepting of his fate as Sugar’s cuddle buddy for the night and accidental shield to anything scary. Yet, Gaster doubts that they’ll see anything frightening if it’s Frisk’s turn to pick a movie.

Gore and Crow are next to them, cuddling unashamed, curled around each other in what almost might be indecent with wandering hands that almost touch inappropriately. Yet, they manage to behave and keep the canoodling to a barely PG-13 presentation.

It’s…only just good enough for Gaster.

Lastly, Sin is sitting next to him, curled in the middle of the extra long couch, waiting quietly for his favorites to come back from their hunting trip, looking almost a little put out that he’s been left behind. Gaster understands, he does, Sin wants to be with them but is no where near ready for that kind of excursion, leaving him alone until they come back.

He looks almost sad, his smile when addressed by the others never meets his sockets and it doesn’t take a genius to see he’s faking being okay. Or at least, until Sloan and Nightmare come back.

Sloan breezes into the room with a sigh, the warm summer air wafting from her in heavy waves as she steps up and over the back of the couch to gracefully fold next to Sin. He immediately brightens to see her, his posture straightening, and his smile bright, like it would have been before his trip into his own world.

“Oh, my favorite Sin.” Sloan laughs gently, her hands cupping his cheeks so softly as she brushes a kiss to his teeth. It makes him blush, and he acts like a giddy high schooler with his first crush, and ah, Gaster sighs at the sentiment of it all.

“Sorry we’re late,” Although Sloan doesn’t sound sorry at all as she brushes another kiss to Sin’s eager mouth, “but Nightmare needed a bite.”

Felix barks a dark laugh as Lilith smirks, his tone amused, “Heh, cannibal joke.”

Nightmare slides in on Sin’s other side, and Gaster is happy to see him looking healthier then he had all day. His body a little more whole, a little more solid, “Technically, it’s only cannibalism if I consume the flesh of my own species.”

“Heh, that’s a real _treat_ if I ever heard one.” Sans pipes up from the safety of Lilith’s lap, and it makes Papyrus and Edge groan.

“I dunno Sansy, I don’t think I’ve got a real _taste_ for that.” Red chimes in with a sardonic smirk, curling into Sans’s side.

“We are joking about eating people.” Lola tells them bluntly with a heavy sigh, and she shakes her head despite her amused grin.

It only makes Glass smirk more, “These jokes really are _tasteless,_ but you have to admit, they’ve got a _bit_ of _meat_ to _sink_ your teeth into.”

Glass wins the game, apparently, as the others burst into laughter even as Nightmare rolls his working eye light. He settles into Sin’s side, a cool balm that is the perfect match to Sloan’s delightful warmth and Sin looks like he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the multiverse.

Settling in, Sloan stifles a yawn, and accepts a can of coke from Felix, “Where’s Dyne and Al tonight?”

Felix hums, “Date night. Went to see a romantic movie.” And he sighs heavily, sounding as if he were disappointed, “Can’t believe they blew us off for some romantic BS.”

“We are the superior choice.” Lilith agreed with a smirk, glancing to her overzealous brother.

Felix puffs up, arms swinging wide that nearly jostle Wine, “Thank you! Someone’s talking sense.” The smirk on his face is wide and his words have no heat, and they make Lilith smirk up at him before she tosses popcorn into his face.

Something registers in Felix’s eyes and betrayal lights them from the inside as he suddenly understands who has been tossing popcorn at him all night. Already Gaster can see him planning his revenge, and again, he acknowledges that he has a bias, but still puts money on Lilith.

Sloan rolls her eyes, and is quick to stop any more battle mage shenanigans from stalling movie night, “Okay, what are we watching?” 

Still giving his sister a side eye’d glare, Felix huffs and Gaster is prepared for a princess movie, something cutesy when he says, “Jaws.” And he blinks at the title and has to remind himself that _Frisk_ chose this movie, “Frisk wanted to do underwater horror tonight. Since the Doom and Gloom Crew haven’t seen it yet, seems like the best place to start.”

Gaster can’t help himself, he blinks at them as they all accept this answer and settle in to watch a horror movie.

The lights go down, and everyone quiets as they snuggle into each other in the soft blue glow of the screen.

Settling himself, Gaster can’t help but think that these creatures were silly, and wild and crazy, and ultimately his. His little family of misfits, and Gaster _knew_ without a shadow of a doubt, this was where he was supposed to be.

This was his family, and he wouldn’t have them any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're all so happy right? Would be a shame. If. Anything. Happened. To. Them. :)


	29. A Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crow has a break in LV, and everyone but Nightmare handles it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope your all doing well and taking care of yourselves. I'm actually really happy with how this chapter turned out, Crow (Dust) is a hard character to write with, but it was nice to see the world from his perspective. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: thoughts of suicide and ones death, remembering genocidal time lines and Crow thinking of the times he's died, thoughts of murder and dismemberment.

It had started with an itch. That was the best way Crow could describe it, an itch that he just couldn’t scratch, just couldn’t get to. Always just out of reach, _always_ just beyond his fingers. It liked to creep up in behind is eye lights, at the back of his sockets and make his head throb.

More then once he’s tried reaching into his own socket, the tips of his fingers scratching fruitlessly, obsessively even, leaving score marks on the inside of his skull in his desperation.

It didn’t help, nothing ever relieved the itch, ever persistent, ever there. He scratched until he bled, blinding himself and blood pooled from his raw socket. Blood poured like a horrifying waterfall from his damaged skull, leaving a puddle to stain the floor in the room the mages gave him, scratching at his socket until Gore found him, and patched him up.

He then told the Boss, because of course he did, the little snitch.

Yet, worse was, it upset Gore. It made him cry, and Crow had promised not to do it again.

Crow hated making promises, and despite the numb heaviness of the LV in his soul, he was still _Sans_ enough to remember that promises meant something. Sometimes, if he thinks about it, he can remember sitting in the cold, by a purple door and trading bad jokes with the women on the other side. He can remember the promise he made to protect the child, and how he suffered time and time again for it. He swore he would never again make such a vow.

But…it had been for Gore. So, Crow had caved and promised something he shouldn’t have.

It’s what left him sitting alone in one of the living rooms, curled in a ball with his hood up as he tried to control his fluttering soul. Panic gripped him as his soul raced like he had run a marathon, leaving him breathless as his LV roiled and clawed at him, taring him apart from the inside. It left his heavy, scared soul, raw as all five hundred and thirty-six genocide runs with the kid came crushing down on him. It overwhelms him and he wishes for the numbness that just isn’t coming.

Out of all of them, he’s got the highest LV, sitting pretty at eighteen, and it _still hadn’t been enough_. Never enough to stop the child, never enough to bring back his broken world and eventually he shattered with it.

Oh, the child had broken Crow, did more then crack him open and pull him apart. They destroyed him, nuked anything good that was still inside him, leaving him fractured and angry. _Insane_ with his lust to survive, to hurt others as badly as he had been hurt, and that sweet, sweet numbness was a balm to his shattered soul.

How he craves that now.

Magic sparks at his socket, bright purple and red, and he no longer carried the Judge within him, it’s been silent and dead for hundreds of runs. No, its only him now here, left alone to carry the weight of his sins.

Well. Sometimes. Most times, if he’s lucky.

Curling into a tighter ball of misery, Crow grips at his skull from inside his hood, the tips of his pitted fingers score the back of his head, adding to the dozens of scars there and he can feel his control shatter. He can feel his hard-earned sanity slipping away, and he’s damned if he can’t figure out what caused this particular episode.

 _Maybe a higher LV will make it stop_ it whispers in the back of his skull sweet like honey and so very persistent. A beautiful promise that sells only lies; Crow never feels better.

Cringing into his ball a little tighter, Crow hates it. He knows that this is bull shit, he’s well passed feeling things and shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t be feeling his sins heavy against his back, he should be blissed out and numb, high on his LV.

He isn’t like the mages, he can’t figure out how they’ve all coped for years with the LV they have and managed to stay sane. Maybe it’s because at their core, humans are spite and iron. Their blood is made of left-over star dust, already created of dead things, and left to rot in their world. Maybe that’s why they handled their LV so well.

The others, they have hope that Crow had long since stamped out. Even Red and Sans, at LV twelve and ten respectively, could still function and control their emotions. They could still feel and have some kind of bull shit justification for their high Level of Violence. Even Sin, only slightly higher at thirteen, was okay.

Crow knew the truth of it, things start to go numb at LV fifteen. That’s when you stop caring, just stop feeling mercy and start to enjoy the kill. Fuck if Crow doesn’t relish the feeling of blood and dust on his hands as he slaughtered the citizens of Snowdin.

He loves the feeling of a knife just missing him, or better yet, when he finds his end and the cold steel rams into his rib cage.

Sometimes, if he _really_ thinks about it, Crow can remember what it feels like to dust. It’s nice. Quiet and peaceful, and sometimes Crow craves the silence of death. Only sometimes, times like these, when he starts to feel shit again, and his soul feels like its going to hammer out of his rib cage.

 _Wouldn’t the mage’s blood look so pretty on the walls?_ The voice is persistent today, annoying like a bug under his bones and Crow can’t help but answer _yes!_

But. No. No it wouldn’t. Crow liked the mages, liked this soft yet hard world full of kind, vicious people who picked them. No one ever picked them, they were never anyone’s favorites before now.

 _Would be spectacular_ the voice insists, and Crow squeezes his sockets shut, pulling his hood harder over his skull. It’s childish to think that will help blot out the voice from inside his own skull, and it laughs at his attempt, _and that sweet EXP. You’d feel better._

It’s not wrong, he would feel better.

But.

But Nightmare told him no, and Sloan bound him by magic. And. He just. Didn’t want to.

 _Coward_ the voice hisses, and Crow cringes when its angry at him, his magic flaring wildly in his socket as he struggles for control. He doesn’t like it when he gets yelled at like that.

He wants to tell it to fuck off, but he can’t. Just _can’t._ If he does, it might go away and then where would he be? _Alone again._ All alone with a cruel child, and with no one to save him.

 _Who would want to save someone as worthless as you?_ Crow cringes at that one and grits his teeth.

“Nightmare.” He rasps to the empty room, and he had been rescued. Him, someone as worthless and bloodthirsty had been saved.

The voice laughs, _He’s an idiot._

“Glass.” Crow insists, trying again, looking for a name to appease.

 _A bitch._ The voice laughs.

Crow is feeling desperate, feels the last of his sanity slipping through his fingers and the harder he holds onto the strings of his mind, the faster they fall away, and he fumbles for a name, “Lola.”

The voice scoffs. _She’d look so pretty with her intestines hanging from the ceiling._ Crow disagrees but knows fighting would only make it worse.

He grips at his skull tighter, trying to drown out the voice and he’s desperate to not feel anything. His LV claws at his soul, not unlike a hand squeezing his throat, gripping and twisting the bone until he’s sure something in him will pop. Something is going to give, if it was his mind or body, was anyone’s guess.

Crow hoped it was his body, least then the Crew and Den would be spared from having to kill him themselves. At least then he wouldn’t hurt anyone, even if the voice told him the sweet, terrible truth that he would enjoy it.

He craves the fight they’d give him, yearns for the horrible words they’d casually toss at him when he killed them one buy one, and he thirsts for the moment one of them would slice through his bones. When they would break him apart until he was nothing but dust. When the pain would hit that delicious boiling point and his magic would sing in agony before he went numb, and he would just sleep.

He should probably tell Nightmare he’s feeling like this again, before something happens, before someone who isn’t Crew trips over him.

“Heya Crow,” Felix singsongs as he swings in the room, all nonchalant and delighted, and Crow is convinced Fate hates him. Or maybe hates Felix, it was hard to be sure.

A crooked grin is stretched across Felix’s face, he was always one to show his delight so readily, his emotions so available, or at least the ones Felix wanted them to see. Crow freezes, his magic flaring violently in his socket as panic seizes his soul.

He _likes_ Felix, and so does the voice, _He would be awfully pretty scattered around the room._

Crow growls, and it makes Felix freeze, the grin falling from his mouth as Crow’s voice takes a gravelly, vicious tone, “Shut up!” he hissed to himself, angry and bitter, and a little more of his mind slipped away.

Felix paused, and Crow hopes he has the good god damned sense to fuck off. The neutral expression falls into a frown, and Felix tilts his head. All the warning signs that any of the others would have seen go right over his head, and Felix stupidly stays put.

Worse, he speaks to Crow.

“You good man?” he asks, leaning against the door frame, “You seem a bit tense.”

Crow jerks and the voice inside his head laughs as what little sense he had left, broke. He twists unnaturally towards Felix, jerky and uneven as his skull tilts strangely towards the mage. The smile that warped his mouth is wrong, too wide and too many teeth, and it makes Felix stiffen, _finally_ getting that he was in danger.

Pity, that it was too late. 

Gold magic fills Felix’s eyes, and they shine like stars back at Crow as volatile purple and red magic flares out from his skull like fire. Felix makes a throaty noise that could be confused as a laugh, not nervous, as Crow was expecting, but something else and Crow isn’t sure what it is.

“Crow.” Felix starts again, pushing himself off the door jam to slowly pad into the living room. His easy grin is back, hands open to show he doesn’t have a weapon, stupid on his part really, and he’s barefoot as he carefully steps inside the living room. It’s the same room that not that long ago, Felix had made Sin a blanket fort because he was sad.

He should stop this, send Felix to get Nightmare before this got bad, but instead he _grins_ , “Felix.”

He watches the mage swallow, sees his _~~easily cut~~_ throat tighten with the motions as he watches Felix grin and sink onto the table across from the couch. It’s low and puts Felix at _~~striking range~~_ , eye level with him. Something broken purrs inside of him, something shattered and cracked, something twisted, squirms with excitement.

“Crow,” he instantly hates how calm Felix is, how nonchalant he is in the face of his wrath, “I know what’s happening.” Felix tells him carefully as he leaned forward on the table, his hands dangling between his spread knees.

“Do you?” Crow hums, he sounds amused if a little off kilter.

His words make Felix nod in the same easy-going manner, “Yep.” Crow doubts it. He’s the fucked up one, the broken member of Nightmare’s Crew, how the hell could Felix possibly understand? “You’re having an LV break. That’s all, and it’s okay. We’ve all had them.”

Crow blinks at him, wasn’t much else he could do, and Felix continues unafraid. Stupid battle mage, “So. It’s all right. I’ve had them. Lilith too. Been a while, but I can see your hands shaking.” Crow hadn’t even realized they where, “And you’re breathing really fast.”

He hadn’t realized that either, and now that Felix mentioned it, his chest hurts and he’s panting hard. He feels like he’s been running when it was hot, and stress sweat drips down the back of his neck. Crow grins at him, his mouth twisting into something cruel and dark like he would just before Nightmare would unleash him onto an unsuspecting universe.

“And right now, I’m willing to bet that you’d like to rip my guts out.” Felix tells him mildly, as if they’re talking about the weather. He’s half right, Crow prefers to go for the throat, “But it’s okay. We can help, we’re in the best position to help. Dom has a thing, it’ll help settle it down until you can control it.” He holds out his hand, his grin disarming and kind, and Crow doesn’t trust it, “Now, Crow just give me your hand. And we’ll go get some help.”

Crow looks down, sees the calloused, scared hand that Felix offered, palm up and so trusting, “Help?” his voice sounds so distant, so far away that Crow almost doesn’t recognise his own.

“Yeah buddy help.” Felix doesn’t back off, and Crow doesn’t miss that he’s asking for his control hand, heh.

“There’s no helping me.” He tells Felix blankly, the numbness rolls through him and Crow doesn’t feel anything, “Hey Felix, you want to have a mad time?”

Around him, if he squints hard enough, and tilts his head, all he can see is a golden hallway with tall, untouchable arches and a cruel child who pushed him to the breaking point.

When he twists back, he can see Felix, see his grin falling with confusion when he doesn’t understand what Crow means, doesn’t see it for the warning it is.

“What?” his brow furrows, and somewhere deep inside Crow, the part that is still a little bit of Sans, can see the worry in his face, and screams at him too run.

It’s too late.

The Gaster Blaster that appears behind Crow takes up all the space in the living room behind him. It’s massive, with a snarling maw of burning magic and teeth. Spiralling horns scrape the ceiling, gouging the smooth plaster, and when it opens its mouth, there is a bitter whine of power that sends a chill down Felix’s spine. The fire of Crow’s magic is stark against the sudden white at his back, bright and maddening, like peering into the depths of hell.

It had been so long since Felix heard the sharp screech of magic from a blaster, so long underground that Felix forgot that primal fear. He had tried to forget how Sans had been manipulated into attacking Lilith with one, had _killed_ her with one. He’d never had the displeasure of seeing one up close until now, and all he can do is softly mutter _fuck_.

Somewhere in the house panicked voices are calling his name, demanding to know what the hell is going on, but those are drowned out by the scream of magic and light that fills the room. It’s blinding and hot, fast in its destruction as it goes off with a snarl. The magic tares through the wall and fireplace, bursting into the side yard where is tares apart most of the back porch that Sans likes to sit and watch the world go by. The single shot of the blaster burns the grass and scorches the trees and does not stop until it smashes brutally into the side of Mt. Ebott and the magic dissipates as if it never existed. It turns to dust to feed the flames of its destruction.

The shot is fast, not unlike a bullet being fired, only as fast as Crow can make it.

Felix, hardened by war and combat, fueled by a survival instinct that he can never truly turn off, is still faster.

He stumbles out of the trace behind Crow, fear sweat dripping down from his temple as he trips over his own feet and falls backwards. His body is tense from his brush with death and he’s half expecting another attack as his own LV and vice rattling in their cages in sheer glee, calling for the head of the monster who dare attack him.

Felix swallows and pushes it down. No, that’s not right, not fair. Crow was unwell. He didn’t do it on purpose and Felix isn’t going to kill him for it.

Scrambling to his feet, Felix shakes away any feelings or nerves, centering himself as Lilith skids into the living room in socked feet. Nearly slipping on the carpet, her dark eyes glance around, assessing the threat level, blade in hand and looking for any damage to Felix before she settles back in on Crow.

Squaring her shoulders, Lilith takes breath, “LV break?” she whispers to her brother just as Crow begins to laugh, it’s bitter and broken, and it hurts Felix’s heart to hear it bubbling from his mouth.

His soul warbles a small song of comfort to Crow, but nothing comes back. It’s like he’s been blocked off from them, like something is shielding his soul from theirs and Felix can’t reach Crow’s. Its as if Crow has been scooped out and anything that was left of him was burned away, torn out of his body and it makes Felix worry.

“Yeah.” He mutters slowly to her, widening his stance, and behind him he can hear the others grouping at the entrance, gasping and muttering, fear and anger a horrible mixture behind him. Felix squares up and wipes the sweat from his brow, “We need to get him outside before he hurts someone.”

“Mhmm.” Lilith muttered to her brother, her eyes flooded with crimson magic and she grits her teeth. They don’t want to hurt Crow, but they can’t let him hurt anyone.

Crow turns to them and the battle mage’s freeze as his socket flashes with purple and red magic viscously. The voice inside praises him, tells him sweet things he needs to hear, tells Crow _what a good brother he is_ until there is nothing else left to listen to.

Nothing else that Crow _will_ listen to, and nothing else matters. He listens to the voice in his head telling him everything he wants to hear until Crow is no more, and there is only the sweet, siren song telling him what a good boy he is. How wonderful it will feel to slaughter the mages and drench his hands in their blood.

He continues to laugh in the disturbing pitch in a fit of madness, making Lilith and Felix share a worried look, and they refuse to believe that this wasn’t salvageable. They _knew_ they could save Crow.

“How are we going to get him outside without killing him?” Felix asks between gritted teeth, eyes still pinned on Crow as the last of him broke apart.

Lilith shook her head slowly as Nightmare came behind her with a curse, “I don’t fucking know.” She muttered back lowly, and already Felix can see her working the problem, “I don’t know how the spell didn’t ignite his ass after that.”

“It wouldn’t.” neither mage jump at their sister’s voice, but Sloan’s soft tone sends a shiver down Nightmare’s spine, “Not if he isn’t in his right frame of mind. He’s not himself, and this isn’t the first time one of the Crew didn’t know what they were doing when they attacked.” She gives Lilith a pointed look, making the battle mage shrug.

“Right, okay.” Felix starts, glancing back in time to see Sans and Red muscle the girls back around the corner, no need to push their luck if Crow was breaking to shove Frisk in to his face, “So if ignition isn’t an issue, what do we fucking do?”

Sloan gives them a helpless look as Crow continues to laugh his maddening cackle, and she looks to Nightmare, “Nights? He’s one of yours, what do we do?” her voice is soft and nearly sings. Despite himself, Nightmare swallows down any raising feelings, shoves down anything soft that has developed since they’ve been here, and guilt is heavy at the back of his throat.

Heaving a sigh, he comes unstuck, and curses himself for his own stupidity. He knows he should have seen the sighs, knew Crow was struggling and this is what happened with his complacency. He was distracted, and his people got hurt.

Clearly, they couldn’t stay here, not Crow at least and how fair was that to keep him here. He was too unstable, posed too great a risk, and Nightmare is nearly crippled by the overwhelming shame he barely swallows back, “I’ll take him.”

His voice is rough, and he refuses to give into the battle mages crestfallen expressions, or Sloan’s hurt one, “Someplace safe. Back to the castle. It’ll be s-”

He never gets to finish his thought, not with a flash of bright green magic and Glass’s panicked shriek of dismay behind them as the small blur flew passed them.

Nightmare gives credit where credit is due, Crow didn’t see Lola coming either.

Her tiny body slammed into his full tilt, her arms going around his body to pin his arms by his sides, and she kept her momentum as the thew them into a trace. Her magic swallowed Crow’s cry of surprise as he tipped backward, becoming magic and smoke.

They landed roughly with Crow’s back flat on the ground, Lola wrapped like python, lean and powerful around him, outside on the burnt and smoldering yard as they skidded a little. Crow screamed a high-pitched screech as he struggled in Lola’s arms, and Nightmare blinked at the scene before him blankly. He couldn’t comprehend that it was Lola who tackled Crow, dragging him outside onto the burning, destroyed yard without breaking a sweat or the fact that the battle mages that didn’t make a move to assist.

They blinked at her, as still and shocked as Nightmare, before Lilith nodded. Nightmare knows he still has issues with picking out emotions, but he’s sure that’s pride on her face.

“That was a good tackle.” She mutters to her brother, making Felix nod, his hard expression softening to something like delight.

“I mean. He’s outside now.” Felix shrugs with a brief frown before he beams at his sister, “Problem solved! Good job team.” He dramatically dusts his hands and moves to turn away when Lilith grabbed his upper arm.

“Come on, don’t be a jerk.” She lightly scolded him, turning him back towards Crow and Lola.

Rolling his eyes, Felix huffs, “Fine.” He sounds sardonically board, but the grin is enough evidence to know he’s not serious about leaving Lola on her own. Still grinning, he tracks Glass as he storms passed them both, giving them each a dark look, his large hands curled into fists, “I mean, Glass has it handled.”

Another annoyed look from Lilith has Felix huffing before moving, stepping out through the hole created from Crow’s attack, doesn’t take offence that it had been aimed at _him_ , and follows his sister out.

“Well,” he tells Lilith brightly, his smirk wide and delighted, “We did want an extension on this level.”

Nightmare watches the whole exchange a little gob smacked, like he doesn’t know what to make of this whole exchange. He watches them walk towards Lola and Crow, not crowding in, but sitting close enough, there if they were needed.

He watches as Lola manages to get them sitting up with Glass’s help, despite how he’s annoyed and twitchy beside her, as she and the battle mages talk softly to Crow. He struggles hard, screaming and thrashing in her arms, sneering threats and obscenities that are artfully ignored. He writhes in Lola’s arms, kicks out at anyone who dare get close to his legs and bucks viciously, but Lola has a good grip on him. A maneuver that Nightmare is sure Lilith or Felix have taught her to hold onto wriggling combatants. 

With a great screech, Crow summons magic, his bone constructs only deflected by a shield wrapped around Lola’s body, drawing another agonized cry from him. Nightmare flinches even when the mages don’t, feels his cursed soul constrict when he hears that horrible noise torn from one of his, remembers how when he first found Crow, that he was near feral and it has been a long time since he’s been this bad. 

He watches how Lola talks to him softly, normally, like he hadn’t blown a hole though their wall. Like he hadn’t tried to kill Felix, like they could actually handle him.

Something shifts, sharp and raw inside of Nightmare’s soul when he comes to the conclusion that they were handling this better then he would have. They did it without laying a hand on Crow, did it without drawing out his hopelessness to cripple him, and suddenly Nightmare feels…less then.

He swallows hard, watches as Lola softly tells Felix and Lilith something, watches almost numb as they both nod and slowly stand with the promise to come back. Promising _Crow_ they’d be right back despite how he screeched and struggled and sobbed so brokenly.

They both hesitate to leave, torn between doing their assigned tasks from Lola and staying to comfort Crow. The hesitation is there and gone in a blink of an eye before they’re both moving, leaving Lola and Glass to talk Crow down from his elevated state.

His ribs are heaving hard, like he can’t breathe, and Nightmare thanks whoever watches over assholes like them, that Gore wasn’t here to see it.

Lilith and Felix make for the house, Lilith heading back to the hole and Felix the remainder of the porch. It makes Lilith pause, and her head tilt, “What are you doing?”

Felix pauses, gives her a confused look and Lilith rolls her eyes, “Why are you using the door when there’s a hole here?”

Felix blinks at her sarcastic words and twisted expression, and Nightmare can see the lightbulb moment when it clicks in his head, “Right. I forgot.”

Lilith rolls her eyes hard enough that Nightmare can see the whites of her eyes, and her exasperated sigh is a mood he can relate too. Then, as if nothing was amiss, they disappear back into the compound. Past he and Sloan, through the hole in the wall and into the depths of their home.

Leaving Nightmare to remain frozen in time, unable to move as he watched Crow being soothed by Not Crew members. Watches him being handled better then any of them have done before, and the shame that wells at his throat tastes like bitter bile, and sickness.

“Nightmare, are you alright?” Sloan’s soft voice startles him out of his reprieve, and his jerking movement only making her frown deepen, “You’re shaking.” 

He is, hadn’t noticed he was and hadn’t realized that the clog in this throat was making it so hard to breath. He swallows it back as he curls his hands into fists, and his tentacles coil tightly at his back as tension twists through him, “I’m fine.”

Sloan frowns at him, her expression twisting with worry and her mouth opens to ask if he’s sure, but Crow’s shriek distracts her. He isn’t exactly grateful when her teeth click shut, hated that he was seeking the comfort she was willing to provide and he knows he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve nice things or to be cared for, not monsters like him and he needs to remember that.

Crow’s break was a wake-up call that they don’t belong here. That one of them will hurt the Den, could hurt Sloan, and panic he doesn’t remember how to manage swells from his soul. It hurts, all of it and he can’t imagine feeling _all the fucking time._ It was exhausting, and he craves the muted numbness he had before.

An angry, bitter part of his soul screams that its unfair, that none of this was okay, that he did his suffering, he lost already, and it was his turn to be on top. He lost everything, he wasn’t welcome in his world, he lost the tree, his stupid brother, it wasn’t _fair_ to give him a taste of something good only for it to blow up in his face.

It wasn’t fair that Crow suffered like this, that any of them had suffered in their worlds, and it wasn’t fair that the mages had to clean up his mess.

Bile rose at the back of his throat, and he clung to his anger. It was an easier emotion to latch onto, and an easy one to understand in the messy tangle that his soul had become. He didn’t need to think about anger, he didn’t need to feel hurt and sad by all this, confused even, not if he has anger.

His expression crumples into something like fury as Felix goes sprinting passed him, followed by Lilith and Sans on her heels. They pay him no mind, don’t ask any questions or for his help, and that makes his anger boil, though he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so angry, or why his soul feels like someone has reached into his chest and squeezed. Frankly, he doesn’t like the feeling, it reminds him too much of his time before, when he was weak and helpless, allowing the villagers of his world to harass and hurt him.

Nightmare hates it, hates that he was reminded of his own foolish weakness and how it hurt him in the end.

With a snarl that startles Sloan, _~~he doesn’t deserve to be in her light, he doesn’t deserve to be near her~~_ ~~,~~ he matches for them, fists squeezed into tight balls as he approaches the group that’s knotted around Crow. _~~Is it jealousy, he wonders? Is it resentment that Crow had all these people here for him when he needed them, but when Nightmare was all alone and he called for help, no body came? He doesn’t fucking know, but he’s confused and raw, and his soul aches with emotions he doesn’t understand.~~_

He ignores everything besides his anger as he approaches the others, and their voices are soft and kind, soothing Crow in inches.

“Hey buddy,” Nightmare hears Felix tell him gently from behind, carefully easing a baseball cap onto his skull as Crow struggles, casting a shadow over his sockets. He moved carefully, with soft hands and pulled Crow’s hood up, “I know its scary Crow, but your okay. The sun’s bright, this’ll make it easier to relax. You’re safe buddy, we got you.”

Crow makes a raw, wounded noise that hurts Nightmare to hear and fear rises from his belly at the thought that they may lose him to his break. Yet, even his fear is quickly swallowed by his growing anger and buried in the graveyard of his feelings.

“Dom can see him today.” Lilith tells them in a hushed voice on Lola’s other side. She’s crouched next to Glass, looking calm and confident, and its enough to sooth him, “He literally just had a cancellation, and he’s in his Ebott location today.”

Lola sighs softly with pure relief, curling tighter around Crow to keep him held close, “Oh thanks the Fates, they were watching out for us.”

Nightmare can see Lilith roll her eyes before she can catch herself but says nothing to her sister’s strongly held belief in Fate, “But we need to go now.”

“I can short cut us all there.” Sans is quick to interject, “I’ll get us all there real quick.” It’s said like a promise, a vow that he intends on keeping, and Nightmare can’t explain why he’s so bothered by that.

Lola nods, and they help her to her feet when Nightmare snarls, “What the hell are you all doing?” he’s angry, and he can’t tell them, or even himself, why.

The group pauses and turns to him with varying degrees confusion and concern. It’s Sloan that answers him from behind, and he startles when she does, not realizing how close she was behind him, “They’re going to help him.”

He snarls at her gentle voice, making her expression tighten as mental walls are quick to snap up, “Dom has a breathing apparatus that is tried and true in the use of managing LV. It has a mixture of magical positive and negative emotion that can be given to the user in an aerosolized form. It’s like a love potion, only much weaker, and it helps stabilize moods brought on by LV.”

“This is ridiculous, we have no idea if it would work on monsters.” He spits at her, and he hates now her expression further darkens at his stupid words and even stupider emotions that he can’t manage. He doesn’t have the language to tell her that he’s _upset_ never mind why, “Give him to me, I’ll take him home.”

The mage’s expressions all mirror one another, and Nightmare isn’t sure who started it and who’s a reflection, but their dark expressions twist into one of shock, then hurt before they close off completely. _~~And Nightmare hates himself for that. Why,~~_ ~~WHY, _couldn’t he just ask for their help?_~~

Lola takes a step back to be further behind Glass and Sans as Lilith and Felix each sidestep inwards, building a wall between he and Crow. If it was intentional, Nightmare isn’t sure, can’t be sure if that was an instinctual move to protect a vulnerable Den member from a threat.

It hurts more then it should that they see him like that, it hurts that Glass is tugging Lola back further, and Nightmare knows where his loyalty in this fight would lay.

“Nightmare,” his soul pulses with something, aches, at Sloan’s careful tone and gentle voice, “Let us help. We have experience with LV breaks, we’re in the best position to help.”

He wants to stop talking, he does, and he just can’t understand why be blurts out, “This wasn’t part of the deal!” as if that has _anything_ to do with it.

Sloan’s brow furrows with confusion, “We promised to care for you. This is part of that.” Dark brown eyes glance to Crow, who’s still writing and whimpering, burying his face into Lola’s shoulder, “This is absolutely part of that.”

“No, you promised to patch us up after we were attacked.” He snarled, and fuck, he just wishes that he could shut up, “An attack that happened because _you_ failed to kill Chara the first time.”

There’s a little gasp from behind him, and guilt tries to swallow his anger and it almost does. Yet the heat of it shoves it down for later as a little of Sloan’s barrier cracked and her eyes widen a fraction at his cruel words. Words that he knew were aimed to hurt, and he doesn’t understand why he’s so worked up.

“We are going to help Crow.” Sloan tells him firmly, voice ice cold and a tone that spoke of no arguments.

Nightmare cringes inwardly, hates that he’s brought that out in her, and knows that this is his fault. He’s the Guardian of Negativity, and he knows this is what he deserves. He earned their anger, and Nightmare knows Sloan is justified in anything she says to him.

He, however, has no grounds to be anger with her. “When he rips out the throat of one of your siblings, you’d better hope its one that can heal.” The regret is near instant as her face crumbles a little with hurt that is a little harder to hide then the last time, “If anything happens to them,” He sneers, “this is on you Sloan.” 

The hurt quickly changes to anger and Sloan looks as if she’s bit into a lemon as her expression twists. A pulse of relief washes through him, and he knows it’s what he wants, deserves even. He wants her to tell him off, punish him for his stupidity, for yelling at her, for letting Crow go unnoticed until he broke, but even her anger was gone too quickly.

“Nightmare,” her voice is painfully patient, despite the underlining tone that tells him she’s not putting up with his bull shit, and he _knows_ she isn’t going to be cruel to him.

He can’t, he just can’t manage this, not with his feelings a distracted mess and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it. He can’t cope with it now, can’t deal with Sloan being soft with him when all he wants is for her to tell him how shitty he is and confirm that what he’s feeling on the inside is accurate.

He can’t do it, and he’s gone before she can continue. He drops into a thin shadow cast by compound, and Nightmare _runs_.

Sloan is helpless to watch him go, sees his face crumple into confusion and raw pain that she’s certain he doesn’t know he’s expressing before he’s gone. His body going to liquid and dropping into a shadow under his feet, and he’s just _gone._

“Okay, what the fuck was that about?” Felix asks from behind her, still clustered in close to the others, all of their expressions a little stunned by Nightmare lashing out.

They each share a confused look, and even Glass gives a confused little shrug from beside Lola, “I dunno. We’ve all had LV breaks, but ‘v never seen Boss this angry ‘bout it before.”

Hurt and worry compress Sloan’s soul, her concern for Nightmare growing, but right now, they can only manage one crisis at a time, and Crow is the priority. He makes another little whimper from Lola’s arms, a half sob that makes Sloan’s heart pang with worry over him.

“I’ll deal with Nightmare.” She tells them, “And the contactors.” And the girls, and the others who must be terrified right now, and sooth anyone who will be looking for reassurance. In retrospect, she really does have the easy job in comparison to managing someone who was having an LV break, “Just get Crow to Dom.”

Lilith and Felix share a look, and the latter clears his throat, “Maybe I should stay with?” the offer is sweet, but if Crow loses it, they’ll need him more.

“I’ll be fine Felix. You all need to get going.” She told them softly, and they know the truth, know that they need to get Crow to Dom if they have any hope of saving what’s left of him.

The hesitation only lasts a few seconds before they all fold and nod. Grouping up, Sans is easily able to take them through the void, carrying them through time and space. He’ll be tired when they land after pulling so many people through the void, but Sloan guesses they’ll be a while.

Dom is good, Sloan doesn’t doubt that, but a break that bad can take time to pull someone out of. If they can at all, but they caught it early, and Sloan has hope.

Crow is in good hands, the best as far as Sloan was concerned, and she had a job to do. Contractors to call, Ryder needs to fix the yard again, the girls need soothing, lots to do. Looking around the destroyed yard and the hole in the wall, Sloan heaves a tired sigh and tries not to dwell on the fact that Felix could have been killed.

Tries not to think that it would have broken Crow completely if that had happened, and he would have remembered that he did even if Frisk rewound time.

Taking a breath, Sloan knows there are things to do, people who need her and she needs to prioritize what needs to happen first. Then, she needs to find Nightmare and find out what his deal is.

She doesn’t pause as she steps towards the broken hole in their wall, but frowns when she remembers his crumbed, painful expression and the confusion that ate at her. She knows that Nightmare needs her, and she doesn’t understand where all that anger came from.

She can guess, had seen it in a lot of battle mages after the war as they tried to assimilate back into society, the guilt and confusion at peace, and anger was easy to cling to. She knows Nightmare needs her, but she knows he needs to calm down.

There is also a hole in their wall, children to be comforted, the rest of the Den who are likely confused and frightened, and it was only her and Ryder.

Nightmare would have to wait.

Guilt sparks in Sloan’s soul, and she swallows it down as she steps back through the living room, bracing for the questions.

-

Curled on the roof of the compound, with his knees pulled up tight to his chest, Nightmare presses in against the lip of the ledge with his spine and tries _hard_ to rein in his anger. He tries to get his stupid soul to stop hurting so much, so unexpectedly, and he _hates_ himself for lashing out at Sloan.

Hates that he fucking fled, leaving everyone else to clean up his mistakes and care for his people. He should just fucking leave, he was worthless, useless, and pathetic. He couldn’t take care of his own people, couldn’t help Crow calm down, and couldn’t even keep his shit togeather to be of any use to Sloan.

Honestly, he was ready to fucking hurl his soul as far as he could off the side of the compound and be done with it.

With a heavy groan, he lifts his head from his knees to scrub at his face with both hands, muttering obscenities into the dark bones. Stupid, he’s so fucking stupid, and he needs to calm the fuck down.

The door that leads up to the roof clicks open, and Nightmare lifts his head to glare at who ever would be stupid enough to come bother him when he was trying to get his soul to stop aching. Dread fills him when it’s Sin who slips up onto the roof with him, closing the door behind him and Nightmare knows he needs to send Sin away before he says something stupid. He knows Sin is still fragile and raw, and he doesn’t need to deal with his shit on top of his own.

The roof top is hot under the blistering summer sun, and Sin’s wearing his shoes and shorts because of it. The black t-shirt looks good on him, fits him nicely, and Nightmare knows he’s only wearing that because he feels _safe_ with him.

That makes Nightmare’s soul do things he _doesn’t understand_ , and he struggles to compress his emotions.

Despite all that, all he can snarl out is, “What?” as Sin nears, folding gracefully down next to him and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

His offer of one is met with a sneer and a growl, his tentacles twitching like an angry cat’s tail, he’s still feeling raw and angry, and he _knows_ he doesn’t deserve Sin.

Sin shrugs, not offended by Nightmare’s refusal to smoke or his temper and lights one, “You okay?”

The question is lightly asked, the hesitation clear and it irritates Nightmare all the more, “I’m fucking fine.” He spits back with venom that Sin seems ready to brush away.

“Really?” he asks as he takes a drag, breathing out grey smoke to waft around his skull, “’Cuz you got Sloan all upset.” His soul constricts at that, panging with something he doesn’t know what, “And you’re all upset.”

Nightmare feels something snap like the last barrier in a dam, and all his anger comes rushing forward. It’s heavy and thick and Nightmare can’t control it, no different then water from the dam rushing forward to crush everything in its path, “How fucking observant of you Sin.” He snaps, the words tumbling before he can catch them all, “A fucking shame you couldn’t have used those fucking observation skills to see an obvious trap.”

Sin freezes, his hand stilling part way to his mouth to take another drag of his smoke, “What?” he sounds a little dumb founded, caught off guard by Nightmare’s anger.

“We were only supposed to be here a few days,” he sneers, and something small inside of him is screaming at him to shut up before he says something he will regret, “A few days, not weeks and become fucking pets to the mages. But no.” his tone goes mocking and cruel, “You had to walk into an obvious trap like a foolish puppy like that bitch had you on a leash, and you were too blind to see the obvious. Your _stupidly_ loyal Sin, and your ill placed trust in Frisk cost us time. Tell me Sin, was her kiss worth all of this?”

Nightmare had never _truly_ appreciated the sentiment of instant regret until that very moment. The second the words where out of his mouth, he wished he could have yanked them back to swallow them down at the twisted look of pure _pain_ that painted Sin’s pretty face.

“I. what?” he asks numbly, blinking a little too fast, and its as if Nightmare as if he had struck him with a fist rather then words.

A fist, perhaps, would have hurt less, and Sin looks like he’s bleeding somewhere, “Cost you time?” he asks softly, almost disbelieving, and Nightmare _knows_ he didn’t mean a fucking word of it. He knows it wasn’t Sin’s fault, he knows that the Gaster of his world use the best bait he had, and that was Frisk. 

He knows that asking about the kiss was an unnecessary low blow, and after all that had happened, Nightmare shouldn’t have thrown _that_ back in his face.

But he had, and now it was going to cost him.

He can see Sin’s eye lights go shaky, warbling in his sockets and for a moment he thinks tears will spill down Sin’s cheeks. Its almost worse when they don’t somehow, and Sin’s expression closes off, becomes guarded and cold.

He looks away from Nightmare, reeling at the cruel words that had been thrown at him so carelessly, and Nightmare is scrambling for something to say. Something to soften the blow, to make it a little better and mend what he had just broken.

The words clog up in Nightmare’s throat, and nothing comes out. His soul aches with the consequences of his actions, for the horrible words and how Sin must be feeling right now. He knows he caused damaged to Sin’s still recovering soul and psyche, and it was because of _him_ , someone who was supposed to care about Sin, maybe even love him, _protect him,_ that hurt him.

It was cruel beyond anything he ever should have done, a travesty of his own making.

Sin nods, expression distant, “Right. Good talk Nightmare.” Nightmare. Not Boss, not Nights, Nightmare. Back to his full name, and he feels his soul shutter at the loss of _something,_ but Nightmare doesn’t know what yet.

When Sin stands, Nightmare tries to call him back, but he can’t get the words passed the wedge in his throat, can’t do anything except watch Sin leave, lope away as quick as he could back the way he came, leaving Nightmare alone on the roof.

Watching him go, Nightmare curses himself, hates himself as he’s left alone with only his guilt at hurting the people closest to him.

It was his own stupid fault, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t know how to make any of this better or to take back those words, and he’s left floundering and helpless in a sea of emotion he has no idea how to navigate.

Dropping his skull back down, he squeezes it between his knees and wishes he would just dust already. With a heavy sigh, Nightmare mutters, _fuck_ , and desperately wishes he knew what to do to make all this better.

As always, there are no answers and he pushed away the people who tried to help him.

-

It late by the time Sans short cuts them all home, late enough that the sun had gone down and the moon was high in the sky. Late enough that even the battle mages were tired, yawning and stretching, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and Crow is limp in Lola’s arms.

He’s out like a light, sockets closed and his arms loose at his side as he breaths slow and peaceful at last. His shiny new breathing apparatus looks like a painter’s cartridge mask, the smoke he’s breathing out is a deep pink with the positive magic they are pumping into him, knocking him out flat.

He’d had a hard afternoon, long and emotionally tolling on his body and emotional state, and Lola had no problem letting him sleep. They’d hit him hard with enough negative magic to drop a dragon, practically sucking up all his fight and will right out of him before they started to pump him full of positivity and love.

It would take time to find the right combination that would keep him level and stable, but for now he was worn out.

Quietly, they trudge into the compound, the hole tarped up and Lola had no doubt that Sloan had already called contractors out to come see to the hole and start repairs.

Lola shifts Crow in her arms, and he makes a small sleepy noise and buries his face into her shoulder, “Alright, I need sleep.” She said quietly, looking just as tired and out of it as the others, “I’ll take him to bed with me, keep watch.”

Glass stiffens, looking worried, “That safe?” there’s tension in his voice and shoulders that Lola finds endearing.

“We dropped enough depressive magic into him take down a dragon, he’s not waking up till noon tomorrow.” Felix yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes, “And he’s going to feel like shit when he wakes up. Experience says he’s going to be hung over.”

It seems to calm Glass a little, enough that when Felix sighs and quietly says, “I’m going to bed.” He doesn’t protest or ask Felix to take Crow for the night.

Lilith nods, looking just as tired and Sans looks like death on his feet, “Yeah, we’re going to sleep too.” She follows her brother up the stairs, her hand instantly reaches for Sans’s, and he takes hers right away, linking their fingers and it warms Lola’s soul.

They’re so in love, it’s so sweet and it calms something in Lola’s soul. “Good night!” she sounds sleepy, but her peppy cheer still brings a smile to Glass’s face, even when her brother and sister call by garbled words to bid them good night as well.

Turning to Glass, Lola gives him a tired smile, all soft and kind in a way no one ever smiles at him, “Glass, you seem worried about Crow.” She’s only half right, he is worried about Crow but he’s also worried if he wakes up panicked and lost and swinging for the fences.

“Yeah, ‘m worried about the kid.” He tells her gruffly, deflecting from his worry over her.

Lola smiles at him as they start to climb the stairs, and Glass immediately melts, “Do you want to have a sleep over with me then?”

It’s softly asked, and it immediately makes Glass burn orange, mostly at her innocent question. Glass doesn’t doubt for one second that Lola means an actual sleep over, with jammi-jams and actual sleeping in a soft bed.

Not like the sleep over that Empress Toriel would have dragged him too, or the nights she handed him over to Muffet. No, Lola actually meant something peaceful, nothing nefarious and an actual _sleep over_.

No one’s ever asked him to have a sleep over with them before, and he gives Lola a slick, calm grin, “Sure.” He gives her a silly wink, “We can paint each other’s nails and tell each other what boys we think are cute.”

Her small giggle is his reward, and it makes Glass grin at her as they come to the top of the stairs, “Sure, maybe a nice green to go with your magic, I think black will be too Halloween.”

A lopsided grin spreads across Glass’s face, and he looks younger then he had before, and Lola can almost see the Papyrus in him, “What if I like Halloween?”

Lola laughs, grinning brightly at him, “We can manage that.” They come to the top of the stairs and the smile slips from her face, and Glass misses it terribly, “What are you two doing up?”

Gore and Sugar look up at her the moment her soft voice asks the question, their faces twisted into hurt and dismay, and Sugar looks near tears. They’re both dressed in their pyjamas, Sugar in a matching long sleeved and pant stripped set, while Gore was in a white tank top and black shorts.

“We were worried.” Sugar whispers softly, his massive body curled into a ball next to his brother, looking near tears, “We though Crow was dead.”

Terrified eye lights glance to him, sound asleep and so very safe in Lola’s arms, and his massive shoulders fall, “It’s a relief he’s alive.”

Lola nods, glancing to Gore, who looks about ready to cry, his left eye looking like a massive blood stain in the water, and his fingers are knotted in a messy pile.

“You good Gore?” Glass asks easily, rocking back a little on his heels.

Gore’s head snaps towards him in that eery, jerky way, his eye light growing larger, “Is he going to fall down?” his voice doesn’t sound right, like its wire tight and hurt.

Glass goes tense, knows that tone never means anything good, but Lola is calm and offers him a gentle smile, “No hun, he’s not falling down. He’s just had a long day.”

His head snaps towards her, but her words seem to calm him down and his eye light starts to smooth out, shrinking back down, “He’s going to be okay?”

“Eventually.” Lola told him, readjusting Crow in her arms, and she offers him a smile, “Why don’t you and Sug come have a sleep over with Glass and I. I bet Crow will be awfully happy to have you here in the morning.”

Her kindness, even in this world, still astounds Glass that such compassion survived, that she survived the war.

“Could you read us a bedtime story?” Sugar asks softly, if a little hesitant and it makes Lola smile.

“Sure, anything you would prefer?”

Glass knows Sugar will say _Fluffy Bunny_ before he even asks, and Lola smiles and tells him that Papyrus has a copy, and she’d be happy to.

-

By the time Lola has Sugar and Gore tucked into her bed, Crow snuggling between them, Glass had changed into his own sleep wear, and the t-shirt and shorts are soft on his bones, softer then he’s ever had before. Nicer then he’s ever deserved.

Lola settles at the edge of her bed, still looking tired and worn out when she opens the cover of Fluffy Bunny and starts to read. Glass can’t remember a time he had been given such a comfort, to have someone so kind to him for the sake of his reassurance.

By the time she’s finished he book, the other three are asleep, and Glass is exhausted. He’s tucked himself small against Sugar’s back, leaving as much room for Lola at the edge of the bed as he could, but her bed simply wasn’t built for four skeletons and a human.

She’s nearly falling off the edge but doesn’t complain as she snuggles in. Doesn’t complain when Glass hesitantly drapes an arm around her, and she burrows in with a content, sleepy sigh. She presses into Glass’s body, making him still and is soul cramp in near panic as she presses into him and falls asleep.

She’s so soft, so trusting.

It’s a nice feeling, to be held in his sleep, nicer then he deserves, and Glass clings to it while he can


	30. Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith and Nightmare are having a bad day. It gets better for one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> New Friday, new chapter. Please take a moment to read the warnings as there is fighting in this chapter. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this one, I struggled with the fight scene ('cus it's hard friends, so hard.) but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> A few people have asked if I have a discord channel, so I've made one. Drop me a line if you interested in joining. I'm not sure if I'm going to open it to the public just yet, and keeping it small. 
> 
> Cheers, 
> 
> WARNING: Cannon typical fighting and violence, impaling, blood and mild gore. Talk of death, depression. I think that's it, but let me know if I've missed something.

Stepping out into the damp morning, Lilith takes a deep breath of cool air, and huffs it out in a deep, put upon sigh. It’s been a weird few days, where even the weather seems to have turned grey and sad, a strange mix of raining so hard that one could barely see more then a foot before them, and annoyingly misty. The kind of weather that just made everything wet and slippery, and Lola had been called for an emergency SOS healing for more then one car accident.

It was those times when the Coven healers were so far and she was their best chance of survival, leaving her tired and passing out on the way home from the hospital. Glass cringed each time she was called, grumbling as he followed her out, rushing only to keep pace, and had carried her home more then once.

Everyone was worried that she was running herself too thin, Glass especially, but so were Gore and Sugar, each staying near and bringing her food. Crow too, still off kilter as they struggled to find the right level of magic to keep him stable, too little of either would send him spiraling into depression or energize him to keep him spinning for hours. It was a delicate dance, one that Lilith never had to participate in, but Felix had during the war, when he had first been rescued by them and he was struggling with his LV at such a young age.

Yet, even Crow, perhaps softened by their willingness to help him and his own, seemed content to cluster around Lola and keep her safe while she couldn’t do it herself. Yesterday Lilith had stumbled in on Gore reading Fluffy Bunny to her, his words shaky and he stumbled. He had a hard time reading the words on the page, but damned if he didn’t try to his best.

It had made something soft and happy pang in Lilith soul as she watched her sister content in Glass’s lab, near asleep herself, as Gore stumbled his way through Fluffy Bunny, but his words getting stronger. Sugar had looked _delighted_ by his brother’s voice and the story he read, likely a story he hadn’t heard since before their Frisk abandoned them to the Underground.

Even Crow lay with his head in Gore’s lap, his respirator puffing dark pink smoke as he listened to Gore’s soft voice, his eye lights fuzzy and sockets half lidded. Relaxed and happy, and it warmed Lilith, gave her hope for a better future. That maybe, they could be happy.

That maybe, they’d get to keep the Crew, if the bonds kept strengthening like this. They all knew it was happening, the mage’s at least, could see the attachments shoring up, solidifying into real bonds. Lilith didn’t doubt they’d be a force to be reckoned with once those bonds became steel.

She gives the broken wall and still destroyed porch a side eye’d look, barely suppressing a shiver; a force to reckoned with indeed. She does wonder, what sort of conflict this power would attract, to have so many of them close together, what kind of attention would they draw? Will someone come for them or the Crew?

Would Nightmare’s brother find them?

It’s an easier thought to ponder over rather then think about how close they came to losing Felix and Crow to a single bout of LV induced madness. Better to prepare for the inevitable fight to keep the Crew safe then the coming reality that they would probably just _leave._

It hurts her soul, almost like a sting of betrayal that the Crew would never understand and Lilith doesn’t want to think about inevitability of them leaving or someone finding them. One was going to happen eventually, and it was foolish to consider it wouldn’t. War had been a brutal teacher and Lilith was prepared for either eventuality, she just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly or for their little ball of happiness to end so soon.

Leaning against the remaining wooden rail, its shaky and unstable, but Lilith ignores the danger of falling to look out onto the misty grounds. She pretends the light rain wasn’t falling, lessening the heat and flattening the humidity to temporarily make the world soggy, and she lets her mind wander further.

She thinks about the weird last few days, and how Sin had been avoiding Nightmare like the plague, staying as far away as he could. How he looked sad and hurt, but hadn’t come to talk to Sloan about it either.

Frowning, Lilith isn’t foolish enough to think something _didn’t_ happen, not when only a few days ago they were joined at the hip, and the sudden pulling away was hurting Sloan. Nightmare was just as unhelpful, he wasn’t talking either, and had been moody since the whole thing with Crow, snapping at everyone near him.

He’d tried snapping at Sloan only once, and after the hurt faded, she looked angry enough to spit before she snapped at him, giving back his shit ten-fold. Her come back when she told Nightmare to buy a new camera and fix his fucking perspective had shut him up pretty quick, earning gleeful cackles from the others and his sulk to continue.

Taking a mouthful of coffee, Lilith had half a mind to go slap the shit out of Nightmare herself for hurting her sister, and the years of peace have made her soft enough that she _hadn’t_ yet. Especially when Sloan had come to her room, sad and hurt afterwards, confessing that neither had come to sleep in her bed since the whole thing with Crow. She was nearly in tears that she didn’t know why they both suddenly pulled away and wondered if there was something wrong with _her_.

Lilith had been quick to reassure that it wasn’t her, couldn’t be, and it had to be something to do with them, some kind of Crew bull shit that just hadn’t come up yet. Her brave, _confident_ sister hadn’t been sure until that morning when Sin hadn’t come down for breakfast, and frankly that was blasphemy in their family.

For them, breakfast was the one meal they were all together for, come hell or high water. It was their one of their few constants; you oil your leathers, you sharpen your blades, you fucking come down for breakfast.

Rubbing her eyes, Lilith sighs again. Sloan had gone looking for Sin and hadn’t been gone long before she came back down to get him something to eat, telling the others he wasn’t feeling well. She informed them in a cold, clipped tone that they would be having breakfast up in his room, careful to avoid Nightmare’s sullen gaze, before she disappeared as well.

It left he rest of them gob smacked and stunned, but Lilith wasn’t stupid, she’d dealt with enough of Sans’s dark days to know sometimes, he just couldn’t. Frankly, Sin was where Sans was a year ago, and maybe that was part of it. Maybe he was having a few hard days, Sans still had them too, and was still leaning to cope.

Lilith hoped that was what it was, and not something to do with Nightmare’s sour mood and sullen look when he was left behind.

Heaving another sigh, she thumbed the rim of her mug and watched the fog roll by, and suddenly notices that the birds have all gone silent. So have the bugs, and it’s quite, too quite, when the hair on the back of her neck stands on end, and the feeling of _wrongness_ fill her. It’s like something not of this world has stepped foot onto their property, but uninvited.

Her body goes tight, tensing like someone is coiling a wire from her core and her eyes flood with crimson magic in an automatic response to something so very wrong. Goose flesh lifts along her arms, and Lilith barely suppresses a shiver as her instinct scream _danger, danger, danger!_

Still holding onto her black mug that boldly states _meh!_ in bold white letters, Lilith stand up straight, and scans the yard. Something’s there, something not right, and she’d be damned if she’s going to let anything near the compound.

Her eyes catch him in the fog, and it takes her a moment to understand what she’s seeing, and he reminds her of Gore a little, with the _wrongness_ of him. His jerky movements, twitchy and choppy, like he’s having trouble moving. His features are a little obscured by the fog, but even Lilith can see he’s glitchy, fidgety, like being in her world is making him itch and he doesn’t know where to scratch first.

His long, black coat looks like it’s been patched together by someone with the skill to do it well, and his bones are solid black with the odd splash of red and yellow at his fingers. Lilith feels a chill down her spine, a feeling that she hasn’t felt since the first time she took down a scorpion-like wrath all on her own and it takes her a moment to realize its _fear_.

She doesn’t know who this skeleton is, but something inside is demanding caution, and despite how her fear is quickly turning to rage, something she could control, she isn’t stupid enough to ignore that gut wrenching warning. 

Lilith shakes herself out, and clears her throat, “Hey?” she calls out to him coldly, drawing that jerky, broken movement towards her, and it makes her frown, “You looking for someone?”

He doesn’t say anything to her, and the fog still shrouded his expression, leaving only his unreliable body language to go by, but something inside screams to be ready to attack.

The skeleton slowly approaches, and Lilith’s eyes narrow but she refuses to step back, she won’t be cowed by anyone. Her heart pangs when it’s Sans’s face that grins back up her, wrong and broken, like someone split her mate open shattered the person he was and stapled him back together.

He actually _glitches_ like he’s made of broken pixels that are struggling to stay within his body, like he’s both dusting and staying whole at the same time. When he grins at her with a crooked yellow smile, Lilith knows without a doubt what the fallen children felt when Sans judged them. Her breathing hitches, and something cold grips her spine.

Tilting his head towards her, the crimson of his sockets flash with amusement and his multicolored eye lights focus in on her. Lilith takes a deep breath and another mouthful of her coffee, and makes a decision as she centres herself, “You know what?” he hums in question to hers, his grin widening as she shakes her head no, “Nope. I’m not dealing with this shit this early in the morning. I’ve barely finished my first cup of coffee, and you know what, you look like a Nightmare problem.”

The monster’s eyes widen at the mention of Nightmare, and a distance, foggy memory snaps into place as Lilith remembers a story, the one she sort of remembers from the night they saved Sin. Nightmare had a friend, sort of, called Error, and Lilith would put good money on this being him.

“Error, right?” she asks, taking another mouthful of coffee, and the twisted grin widened, “Yeah, nope. Not even dealing with this.” She steps back slowly, keeping her eyes on the monster in her yard as she backed to the porch door and edged it open.

Leaning partly inside, she tries to keep her eyes on Error, “Hey Nights?” she called into the compound, “Nightmare, I need you to come outside man. There’s..”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, not as _something_ reaches into her chest and twists around her soul and squeezes. Pain flutters like a bird through her chest as she chokes on her words, and it spreads all the way down to her fingers and toes before a horrible numbness spread through her.

Her favorite mug slips through her fingers and she can’t make her body move to catch it before it hits the ground. Horror like never before fills her as the ceramic smashes against the wooden planks of the porch and her favorite mug shatters.

Tears fill her eyes as panic seizes her soul as she realizes she _can’t_ make her body respond, and when Error twitches his fingers, she moves like a puppet and backs towards him. It’s jerky and broken as she fights him from the inside as hard as she can, but she fails as her body betrays her, taking shaky step after shaky step towards Error.

A tear spills down her cheek as Error chuckles darkly, and another twist of his fingers has her soul revolting as sickness fills her and her armor is summoned.

“InterEsting.” He tells her mildly from behind, his voice broken like it comes from the battered speakers of a computer, “Haven’t SEen HumAns wiTh MagIc before.”

Horror fills Lilith, panic is clawing at her throat and it makes it hard to think. She can’t get past the sudden fuzz in her mind, can’t get the tears to stop coming and she chokes on her anxiety that someone else had total control over her. It’s something she swore would never happen again, she would never allow herself to be caught, to be weak and never allow someone to own her body without her permission.

It’s just as bad as being a prisoner of war, when she had no control over her body, when someone else could do with it what they wanted and they-

Red steps through the open door, and relief so sweet hits Lilith that she nearly weeps with it. She needs to get it together, she knows, knows she will be useless to Red when he gets her free, _~~he will get her free, he won’t leave her, he won’t, he won’t, he won’t,~~_ and she needs to fight.

“What the fuck are you-“ his voice peters out when he sees her panicked face, and it makes his soul curl in on itself when he sees it. He slowly steps all the way outside, his sneakers crunching into the broken pieces of her favorite mug and her chest is alight with Error’s warped magic. His cables twine around her soul cruelly, taking her freedom and agency, he’s made her a puppet and _fury_ fills Red. 

Lilith was _his_ friend, _his_ mage, and he’d be damned if he’d let Error hurt her. Magic snaps at his fingers and his eye lights fade into the nothingness of his skull, and solid black stared back out at Error. He grounds his teeth, and he coils tight with tension and anger.

Red maybe a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t take Error, not on his own, but he can distract. He glances to Lilith, sees the panic choking her and hates to see this much upset in her expression, despises to see her look so helpless, its not a fitting look for his fierce battle mage.

He can reassure her that he’s not leaving her to her fate alone. He’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.

“Boss?” he calls gruffly into the compound, and it makes Error’s face light up in delight even as it draws an exasperated sigh from the kitchen, “Come here.”

Red isn’t sure if Edge is just missing the tenseness in his voice, or if they’re going soft here, but either way Red’ll deal with that later. After they’ve got Lilith freed and send Error packing.

“How many times have I,” Edge’s irritation at his brother’s preferred nickname dies in its cradle as he comes to the porch and sees Error. He growls, low and vicious when he sees that Lilith has been trapped, and Red doesn’t need to turn to see his brothers rage.

“I need you to go get Nightmare.” Red tells him, all calm, calm, _calm_.

Edge takes a breath, likely to argue, but Red is faster, “Now.” His tone is cold and savage, and one that Edge would never argue with. He’s gone in a flash, and Red can hear him running, can hear him ignoring the other’s questions as he bolts for the stairs and Red losses him to distance.

His gaze flickers briefly to Error’s gleeful expression before going back to Lilith’s terrified one. He doesn’t bother begging Error for her freedom, doesn’t barter with him, knows there’s no point. He just needs to calm Lilith down by time Nightmare gets here.

“Angle Dust?” he grits out with a tense, bitter voice as terrified crimson eyes lock on to him, and Red lifts his hands, “Yer okay.” Error laughs at that, and Red ignores him, “Yer not gonna hurt me.” he gives her a confident, slick grin, “I’m faster then ya.”

“No your not.” Her voice is weak, desperate in her fear, and Red hates it. Lilith is strong and confident, she wasn’t _this_.

“Sure I am.” He tells her with confidence as he side-steps off the porch, keeping them both in sight and Error twister her to keep Lilith between them, “We’ve never opened up the chamber and really went at it. But right now,” and he glances to Error with a dark look, “I need you to get your shit together. Fucking breath and calm down.”

She blinks at him, has that much control at least, and she takes a breath, “Okay.” Panic is still thick in her voice, but its fading, and Red nods with her.

“Good, now fucking breath. In for four,” and she does, slow and deep, the tears in her eyes slowing as she blinks rapidly, “Good now out for four.”

Error laughs in his otherworldly way that reminds Red of the hell hounds, “ThE fUcK hAPpen to YoU ReD?” a body is suddenly warm at his back and Felix curses when he sees his sister in her heavy armor and her chest alight with Error’s magic, “YoU’vE GoNe SoFt.”

Red doesn’t bother talking to him, no point, instead he gives Error the finger and keeps talking to Lilith, “Keep breathing angel dust.” He told her calmly as Felix, then Sans came outside.

He glances to Sans, he’s frozen and still, watching his mate with agony in his eye lights, his mouth partly open in horror, but Red doesn’t have time to sooth him. He glances further back as Glass moves to come out as well, only to still when Red shakes his head no, _keep the others inside._

He can see how Glass is torn between coming for Error to save Lilith and keeping the others safe, but ultimately folds to Red. Grim faced, he nods as he steps back and closes the sliding glass door, and the compound shimmers in the protective magic now that the last entrance is closed, allowing them to activate.

The others, at least, are safe.

He turns back to Lilith, still breathing slow and careful, and he allows a little of his anger to slip, “Listen you two.” Felix and Sans’s horrified faces turn to him, and his soul does a funny flip that they’re just as horrified, “Error has his cables rammed through her soul, she ain’t controlling her body right now.”

Her brother and her mate’s eyes home in on her and the deep blue cables that keep her contained, “We need ta sever the cables. But don’t get close to Error,” he gives them a grave look, his mouth curling into a sneer, “Else you’ll be trapped too.”

“CuTe ReD.” Error mocks, making them glower at him, “DiDN’t think yOU’d caRe so MuCH about huMans.”

Felix snarls as yellow magic fills his eyes and surrounds his body as he summons his armor. Sans’s eye lights fade, and his left eye erupts into blue and yellow magic, full of justice and patience, tinged in rage, “She can heal.” Sans muttered to them, “It’ll hurt, but she can heal.” He gives them a grave, angry look and Red doesn’t think he’s ever understood someone so deeply before, “She’ll never forgive herself if she hurts one of us.”

They both nod, grimed faced, and Felix mutters, “Guys, Lilith is a better fighter then me.”

“There’s three of us.” Red hisses back, making Felix rolls his eyes.

“You think that matters?” Felix hisses softly back, hands open but magic sparks at his fingers.

“ReD?” Error calls out, amused and delighted, “WhEre’s NigHTmare?”

Red sneers, magic sparking at his own fingers, “Why’don’ta come ‘ere yurself an find out?”

Error grins, like this is a cosmic joke and Lilith can only gasp as her body moves without her permission, and she attacks. Red’s anticipating the attack, has been waiting for it, and is surprised that it took Error so long as it did to have Lilith shoot forward, blade in hand.

The swing is wild and sloppy, easily dodged as Red shortcuts a short distance away, barely a hop, and they both realizes, _Error has no idea how to manipulate her body_. Lilith knows how to fight, but Error doesn’t know how to make her move smoothly. 

Lilith’s body swings at him again, but the sword is caught easily by a well placed bone construct, and the metal bites into his magic. He’s able to grab the front of her chest plate, yanking her down, shoving her arm away easily to get in nice and close, his mouth against her ear, “I won’t let you hurt them.”

Relief swells so sweetly, too thickly, that Red nearly chokes on it, and when her soul song warbles out pain and fear, his calls back in a strong, firm melody of comfort, “I got’tchu angle dust.”

Lilith relaxes, and shutters out a sigh even as she presses her blade harder into the bone construct, “Thank you.” She whispers softly to him.

Red nods, even as his soul swells in delight that she believes in him and then crushes at what he’s about to do to her, “Yer welcome.” Then he pulls back and slams his head as hard as he can into hers, breaking her nose.

Lilith’s head snaps back as blood bursts from her nose, splattering across Red’s face, hot and it tastes like copper. She stumbles back away from him as her soul is instantly caught by Sans, and Red is grudgingly impressed, spitting the blood that is not his to the ground, when Sans throws Lilith like a child’s toy. She doesn’t utter a noise as she skids across the wet grass, rolling painfully even when Sans winces, but suppresses it as best as he can, and Felix is on her in a flash.

He pounces, pinning his sister into the damp earth on her back with his heavier weight. There’s a clang of metal on metal as his axe slammed into her swords, a flash of sparks as he tries to take an arm and presses downward as hard as he can, meeting her power with his own. Crimson and yellow magic spark between them, and Lilith begins to press upwards, pressing Felix’s axe away.

Red takes his chance, uses all his anger he rips the blaster from the void, its massive maw opens and crimson magic gathers at its core, but Error doesn’t look nearly as concerned as he should be. Rather, he grins, wide and manic in a challenge.

The blaster whines loudly as Error twinges his fingers, and Lilith elbows her brother in the face, smashing into his jaw and making him bleed. Blood splatters onto her face, and Lilith flinches as Error yanks her backwards. Her boots scrap along the ground as her body responds to a control that is not hers, and Red is horrified with how smoothly Error gets her to back up, how quickly he’s _learning_.

He pulls her back until Lilith’s in front of him, a wide eye’d shield made of flesh and bone, and something squeezes Red’s soul. He’d never considered that he’d kill _her_ , and his shoulders tense as his stomach bottoms out.

He barely tips the blaster upwards, the hot ray of magic barley missing Lilith and Error, washing them out in red light that makes Lilith seems translucent. The usually light freckles that are speckled across her nose seem dark in the light of his magic, her eyes too wide with panic and behind her Error looks _delighted._

A thick wedge in his throat nearly chokes Red, that was too close, far too close and he wonders where the fuck Nightmare is.

Shooting forward, Lilith charges, eyes wide and panicked as she grasped the front of his shirt, helpless in her own body to stop it. She can’t do anything as her body betrays her, clinging hard to Red as she pulls back her fist and slams it into Red’s ribs with a sickening crack.

Pain ripples through his body as a bone snaps, but he ignores it as he flares his claws and buries them her belly where her chest plate ended. He pressed his sharp fingers into the soft part of her body, feeling flesh and muscle slice under his claws as blood rushed over his fingers, hot and sticky.

Lilith gasped, not ready for the pain as Red tares a fist full of flesh from her side, pulling tissue and organ from her body in a brutal yank. Blood pools down the side of her armor as Error pulled her fist back like a puppet and she hits Red with a closed fist in the side of his face.

A bruise blossoms nearly instantly along his jaw line like a painful shadow. He glares darkly with a growl as he shoves his fingers back into her side, and quickly yanks them from her belly, pulling back as much flesh as he could in a messy handful, that Lilith doesn’t gasp at the second time.

She looks horrified that she’s going to hurt _him_ as she reaches back to hit him again. Red is braced for the pain, pulls his own hand back to strike again as green magic begins to slowly knit her body back together, when Felix attacks from behind.

His heavy weight slams into her back that doesn’t move her, but she lets Red go with a grunt, and he quickly scrambles away, putting distance between himself and a better fighter. Never once does he give her his back as he slips away with a snarl, rubbing painfully at his chin.

Felix has his sister in a head lock, using his heavy weight to keep her pinned to his body as the bleeding began to slow, covering both mages in the sticky liquid. They’re both struggling hard, fighting viciously, two opposing forces struggling for control when she elbow him hard in the stomach, and her body shifts.

Lilith lashes out with her leg, slamming her booted heel into Felix’s knee, shattering the joint, earning a yelp of pain from Felix and a startled cry from Lilith. Error laughs at her cry of heartbroken agony and Felix’s choked pain, and Red hates how much glee Error is getting from this. Hates how quickly he figured Lilith out, how he figured out to press her buttons to turn her into a weapon.

Red hates how her expression crumbles into agony every time she hits one of them. It hurts to see her so upset, so distressed and for him to be so helpless.

She summons a sword, ready to thrust it through Felix’s body as he doubles over in pain, choking on his agony as his bones mend themselves, still he has an axe in hand, ready to attack her. Even when his bones grind, making Red cringe at the noise and blood pools beneath him.

Sans turns Lilith’s soul blue again, and he pulls her away from her brother, bouncing her once, twice, and Red winces when he hears something in her body pop, it sounds thick and wet when Sans goes for a third. Yet, Error pulls her out of the spell through determination and will alone, shoulder rolling her towards Sans gracefully.

Red feels his throat constrict, feels terror fill him, and he just doesn’t _think_ , throws away every survival lesson he’s ever shoved down Edge’s and the kid’s throat, and steps into a shortcut.

Everything happens in slow motion as Lilith charges Sans, his body is tense and ready to move, ready to shortcut, when Red appears next to him. He gives Sans a hard _shove,_ he steps into the line of fire, ducks as Lilith swings at his skull, missing the top if his head by millimetres as he spins _towards her_.

He catches her around the waist, like they’re dancing, and Red flips her to the ground. It’s an easy, quick maneuver, that Lilith is clearly ready for.

Or at least, Error is.

The movement Lilith hits the ground, she’s already moving, dragging Red down with her. His claws go for her throat, but she catches his hand, twisting her body to land on top, pinning Red down with her heavier weight as she summoned a sword.

Despite himself, he feels a flush of arousal that she’s got him pinned, and that quickly dies as she lifts a blade over head. He swallows hard and know what comes next.

Red sees the glint of crimson steel, sees it lift high towards the grey clouds and sees the panic on Lilith’s face. He sees her expression crumple as she knows what’s coming, knows she’s _faster_ then Red and she has him trapped.

He doesn’t see something inside Lilith snap, not with his own death in his sockets, not with the sword plunging towards his skull. Determination and fury fill Lilith, knocking away any remnant of panic or doubt, and her _vice_ filled her.

Crimson magic shot out from under Red as hot lines, like code of a computer as Lilith pulled hard on her rage, and something tore itself free. It was almost like something wet was ripped out, leaving her bleeding without taking damage, and Lilith _knew_ she would destroy herself to save them.

Fury ripples through her, and the tip of her blade stops short of Red’s skull as the crimson magic turns to a gravity disk, keeping Lilith in place even when Error tries to move her. Nearly laughing, Red feels a bead of sweat drip down his own skull and he grins up at her, smug and proud.

“Red.” She whispered his name brokenly as sweat began to drip down the side of her face from her temple, and her hands shook with the effort to keep them from plunging the sword into Red’s skull, “Don’t let me hurt you. Break me before I do.” She gritted out from between clenched teeth.

Red grins up at her, lazy and slick, like he didn’t doubt she could do it, “Oh, decided to wake up there angle dust?” he smirks and sits up, the blade moving back as _Lilith_ forces it back with him, “Break you? Nah, don’t think so.”

“Red.” She manages to hiss between her gritted teeth, says his name like a prayer, “Don’t let me hurt you.” She begs again, but he can see the fight coming back as determination fills her.

He glances to Error, sees the glitch frowning, sees him sweating as he presses her hands forward, gritting his teeth when they don’t budge, and Red’s grin widens in his anger. Its shallow compared to Lilith’s, and when it comes to sheer rage, she’s got it in spades, “You don’t let him hurt us.” He leans forward, like a dare, and the harder Error pushes Lilith to shove the blade through Red’s throat, the angrier she gets and the harder she fights back.

“You’re stronger then him.” Red tells her, voice gritty and guttural, “Show him.”

Lilith’s eyes turn solid black and she grits her teeth as she strains against Errors magic, and the cables around her soul tighten, slicing into her, making her bleed and wince in pain. Red could reach for them, cut them, he just could…

With a scream of frustration, Error yanks Lilith back and she’s pulled off Red like a puppet. She stumbles but her magic catches her and she pulls against the cables that cut into her soul. Pain bleeds through the numbness, and she grits her teeth as the gravity disk holds her solidly in place. She trembles like she’s in a room with increased gravity as she holds herself in place, grunting and growling lowly as she struggles stay up right.

The moment that Red has scrambled to his feet, Sans is by his side, sockets wide and panicked as he watches his mate fight against something she can’t possibly win in the long term, feels pride burst from his chest when she _does_ it, “How’d you know she would stop?”

Red grins at him, touched by the concern in his voice, “I didn’t.”

Blinking at him, Sans swats at the back of his skull, “The fuck is wrong with you?” he spits, glancing from Lilith to Red and back again, knows it would have _killed_ Lilith if she had hurt Red.

Red laughs, lets a little of his bitter anger slip passed the calm of his soul, and his fingers itch to tare Error’s head from his shoulders, “Lotsa stuff.” He gives Sans a salacious grin, “It’s why I’m your favorite.” 

Sans, despite himself, rolls his eye lights, “What the fuck are we going to do?”

The grin falls from Red’s mouth and he turns to watch Lilith struggle, watches her fight against the cords around her soul, and hears her scream in agony as they cut into her. “We need to get Nightmare.” He snarled, any presume of calmness falling, “Where the fuck is my brother?”

Sans has no answers, all he can do is glower, his anger a thin cover for his sheer panic and fear over his girlfriend. It’s a feeling Red can share, and he wonders how long could they really hold Lilith off before she got one of them.

Red glances to Felix as he pushes himself to his feet, his leg healed and his face scrunched in anger as his eyes flick to Error, and all Red can do is hope that he doesn’t do anything stupid and get himself caught.

Staring at an impossible decision, Red wonders if one of them won’t make it out of this alive.

-

Staring at the door before him, Nightmare can only frown at the wood that has no answers for him. His loose hands curl into fists and his eye light narrows on Sloan’s door, and he knows he’s being stupid by just standing here.

He knows he fucked up, knows he said something cruel to Sin, had been crass to Sloan and for what? Because he was angry and for a brief moment being cruel to someone else gave him a sense of power? He had no idea, no idea how to manage his emotions or why he snapped at them, but he had. He knew he was the dick in this scenario, no way around it.

Heaving a sigh, Nightmare knew he was a jerk, knew _how_ to be a jerk. He had no idea how to apologize.

It was harder to say sorry, to say _he_ was sorry and actually sound like he meant it. He…wanted to mean it.

He snorts, eye light rolling at the irony of it all, that of all the horrible things he’s ever done, this is the one he feels bad about. He hadn’t meant to hurt Sin’s feelings, he hadn’t meant to be nasty to Sloan, and he wanted to make amends.

He just had no idea how to.

Licking his teeth, he wonders if he should get somebody to help, but that would mean _asking_ for it. How the hell did you do that? _Who_ would he ask for help and be okay to put himself in a vulnerable position with? Asking for help would mean exposing himself as lost and confused, handing over all the power to whoever he went to.

It made him uncomfortable, and he has to wonder. How the fuck was he going to make this up to them?

Lifting his hand to knock on the door, all he had to do was rap his knuckles against the wood, and _talk_ to Sloan. He’s spoken to her a bunch; this should be _easy._ His soul does a painful lurch in his chest and twists, and with a snarl he drops his fist back to his side.

Scrubbing at his face, he grits his teeth, “How the fuck do you all feel all the time?” he asks the empty hallway, rubbing at his eyes as his soul twists. His stomach feels heavy, and he can’t shake the over whelming sense of dread at the fact that he _knows_ he’s hurt Sloan and Sin.

Especially Sin. He never should have said that to him, never should have asked Sin if the kiss had been worth it. That had been cruel, unnecessary.

It was just fucking mean.

Licking his teeth, Nightmare swallows again and rallies his courage. He could do this, he could apologize to his favorites, he could make this right. He _could_.

Lifting his fist, he settles himself and his throbbing soul. He’s about to knock when Edge comes shooting up the stairs, angry and panicked, he practically skids around the corner, “Error is here.” He spits, marching past Nightmare to pound on Sloan’s door.

Nightmare freezes, not that Error is here, but that Edge has just knocked on Sloan’s door so easily, so unbothered when he, the self-proclaimed _King_ , couldn’t. Nightmare hates it, hates himself and hates Error. He grits his teeth, and his tentacle’s rattle with agitation that’s ignored when Sloan pulls her door open.

Her eyes blaze with anger, hot with fury when her gaze lands on him, and her full lips pull into an angry snarl so vicious that even Nightmare flinches back. In her bed, Sin is laying on his side, his back to the door as he curled into a small, miserable ball, and desolation pools in Nightmare’s broken soul.

He. He did that.

His shoulders slump as he watches Sin breathe and his shoulders tremble with each hitching gasp, and Nightmare _knows_ this is all he’s good for. He causes misery, nothing more and he shouldn’t have nice things or keep nice people.

Sloan’s fury cools when her gaze shifts to Edge, and she ignores Nightmare, “Edge?”

“Lilith needs you.” He tells her coolly, his hands trembling in anger and he itches to go back to the fight, “Error is here.”

Sloan’s eyes widen, and her anger turns to fear, then fury, “What did he do to her?”

“His cables. He’s got her soul caught, she’s acting as a puppet.” He glances to Nightmare before he looks back to her, “Sans, Felix and Red are keeping them busy, but something’s going to give.”

Sloan blinks at him as fury fills her and azure magic burn in her eyes, and magic sparks at her fingers, “Can you stop him?” she askes Nightmare, her anger sharp and vicious, and Nightmare instantly feeds from her anger.

“Of course he fucking can.” Sin sneers, drawing the others gaze, and Nightmare cringes when he looks too pale. His bones are washed out, and the darkness under his sockets are thick, heavy smudges. He looks tired, drained, and his eyes lights are dull as he pulls on his heavy leather jacket. It’s all compounded by the bruising that still mars his pretty face, and Nightmare _winces._ Guilt is heavy in his soul, and shame makes him feel like he’s drowning.

He notices that Sin’s wearing his heavier clothing around him again, and that makes something in his soul _hurt_. Nightmare is quick to remind himself he doesn’t get to feel like that, not when it was his fault. This was his own doing, and this was the consequence of that choice.

“But your sis is going to need your help. We need to get her loose.” Sin sounds angry, he doesn’t look at Nightmare, and he hates that Sin ignores him like that. Doesn’t give Nightmare the time of day, not that he deserves it, as he stalks past them all, shoulders hunched and his head down.

He knows he needs to get to Error and deal with him, needs to stop him be fore he hurts someone, but Nightmare can’t help how his soul crushes inward when he’s ignored. 

Sloan’s mouth becomes a tight line of anger, and fury blazes in her eyes as she follows him out, hot on his heels with Edge behind her.

Nightmare curses and follows them out. He feels hallow, like he missed his chance at something important and he’s not certain he’s going to get another opportunity to. Snarling, he follows along, cursing Error for his poor timing and shitty behavior.

-

Everyone clears the way as Sloan marches through the kitchen and to the back porch. Her hands are balled into fists and fury eats at her soul. She’s right behind Sin, who, despite how badly he’s feeling, how he’s stuck in a deep dark hole, is still hell bound to help her sister.

Sloan softens, if only a little, as she watches his back, sees how his shoulders are slightly hunched up around his skull, and how his hands are stuffed into his pockets. It’s all to make himself look smaller, be a smaller target and that’s not out of some justifiable fear of Error.

She feels her belly tighten and her chest ignite with anger at the thought of _why_ Sin was so hurt. Why he had been clawing his way out of a dark pit of depression when he had been doing so well. Sloan was ashamed to instantly think it had been because of her, something she had done, a misspoken word while Sin was still recovering.

Yet, no. His current spiraling emotional state had _not_ been something she had said, but much to her horror, it had been Nightmare. She can’t bare to look back at him, not right now, not with so much anger in her heart.

She hadn’t been blind in her rage, she could see how he was withdrawn, his tentacles curled in tight to protect him as Edge sought their help, how he barely lifted his sockets to look at her in the eye. He was hurting too, suffering in his lack of emotional understanding, and struggling.

Yet, all she could think of was Sin, curled on his side, tears in his sockets when he told Sloan what Nightmare had said in his moment of anger. How he spat such cruel words to Sin, had asked him if his kiss with his Frisk had been worth it, _blamed_ him for what happened or at least made him feel like that.

He had been unnecessarily cruel, delivering a crushing blow when Sin was still reeling from the trauma of his world. Nightmare had been needlessly brutal, and Sloan couldn’t understand what he was hoping to gain from it, why he had said such things just to hurt Sin.

It made Sloan angry.

Angry enough that she can’t look at Nightmare right now, angry enough that she would rather deal with Error on her own and not have to rely on his help, but she isn’t stupid enough to try it. Not with Lilith hanging in the balance, and her sister was too great a threat to leave in Error’s hands.

No, once they calmed down and had some distance, she would deal with Nightmare.

She sees Sin curl a little further into his jacket as they come to the door, and she quickens her steps to take his hand, linking her fingers trough his. Sad eye lights turn to her, still raw with his pain, grieving as self loathing chokes him.

“Sorry.” He muttered quietly, and Sloan squeezes his fingers.

She offers him a small smile, a brief one that there and gone between one breath and another as they pause before the door, “No need to apologize.” She lifts his hand to brush a kiss against is knuckles, and his tense shoulders loosen, and he offers her a brief smile. 

It’s gone just as quick and he squares his shoulders as Edge shoves the door open, and they walk out into a battlefield.

Sloan stills, her hand tightening on Sin’s and she grits her teeth hard enough that she’s afraid she’ll chip one. Edge sighs next to them, and when Nightmare curses, Sloan can only agree.

Standing in a gravity disk to keep herself from moving, Lilith is fighting with Felix, going blow for blow, with his axe and both are bleeding from well placed slices and attacks. She punches him in time to deflect a bone attack from Sans, but she catches Red’s attack of sharpened bones to her guts.

She barely grunts, running hard on adrenaline and looks like she’s trying to fight whatever power Error has over her with all she’s got. Sweat drips down her brow, and Lilith grits her teeth as she tries hard not to hurt one of hers.

Blood pools down her lower abdomen as Red sweats to keep her pinned in place, there’s a fine line of marrow from his nasal structure from where Lilith has punched him, but he doesn’t seem overly bothered by the attack.

The blow doesn’t slow Lilith down, but between the constructs that run through her and the gravity disk, she stays pinned.

Something loosens in Sloan, and her eyes focus in on the disk under her beloved sisters’ feet. She raises her brow and catches her tongue in her teeth as she stares at the magic that spreads out under Lilith, “She still has access to her magic.”

Edge and Sin turn to her as Sloan’s face hardens and she glances to Error. He’s grinning and delighted, using her sister’s body like it was his own, laughing at the pain and misery he was causing, _mother fucker_.

The plan comes to Sloan quickly, and she narrowed her eyes on him, “Nightmare, if we can get Lilith clear, can you stop him?”

“Yes.” Nightmare nodded, voice low and formal, and from her peripheral she can see him shiver at being addressed by her after isolating himself for days.

“Good. Sin, Edge,” they both turn to her, heads titled and eyes lights dark with anger. Sloan was glad to see it in Sin, was glad to see anything other then sadness and hurt, “I need you to draw Error’s attention away from me. Head left, and hit Lilith with everything you’ve got.”

Edge opens his mouth to protest, eye lights narrowed and angry, and Sloan is expecting the objection, “She can take it Edge. Trust me. Just get Error to look to you.”

“What are you going to do?” Sin’s voice is still rough with exhaustion and hurt, and worry lingers in his eye lights.

Sloan softens a little and gives him a shallow smile, “Get close.” She squeezes his fingers and turns back to Edge, “Tell Sans to be ready to use blue magic to pull Lilith and I away once I get the cables off her.”

Edge nods, magic sparks at his fingers as he summons a pair of sharp bone constructs and he turns for Lilith. He’s off like a shot, running hard as he can, and as Sin goes to follow, Sloan holds his hand tightly, squeezing his hand hard.

He stopped short, caught at the end of his arm like a leash and Sloan tugged him back towards her. He gives her a confused look as he’s tugged back, his mouth pulling into a confused frown as Sloan leaning up on to the balls of her feet and pressed a kiss to his frowning mouth.

Sin stills, gasping softly into their kiss that makes Nightmare frown as he watches them before he drops his gaze. He knows it was his fault that Sin is hurting, that Sloan is caring for him because Nightmare was lacking something. Compassion maybe, knowledge perhaps, and he has no reason to feel his soul ache when she kisses him.

He has no reason to feel hurt when Sin relaxes and kisses her back, his shoulders loosening when Sloan breaks the kiss, her hand cupping his cheek, “Be careful.” She tells him firmly, and Sin helplessly nods at her, a soft look on his face.

She brushes his chin with her thumb, and Sin’s sockets sink shut with a sigh, “I will.”

“Good.” She gives his chin an affectionate nudge, “Kick her ass babe.”

Giving her a crooked grin, Sin’s gone after Edge in a blink, charging at Lilith with everything he’s got, magic flashing as bones shoot out at her. Sloan takes a breath and watches as she brushes their attacks away easily with quick, well placed slices with her swords, keeping them at bay.

They’re drawing Error’s attention, just like she asked, pulling away from Sloan and Nightmare, throwing everything at Lilith.

“Sloan.” Nightmare’s voice is cold as ice, angry, but not at her and she latches onto his fury, “What’s the plan here?”

“Lilith can use magic.” She tells him, centering her soul, calming herself for what she was about to do, knowing its probably going to hurt, “Which means so can I.”

Nightmare has been nodding along with her explanation, it almost makes sense. Too much sense, and it comes crystal clear to Nightmare in a horrifying moment. It sends a cold tendril through him as a wave of understanding crashes over him, “Sloan wait!”

He moves to grab her, to stop her from her suicidal plan as she suddenly shoots forward, tracing across the battlefield like hell on wheels. Nightmare freezes, feels his soul wedge into his throat as Sloan comes out of her trace like the Tasmanian devil, each hand mitted with magically summoned claws, ready to tear into Error’s skull.

She flies from the trace over his head, striking downwards in time for him to look upward, his delighted grin falling from his mouth, and the blue of her magic shone over his face. Horror fills Nightmare as Error shortcuts away, Sloan missing him by a hair’s breath, and he catches her soul in his cables with a laugh.

Nightmare feels his soul constrict as Sloan cries out in pain, stumbling as she falls hard and the cables tighten around her soul. Gritting his teeth, Nightmare’s tentacles puff up in fury as Error’s laugh, moving Sloan like a puppet, moving her to be next to her sister.

He hates it, hates how quickly Error, who had once been one of his own, twisted Sloan into something she wasn’t. Completely under his control, and she doesn’t even fight.

Nightmare pauses at that as Sloan strolls easily up next to Lilith, and the others instantly back off. They all step back, hands curled into fists and faces contorted into anger and panic, and Nightmare _watches_. He _sees_ Sloan, the human he’s adored since the moment she held him and severed the connection to Chara and kept him safe. Sloan, as fierce as the battle mages, just as kind and fair, and she’s calm as all hell.

Calm enough for Nightmare to realize that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

“Lilith.” Sloan greeted coolly, as if they were meeting for lunch as she was stopped next to her sister.

“The fuck are you doing?” Lilith asked between gritted teeth, crimson eyes looking to Sans and Red, horror and fear clear in her expression, fear of hurting them as they both panted hard. Edge pushed them both back, looking stricken and afraid, as did Sin.

Sloan grins at Lilith, “Saving you, you dolt.” She tells her sister with a bright smile, drawing Lilith’s strained gaze to her.

“What?” Lilith sounds tired, worn out from fighting a battle she could never win, and Sloan smirks at her.

Its dark and cold grin, and very clearly a _trap_ , “You remember Prague?” Nightmare can’t help but be enamored with her amused tone, clinging to her voice after what felt like a lifetime without it.

Lilith grins, understands what Sloan means the moment the words leave her lips, “Oh, I remember Prague.” She winces as the cables tare into her soul a little more, but she’s firm with the gravity disk under her feet and the bones still in her belly, “Shitty mission that was.” He grits out from between her teeth.

It makes Sloan grin, “Yeah, sure was.” A blue gravity disk spreads as she speaks lightly, airily and unconcerned, “Would be a shame if we did what we did there, here, no?”

“Yeah,” Lilith grins darkly, pulling more magic from her soul, “A fucking shame.”

They share a grin, dark and cruel, and they fight Error with everything they have, fighting to stay put, pinned to the ground and begin to chant. They speak as one, pulling on magic _hard_ they plunge into their deep wells of power, and allow it to fill them easily.

They allow it to take them, buzz through them and using Error as a conduit, they combined their souls and power, and chant. Lilith drains faster, a mixture of unfamiliar magic and blood loss, but her magic fills her no less and with no less speed.

Blue and red fill the space between them, turning the air an eery purple, and their skin glows with the power of their magic, bright and hot from the inside. Their eyes glow with power and magic before they both burst into hot blue flames.

It licks down their bodies, dances in their hair and down their legs. It engulfs them both, and even Error is shocked as they both ignite, taking a step back in horror.

Sans make’s wounded noise to see his mate burst into flames, raw and painful, and his attempt to get to Lilith is absorbed by Felix. The mage grabs him tightly, roughly telling Sans that its okay, they weren’t being hurt. It’s a spell, a powerful one, but they would live.

He trembles in Felix’s arms, reaching for and gripping onto Edge, as the fire spreads fast. Too fast for Error to control, and it burns down his cables like they’ve been soaked in gasoline, pushed by the fury of mages.

Error has no choice but to release them when the fire licks at his hands, burning the bones and the cables snap with a cry of agony. The moment they’re free, their souls bleeding, they move as one, folding at the knees and slapping their hands into the ground, they collapse. Lilith sinks down Red’s bone constructs, leaving a messy trail of blood and gore down the thick bones that makes everyone sick.

She and Sloan end the chant together on a single word to snuff out the flames suddenly, as if they’d been doused in water. Black smoke lifts from their bodies like steam, leaving them both trembling in the dirt and Sans uses the moment, the distraction he’s been given, and he doesn’t squander it. 

Nightmare watches this all with growing fury, and he tastes anger on the back of his tongue like blood. He watches as Sans turns their souls blue, and like puppets whose strings have been cut, Sans pulls them both away as hard as he can.

They’re flung towards them like rag dolls, so fast the Red barely has time to dismiss his constructs that have torn chunks out of Lilith, and into the group. It happens so fast Sin barely catches Sloan, safe and whole, and it nearly sends them both stumbling to the ground.

Lilith hits Sans with enough force that she does knock him down, flattens him under her heavier weight bleeding out all over him, and immediately Red and Edge are all over them.

Nightmare stops watching, stops worrying, and charges Error.

He’s all over him in the blink of an eye, barely takes into consideration that he’s cooling his burnt hands, doesn’t care that Error has taken damage as he drags Error down in a brutal tackle. He doesn’t bother to unleash his negativity, he knows it wouldn’t do as much lasting damage to Error, and a greater part of him wants Error to _hurt_ for what he’s done. He wants him to suffer for everything he’s done to Lilith and pay for what he did to _his_ Crew.

He doesn’t look too much into the fact he called Lilith one of his.

Error goes down hard with a choked yelp, trying to roll Nightmare’s heavier weight, and finally crying out in pain as Nightmare’s thick tentacles with their sharpened ends pierce his fragile body. His tentacles coil tightly though Errors ribs and begin to squeeze with the intent to shatter his rib cage. Intent on _breaking_ Error.

Error laughs, “WhAt’s WroNg NighTmare? Did I StriKe a NerVe?” 

Nightmare hisses at him, shrieks in his anger as his mouth become sharpened teeth and snarling jaws, and he hits Error. He hits him hard with a closed fist, feels the satisfying crunch under his knuckles as something in Error’s skull gives, leaving him with a heavy crack under his socket.

Error laughs again, sockets wide with anger, “I bET you’VE waiTed A LOng tIME to DO thaT? Eh, NighTMare?” he grins twists as Nightmare hits him again, enjoying the feeling of his knuckles slamming into the side of Error’s face.

Error lifts a hand, shaky with being touched and exhausted, and presses it against Nightmare’s chest, “SOmetHINGs diffEREnt. You’RE SoFter. HeRe.” And he presses in hard over his soul, throbbing with a cocktail of emotions he can’t comprehend yet. A horrible mixture of panic and fear, and blinding anger that anyone dare touch one of _his_ people.

Nightmare snarls, lifts his fist again to hit him, just to wipe that fucking smug look off his face and the truth from his mouth, when someone calls his name, “Nightmare stop!”

Looking up, Nightmare hisses, angry and vicious at Reaper, standing not so far from them, looking horrified behind his trembling hands with wide sockets as he takes in the battle damage around them. He looks hurt at the tight group knotted behind Nightmare, to the humans trembling in amongst the cluster of skeletons, to Lilith, who still hasn’t moved from Sans’s grip.

“Please, stop.” Reaper says again, sounding a little stronger, “We just want to talk.”

“Talk?” Nightmare hisses, swatting Error’s hand from his chest, “He attacked us.”

Error laughs, going limp in Nightmare’s hands, “WhAt’s WronG NighTMare? FeEling SoFt now?”

Nightmare snarls, anger bubbling hot in his belly as he shakes Error, “Fuck you.”

“Nightmare stop!” Reaper hisses his magic hissing as his body turns partly to smoke, “Let him up.”

Glancing to the group behind him, Nightmare frowns as he watches his people knotted together and hurt, to Sloan, who’s still smoking from her attack to save Lilith. He watches, his soul heavy, as she pats her clothing to get the smoldering to go out, and he feels something heavy fill his soul. Nightmare snarls, growls low in his throat at his injured people, and pins Error, “He attacked.”

“WaS CurIoUs.” Error rasped like the brat he was.

“Let him up.” Reaper hisses, blue and yellow magic igniting at his eye, “We just want to talk.”

Nightmare hisses, glowers up at Reaper and considers throttling Error a little more just to watch his head bobble. He resists the urge, if only just, he doesn’t need Reaper on his ass about damage his boy friend, “Sure.” He hisses and slowly lets Error up, “But he touches one of mine again, I’ll fucking rip his broken soul from his body and play hacky sack with it.”

Reaper nods, hands up and splayed in surrender, “That’s fair.” And he’s quick to help Error to his feet, and the bastard is all grins and smiles, giving Nightmare a slick amused look, “Why do you even know what a hacky sack is?”

Nightmare rolls his eye light, and Reaper doesn’t need to know it was Mercy who showed him, “Fuck off. What do you want?”

Reaper hums as he helps Error to his feet, gently taking his skull in his hands and looking him over, like he was the one who was hurt, “Are you okay my love? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Nightmare snarls at the sentiment of it all, it was pathetic, _~~and Nightmare isn’t jealous that Error gets to have what he wants, and he fucked up.~~_

Error grins at his mate, leaning into his hands as Reaper checks him over, “FiNe. I WaSn’T eXpEcTiNg tHe FiRe.” ~~~~

“Hurt him?” Nightmare hisses, drawing an unimpressed look from Reaper, “He’s the one who fucking attacked mine. He should be _lucky_ I didn’t hurt him.”

Reaper rolled his eye lights, and huffed at Nightmare before going back to ignoring him. Everyone seemed to be doing that lately, and it rankled, “You were supposed to wait for me.” It was gently said, not accusatory, and that more then anything made Error look down bashfully.

“I cOuLd SenSe a cHanGe in NigHtmare. I WaS cUrIoUs.” He shrugged and gave Reaper a crooked grin, “SoRrY.”

Reaper sighed, brushing a soft kiss to Error’s mouth, making Nightmare’s hands shake, “It’s fine love. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Nightmare hissed out, glancing back to his own people, keeping them where he could see them and make sure they were safe.

Reaper huffed and shoved Error behind him, “To see what in the hell has gotten into you.” He tells Nightmare plainly, puffing himself up with pride, as if he dared Nightmare to doubt him, “You just disappeared from the multiverse, with no explanation.”

Nightmare gives him a skewed look, he doesn’t trust Error, not in the least bit, but he lets Reaper rant, “You left everything to Error and I,” and Nightmare sneers, “And the Star Sans’s have been harassing us for weeks.”

“Poor you.” Nightmare spat, “You deal with them for a while.”

Reaper snorts, fluffing his magic up to give the illusion he was bigger, “Well they’re blaming us for the universes collapsing.”

“Of course, they are.” Nightmare snarled, “Angel forbid they take responsibility for their own fucking actions.”

He glances to Error, pressed into Reaper’s side, and Nightmare hates that his soul presses inward painfully. He feels alone, so alone out here, and he’s quick to shove that feeling down and swallows the wedge in his throat.

“You’re brother’s also worried.” Reapers tries hesitantly, drawing a hiss from Nightmare, “He isn’t sure what to make of your disappearance. If it’s a trap or if your hurt.” His white eye lights assessing him coolly, looking for a flaw in Nightmare, “Error’s right, you are different.” His head tilts and Reaper’s eye lights narrow, “You seems softer. It’s like,”

Nightmare is quick to interrupted when Reaper is hitting too close to home, too close to a vulnerability that Nightmare doesn’t need anyone to know about, “How the fuck did you find me?”

Reaper blinks at him, glancing to his chest where his soul was hidden, “Felt Crow’s magic. He was throwing off a ton of volatile energy that isn’t normally in this part of the multiverse, figured you were here.” He glanced to the knot of humans and monsters at his back, and Reaper grins, “Wasn’t expecting you to have made friends with the locals. I was expecting damage and destruction.”

“Surprise.” Nightmare deadpanned, “You can leave now.”

Reaper’s face crumpled in panic, “But Nightmare, the multiverse needs you.”

Fury races though Nightmare’s soul and it pulses with his anger that so easy to cling to, “Fuck the multiverse.” Reaper’s sockets widen, and Error snorts, “You deal with it. Now get lost, you’re not welcome here.”

“Nightmare,” Reaper tries, but Nightmare shakes his head. 

“No, fuck off. You came here, attacked my Crew,” and their sockets go wide at the inclusion of the humans as his finger ticks up as he counts off Error’s slights, “You broke Lilith’s favorite mug,” another finger is added to the count, and how the fuck did he remember _that,_ “And fucked with our day. No one ever gave a shit about us before, so do us the favor and continue that time-honored tradition.”

“Nightmare,” Reaper tries again, sounding a little desperate, but Nightmare is shaking his head no.

“Leave.” He hissed again, turning away and back to check on the others, “Before I decided I’m not in a very merciful mood.”

Reaper sighs, taking Error’s hand and a portal opens up behind them, “Your brothers looking for you.” He warned, inching Error back towards the portal, “And you’ve changed.” Nightmare flinches at that but doesn’t look back. Reaper chuckles as he nudges Error through the portal, “You can feel again, can’t you?” Nightmare refuses to turn towards him, refuses to acknowledge how his soul goes tight in his chest, “Best be careful Nightmare, your brother’s going to be very intrigued by that.”

He turns at that to tell Reaper off again, but the portals already spiraled shut, leaving him alone with the Den and the Crew, and the bitter taste of his failures.

Something, fear maybe, grips his soul at the thought of his brother finding this world, and it nearly chokes him.

He looks to Lilith and promises not to let anything like this happen again. Something vicious and protective swells in his soul, and that’s easier to cling to then the dread of having to talk to Sloan and Sin about his fuck up.

-

Watching Lilith pace the training gym, easily on her ninth lap, Sans heaves a sigh.

In the aftermath of the attack, Lilith had been disoriented. Now if that was from setting herself on _fire_ or having her freedom stripped away for a brief time, Sans isn’t sure which it is, but he _knows_ his girl is agitated. She’s upset, and it had taken them time to calm her down enough to get her to this point.

She’s full of helpless anger and adrenaline she has no outlet for, and Sans knows she _needs_ something. His heart pangs for her, knows that this drudged up a bunch of traumatic shit that she didn’t need to deal with right now, on top of hurting them.

Once she had stopped trembling in his arms, she had gripped he and Red, sobbing out that she was sorry, so sorry for hurting them. Sorry for making them bleed and fighting them. It was an unnecessary apology as far as Sans was concerned, she hadn’t been in control of herself and hadn’t hurt them on purpose.

Yet, Sans took it without complaint. He let her worry over them, knowing that she needed to, needed to touch them both, and make sure they were safe and alive in the aftermath. She needed to know that she hadn’t caused any lasting damage.

Red let her look over him as well but had been far more tense about the whole thing. Stiff as Lilith looked him over and touched him gently, half acting like she would hit him. Lilith took no offense to that, and Sans doubted that it stemmed from their recent fight. It likely had everything to do with his home world, and Red’s treatment when he had been hurt in the past.

These things can be hard to shake, and Sans gets it.

They had both been patient, and they let her touch and hold to her hearts content. Allowed her to look them over until she was satisfied that they were alright before adrenaline overwhelmed her and her fight or flight response kicked in harder. She had needed something to do, so Sans had dragged her to the training gym to let her do laps to calm down.

Lilith makes her tenth lap, hands linked over her head with a sour expression, and Red heaves a sigh from beside Sans, dropping his head back against the wall, “How long is she going to be freaking out?”

“Dude, come on, she was a fucking puppet for an extended period of time, cut her some slack.” Sans tells him, leaning back into the wall between Edge and Red.

“I can hear you both.” She snaps at them, still pacing around the room, all three watching her, “And I’ll take as long as I want to freak out.”

Sans nods, as if to say, _duh_ , and settles back in on Red’s side, “I think you need a distraction evil mage.” He calls out to her, a plot already taking root in his mind, and it was more of a half dare then anything else.

Lilith snorts as she starts her next lap, “Yeah, I’m cocked full of adrenaline, what the fuck are you going to do?”

Grinning, he nudges Edge, drawing his sharp toothed face down to him with a frown, and Sans melts a little, wonders what it would be like to kiss him. Wonders what it would be like to watch Lilith kiss him, but he’s not going to push his luck just yet.

No, better to keep this cute not-flirting thing going between them, and he can’t help but have a good chuckle at that sparing is near courting for battle mages, “Edge, spar with her.”

Sans gives Lilith an innocent smile and she instantly sees through his bull shit. Eh well, Sans has seen the writing on the wall, had seen it the night she brought Red to their room, hurting and sad and he _let_ them take care of him. Knew it the moment Edge came looking for his brother, and came to them for help.

Sans knew it the moment Edge was sleeping between them, clinging to them both while he and Lilith held him tightly between them.

They just had to ease the brothers into the idea.

Edge is nodding, “Of course, if it will help.” And Sans’s soul swells with affection for Edge and love for Lilith.

Gracefully, Edge pushes himself to his feet and he pads over to where Lilith is in the centre of the room and takes his position, “Whenever you are ready Lilith.”

He’s giving her the choice, and it makes Sans like him all the more as Lilith’s shoulders unwind from their tense position, “Thanks Edge.”

Sans watches with a soft grin as she calms down and takes her starting point across from him, loose and ready.

When they move, they’re both smooth and at ease with each other, and even if Lilith is the more experienced fighter, she’s slowing down for Edge. Teaching him how to better defend himself, how to better fight, and by the end of their session, they’re both laughing as they try to top each other, Error all but forgotten.

_~~And yeah, that’s hot as fuck. Sans has to suppress a little noise each time Lilith pins Edge down, all predatory grace and gentle strength.~~ _

“Ya know.” Red starts, picking at his collar, “My bro likes you two.”

Sans hums, pretends he’s not startled, and grins when he sees the interest in Red’s eye lights when he watches Lilith, “Yeah?” he says all easy and calm, “How’d that work?”

Red shrugs, still picking at the red leather, and clearly, Sans needs the story behind that, “Well, I think he’d want’cha both in collars.” He shrugs again, his expression closing off, and Sans isn’t stupid enough to think that Red wouldn’t tare himself apart for Edge, “And I guess ya’d both date ‘m.”

Sans hums again, feels his soul pulse with excitement, watches Lilith and Edge spar, sees his mate begin to _calm down_ , “Well that wouldn’t work.” He grins as Red tenses, his face clouding over with something unreadable, “Considering Lilith and I think your both pretty hot.”

That makes Red go still, his eye lights flickering out, “I mean, you were the one who helped me get her back. You kept her calm.” Red is still unmoving, acting like the thought of someone else liking him was improbable. That hurts Sans a little, to think that someone had damaged Red’s soul enough to think he was unworthy of their affection.

“So, I mean.” Sans shrugs, knows that it’s not an act and that is how Red feels. Sans knows it’s not often he lets an insecurity like this show, “It’d be more like Lilith and I would date you and Edge.”

“At.” Red clears his throat and his eye lights come back, “At the same time?”

Sans nods, leaning back against the wall, “Yeah, why not? I mean, we’d have to talk about it, but sure.” Sans swears his soul is going to burst and Red is still siting there like Sans broke him.

“But, you’d both be dating us?” He asks again slowly.

“Yep. Lilith and I would date you. Then, in addition to, we would date your brother.” Sans shrugs, “I mean, we’re a pretty good team, the four of us. And well, I’m selfish. So, you know.” He shrugs again, promising nothing but offering.

Red stares at him, and gives him a slow, crooked grin, “Yer fucking serious?” Sans nods, still watching Lilith dance around Edge, shifting a little as magic starts to gather in his pelvis, “Shit, ya are.”

Red watches them move as well, focuses on Lilith as she moves around the training mats with Edge, chucking softly, “Huh.” Settling in a little more next to Sans, Red grins, “Well, ain’t that interesting.” 

Sans smirks and hides the sheer joy in his soul, not wanting to scare Red off just yet. He can’t wait to tell Lilith, “I thought so too.”

It was, at least, food for through, and Red was ravenous.

-

Standing in front of Sloan’s door, Nightmare is back where he started the day.

In the after math of everything that happened with Error, it had taken time to calm the others down. Time for Lilith to get herself together enough to go with Sans, Red and Edge to work out her anxiety.

It took time for Nightmare to calm his own panicked soul, heavy with dread that Reaper and Error knew he was weak, and it was only a matter of time before his brother found them.

It was disconcerting that Dream was looking for him at all, no doubt looking to blame him for the state of the multiverse. In all honesty, Nightmare was just _tired_ and didn’t want to deal with him on top of his emotional upheaval.

Finally, after everyone else had been soothed, and Nightmare had been hoping to speak with Sin and Sloan, they had retreated to her room without him. It hurt to be forgotten about, and he’s quick to remind himself that he doesn’t get to feel like that when it was his own doing.

His soul squeezing with panic and dread, the day already heavy, Nightmare rallies his courage and knocks on her door. The wait is agonizingly long and terrifyingly short as Sloan pulls her door open, her cool expression hardening when she sees him.

His soul squeezes when she glowers down at him, Sin is at her side, looking vulnerable and hurting, and Nightmare thinks his soul will shatter with that look. His throat thickens and he swears his palms are sweating.

“Hey.” Sloan tells him coolly, carefully stepping out in front of Sin, acting as a shield for him, protecting him like Nightmare should have.

“Hey.” He starts, gruff and vulnerable as he takes a breath, “I wanted to apologize.” He starts, and he hates the fragile look of hope on their faces, and he knows what they need to hear from him.

Yet, faced with their hurt and upset, Nightmare chickens out, “For Error. I will ensure that I will do better to protect you from the multiverse.” Its an easier vow to make, an easier apology but not the one they need.

Just as quickly their expressions drop and close off again, leaving Nightmare alone and cold. He’s confused and he doesn’t know how to make it better.

“Nightmare.” Sloan told him firmly, keeping Sin behind her, as if she were afraid that he would harm Sin. It’s a fair assessment, “We’re not upset about Error. No one is.” Her voice is cold, flat, and Nightmare hates how that tone was directed at him, no matter how much he deserved it, “We expected to be attacked. We were ready and accepted that.”

Nightmare is helpless but to nod along, and he braces for what’s coming, reminds himself he deserves their anger, “Nightmare, how could you say that Sin?” her tone is full of hurt and irritation, her expression cracking a little with her own pain, “How could you? After everything?”

Nightmare has no answer for her, no response that will make what he did okay. He has nothing that will sooth this over, and he can’t get the words _I’m sorry_ passed the clog in his throat.

Behind her, Sin snorts and moves away from the door, “Fucking selfish prick.” He sneers, angry and Nightmare can feel the pain that radiates off him in thick waves as he retreated back into Sloan’s room. Where he’s safe and warm, and where he deserves to be.

Nightmare deserves this, he knows he does, and he accepts his punishment.

Sloan shifts as Sin walks away, sniffling and wiping at his socket and Nightmare’s soul feels heavy with guilt.

Pulling the door shut a little so that he can’t see into her room, Sloan’s brow furrows and even if her expression doesn’t show it, he can feel her pain, can feel misery that he put there pulse in her soul, “How could ever say that to him. How could you blame him?”

Nightmare has no answer and only shrugs as he focuses on his shoes. Sloan sighs, “Do you have anything to say?”

He does. He’s sorry, so sorry. He will never say it again, he didn’t mean it, _please forgive him_. Let him make amends and have nice things and keep nice people. Let him live in the sun a little longer and steal away a happiness that he should never been allowed to have in the first place.

None of this can make it passed the wedge in his throat, and all he can do is silently shake his head no.

Sloan clicks her tongue at him, and makes a choice, “Right. Well. Tell you what Nightmare,” he flinches at that. It sounds as bad hearing his full name from her as it did from Sin, “Figure your shit out and come talk with us then.”

When she closes the door, Nightmare flinches, his soul going heavy and only then does the clog comes undone. Something that felt like _unhappiness_ filled his chest, heavy and hopeless, and he was filled with sorrow at his ruined happiness.

“I’m sorry.” Is muttered quietly in the empty hallway to the wooden door where no one can hear him.


	31. A Cup Full of Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare's bad day has really turned into a bad week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Another Friday and another update. I hope you are all keeping well. :3 
> 
> We've got some big bad's happening this chapter so please take the time to read the warnings. Also! This story has almost 5000 hits at the time of this being published :D Thank you for all your continued support, it means a lot ^-^ 
> 
> So this October I haven't had the energy to take part in any writing challenges or kinktober, so I will be posting a Halloween special on the 31st in addition to my regular Haven update. (So long as everything goes smoothly the next two weeks) So if your interested, be on the look out for that. 
> 
> Otherwise, come on in and have some fun :3 
> 
> WARNING: depiction/explication of torture; waterboarding, burning, electroshock and more. Read at your own risk.

It’s a sticky, hot and miserable night, and even Nightmare isn’t sure how he hasn’t melted from the humidity. After days of rain, the sun had come back and with it the early summer heat in full force. It made everything _uncomfortable,_ and no amount of swimming had made it bearable.

Not that Nightmare was swimming much anymore, not without Sin or Sloan to go with, not with Sin avoiding him like something dirty. Not when Sin was _ashamed_ to wear anything less then heavy pants and a jacket around him.

Nightmare had done that, he was the one who put that humiliation into his soul and he made Sin feel like he was less then. That he should be ashamed of his body, that he had to hide from Nightmare.

Its just one more slight to add to his soul, one more _mistake_ that he can’t take back, adding to an already very long list. Nightmare knows it’s his fault, that he did this, and the guilt only swells, washing over him like waves crashing into the beach.

Slumping unhappily against the rough stone wall of a small pavilion, a clean little bathroom inside, Nightmare stares out into the dark, dim park in the heart of Ebott, his soul heavy with misery. He knows he doesn’t get to be this sad, this _hurt,_ over this when it was his own fault.

Stupid of him, really, to think he could keep good people or nice things. Sure, everyone left him _eventually,_ history proved that, but he really fucked up here. Sloan and Sin didn’t need to leave him, if he was casually tossing them away.

It was just…he tasted happiness. Real happiness, of his own. It belonged to him, wasn’t manufactured from his brother, wasn’t the lie the villagers crammed down his throat. It was his, and he was the one who ripped it apart.

It had been his and he had done nothing to protect it. Nothing to preserve it and nothing to resurrect it. In the days after everything with Crow, days since Error’s shitty visit and Reapers stupid warning that left him full of anxiety and feeling like there was a knife to his throat, he had done _nothing_ to make it better.

He had done nothing to heal the rift between he, Sin and Sloan. Too worried about his brother and Ink, and what they will do if they found him here, found this world that made him happy.

They’ll try to make him leave, take it away, or worse, what if the mages chose them? Everyone did, after all. Ever since he was a child, everyone always picked Dream, and he was only ever the scape goat. Second best. He was never anyone’s first choice, and that…well it did something to him that made his soul hurt.

Frowning, Nightmare scrubs at his face, tries to believe that Sloan wasn’t like that. She _wouldn’t_ choose Dream over him.

Yet, he can’t help but wonder, what if she did? What if she chose Dream and the multiverse over him? He isn’t sure his soul could handle the rejection from her, couldn’t cope if Sloan chose Dream. If she chose the greater good and turned on him to protect the multiverse.

What if she asked them to leave so he could act as the other half of the balance, dooming him to a life of pain and cruelty.

Really, and Nightmare meant this with all sincerity, his brother could go fuck himself. Let him deal with the fall out of not having them in the multiverse anymore. Let him be in charge of _everything_ if it made him so fucking happy, and Nightmare can’t help the anger that rolls through him. Helpless resentment at his brother, and he _wanted_ to hate Dream. He did.

The worse of it all, the final kick to the fucking ribs, was he couldn’t. His brother was an idiot, naive and so foolishly optimistic it bordered on stupidity, but Nightmare couldn’t hate him. He made Nightmare so angry, helplessly so. So angry that Dream always put everyone else first, still thought that Nightmare could be _saved_ or that he would even want to be saved.

He would take one look at this world with Ink, and automatically assume he wasn’t wanted here. He’d try to convince the mages that Nightmare needed _saving,_ and Ink would blame him for the universes failing, never to consider that the weak ones fell apart due to Ink’s over abundance of creation.

There was only so much that the multiverse could take, there had to be a balance and with every action came a consequence. That came in the form of _him,_ the _bad guy,_ and honestly, Nightmare was tired. He was just so tired of always running, always plotting and planning and scavenging, and for what? He was never any further a head, and he wasn’t blind to what they had here.

Safety, food, protection.

Sloan. A Den of mages who were kind to them with a vicious streak that could rival his own.

So, fuck it. If Ink wanted to create to his soul’s content, if Dream wanted to follow him around like an ass and idolize him, then let them. They could deal with the consequence for once, without laying all the blame at Nightmare’s feet.

If the multiverse fell down around them, then let them deal with it. So long as it didn’t fuck with his people, this world, fuck the rest of it. No one ever cared before.

Yet, and his soul hurts as he wonders, are they really even his people anymore? His Crew was certainly happier with the Den of mages, healthier even. They were probably more theirs then his at this point, leaving him alone and uncertain how to cope.

He hated not knowing. He felt alone in the worse way, like a leaf caught in the wind and he has no idea how to get back to solid ground. It leaves him uncertain and twisted up, and he’s making stupid, _regrettable_ mistakes. Like, when he was so cruel to Sin. When he had been unnecessarily nasty to Sloan.

It was his own fault.

They weren’t isolating him by any means, and somehow that was worse. It meant they still _cared_ about him, and Nightmare couldn’t figure out _why._

The girls had asked him to come play their silly little games with them, the others came to check in on him, made sure he was okay, and more then once Lilith told him to shower. Basic care when Nightmare was feeling too much like shit to think about doing it himself. When he was so far down the pit of despair that Lola had to remind him to eat, and Edge brought him water quietly.

They still cared, and he didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t, and he knew what he needed to do to make it better. He knew what Sin and Sloan needed from him, to make amends and stop feeling like a free loading bag of crap.

Yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to apologize to Sloan and Sin. He _needed_ to, he wasn’t stupid enough to think he didn’t have to, and he just couldn’t understand why he was having such a hard time with this. _Why_ was saying your sorry, so fucking hard?

He rubbed at his chest as his soul twisted with misery, and its a shame he can’t survive off his own emotions, at least then he wouldn’t have to be out on his own hunting for something to eat. His battered soul felt empty, _hungry_ , after his run in with Error, and what he assumed were hunger pains kept panging through him.

It was easier to think that’s what the feeling was, rather then the gummy, twisting hurt in his chest.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Nightmare tries to bury his misery, tries not to think how Sloan had started to worry about him and how he acted like a coward every time she came near and he _ran_. He fled from her worried brows and twisted lips, and he could see she was going to ask if he was okay.

Nightmare couldn’t have handled it if she had. He couldn’t handle her being nice to him, not him. He could watch her being nice to the others, to Sin, all day long, but never him.

Sin hadn’t tried, hadn’t even come near him, and he’s still undecided if he’s relieved or hurt by that, but Nightmare’s pretty fucking sure he doesn’t get a right to be upset by any of this. This whole thing was _his_ fucking fault, and his own stupidity just made it worse.

So no, he doesn’t get to be hurt by this whole thing, and he’s better to just suffer through it quietly until he can figure his shit out.

Pushing off the wall of the stone structure, Nightmare bites his tongue and looks around, sharp teeth piercing the summoned organ and magic fills his mouth. The pain helps centres him, makes everything feel less terrible in his soul, and his body hurt for a while. It’s a needed change of pace that only serves as a distraction.

It helps him focus on his surroundings and what he needed to get done here. He was here to eat, and he needed to find a human to do it. Ignoring the pang in his soul, empty and twisting in heartbreak, Nightmare finally looks around the park.

It’s devastatingly empty, like all the meat sacks know he’s here and ran, leaving it barren as his soul throbs. He refused to acknowledge that its anything but hunger pains, because he doesn’t get to be upset about this.

Taking a breath, he focuses again. Most of the lights in the tall, sky high lamps have been burnt out when he drained them of their power, plunging the park into darkness. It had exhausted him to do it, used up a lot of his magic to snuff out the light, but it give him space to work in the dark, a better hunting ground sort to speak. Its harder to hunt on his own, but the thought of bothering Sloan to help him made his stomach do weird, horrible things. This was easier, _better_ even.

They were just humans, he could handle hunting humans on his own, he didn’t _need_ her to babysit him.

He didn’t need to be reminded of what was rapidly slipping through his fingers with the longer he waited to apologize. He could do without Sloan’s hurtful gaze burning on the back of his neck, or Sin’s pained one every time Nightmare was near.

Fuck, his brother was going to have a ball with this. The thought is brutally shoved away, pushed down and deep into the recesses of his guts to be ignored.

No, he could do this on his own, and as his soul pangs with hunger Nightmare allows himself to melt into a near by shadow. He slips through the park, hunting for some random mother fucker with darkness in their soul for him to consume.

It was better then sitting at home, _~~and really, when had the compound become home~~_ , miserable all night.

No, this was better. Gave him a bit of distance to get his head on straight and maybe even come up with a game plan on how to fix this. Yeah, that was it. He just needed to _think_. He was good at that, he could logic his way out of this. Surely, he could _logic_ his feelings.

Stepping out of a shadow, Nightmare shakes himself out and loosens his shoulders.

It’s a good plan, a solid plan. He’ll get something to eat, _then_ when he’s feeling a little better, he’ll think a little clearer and come up with something to say. Find a way to get the words to unwedge from his throat and tell Sin he’s sorry. Prove to everyone he’s not an idiot and that everything that anyone ever said about him was wrong.

He wasn’t worthless.

He’d find the words to say. Or better yet, maybe write them down.

Nightmare nearly bangs his skull off a wall at that sudden thought. He doesn’t need to _say_ the words if they get caught in his throat and choke him, he can write it down. He can still tell Sin how sorry he is, that he didn’t mean to hurt his feelings and do it the old fashion way.

A letter of apology, one for Sloan too, and maybe he could explain to them what was wrong with out feeling like he wanted to die. The irony is not lost on him, that _he’s_ planning on writing a letter to someone he’s hurt to say he’s sorry. Him, Nightmare, the self-proclaimed King of Darkness, and he frankly couldn’t give two fucks about it.

No, fuck the multiverse, they didn’t care about him and his reputation could stand to take a hit if it were for Sloan and Sin.

Nightmare feels _better_ with something to do, an actual plan of action, something to make it a little easier to get his feelings across. He’s almost desperate to get home and get started. Maybe if he’s quick, and thoughtful, he could have something ready for breakfast.

He just needs a quick _bite_ , then he can get started on mending what he broke and find a measure of happiness again in this cold, unfeeling world. His own happiness, and not something manufactured that his brother rammed into his soul.

He could do it; he could write them a letter and do something right for a change.

The beam of light that suddenly pierces his belly shocks him more then it hurts. It’s so sudden, and burns so fiercely through his core, he almost doesn’t feel it. He freezes and blinks numbly down at his shredded body and the gaping hole in his belly. Its like something from a horror movie, like something punched a hole through him and all he can do is fucking stare. It’s stupid, he should be moving already, dodging any on coming attacks, but he can’t get his legs to unlock or passed his shock.

Azure magic wells and drips wetly from the wound as the light fades, leaving him nauseous and stunned as his body begins to mend itself; the dark ooze is quick to reconnect the upper and lower half of his body, and once the shock wears off, _fury_ fills him.

His mouth turns to fangs and snarls angrily as he turns, his tentacles going sharp at his back as he readies himself for an attack, when he’s caught in another blast of hot, white light.

He screams, shrieks, as his magic boils and pain makes him see double.

He thinks of Sin, and just how _sorry_ he is that he hurt his feelings, that he hasn’t made amends. He wishes he could see him grin at him once more.

He thinks of Sloan, and wishes he had done better, been nicer to her, had the balls to apologize for being mean. He wishes she would have told him it was alright.

He passes out when the pain becomes too much, and desperately wishes he could have seen them both one more time.

-

Waking up is as much a surprise and as it is a new experience in pain. He was certain he wouldn’t, had been so sure he was dead, that he’s almost caught off guard when he slowly floats back into a fuzzy consciousness. His head feels stuffed full of cotton, making it hard to think of anything beyond just how much he _hurt_.

He moves slow, only opening his socket to a slit to be unnoticed, taking in the overly bright room with a wince. There’s too much concentrated light, too much of it on him to move, leaving him pinned down against the metal table with no shadows to hide in. He tries to look around, look for an escape route, but there are no windows and only a single door in the tight space that’s flooded with bright light.

Exhaustion fills him as the light sucks the energy from his body, leaving him tired and drained. He feels sick and weak as misery fills him, and it makes his head spin. He’s tired, so very, very tired, he’s unusually fatigued and his mouth feels dry. His throat hurts and clicks painfully when he tries to swallow, and his skull aches.

He feels awful, if he’s truthful, and for a moment he lets himself have that moment of honesty. Like someone ran him over with a car or if he were sick from being left in the cold, and there’s a moment of sheer panic that swells in his throat. He pushes it down, barely, and considers where he is.

He’s pinned to a cold, unforgiving table and everything hurts. His joints ache, and even his fucking teeth hurt, like someone gave him a good beating when he was out.

Odd, if this was his brother, Dream doesn’t usually let Cross rough him up if he can’t fight back, but even breathing hurts as if someone had tried to kick in his ribs. He felt _bruised,_ achy and as awareness started to set in, everything _burned._ His joints throbbed and bubbled with wet magic, and he can taste blood on the back of his tongue.

He tried to move his arm, but it stays stuck and agonizing, unmoving with a sharp pain, and he manages to tilt his head towards his pinned limb. He swallows as his socket widens when he finds his arm has been pinned to the table by thick, heavy shards of light, each one piercing his body at his joints.

The shards are thick enough to damage the joints, practically ruining them where they pierce into him. The wider, flat head of the spike flares over his body, making it harder to yank himself free, impossible without doing more damage.

Marrow and magic are wet at his back and he realizes he’s laying in a pool of his own blood. This wasn’t Dream, this wasn’t his style, he didn’t get off on torture, he was more concerned with trying to change him. Would try to get Nightmare to see the error of his ways and change sides. Dream wouldn’t make him bleed like this, wouldn’t hurt him like this for the sake of it. Ink might, if it amused him, Cross too, out of some need for revenge, but Dream wouldn’t let them.

Its only starting to dawn on him that this wasn’t his brother’s work.

Swallowing back his groan, Nightmare tries to flex his hand, his body trembling as pain shoots up his arm from where the thick shards of light pierce his wrist, elbow, and shoulder like a spike through his body. Weakly twisting his head, he finds his other arm in the same state. It’s stretched out and ran through with spikes of hardened light, each one looking like a railroad spike, and drive so carefully into his body to keep him trapped.

There’s more in his lower body, light that has been shoved through his ankles and knees, with two more at his hips that caused azure magic to flood at the entry site, dripping wetly to the table. They caused the gooey magic of his body to boil where it was near the light, burning and keeping him pinned flat to the metal table.

It hurt, by the angel herself, it hurt, and he had forgotten what pain felt like. This sort of all-consuming agony that burned through him, it had been a long time since he’s felt it.

With a shuttering sigh and a swallow of pain, Nightmare tries to move his tentacles and snarls when there’s _nothing_ there to move. He can feel the stumps of what used to be there writhe weakly against the metal at his back, and even that burns when he feels light has been glossed over the cold steel. It burns at his back, feels like acid against the open wounds and the table is slick with the magic he’s spilled already.

The worse of it all is his soul.

Stilling as he looks upwards, he can see it suspended with blue magic, trapping it in a bright ray of light over his chest. Seeing it makes it _hurt_ more, the pain becoming real and not some abstract thing as his soul throbbed unhappily over him, so exposed to the world in a burning shaft of hot light. Something in him pangs seeing it there, to see it trembling in pain and Nightmare wonders if it might be fear that is starting to creep down his spine.

Whatever this is, who ever has done this, has done a good job at incapacitating him, and he isn’t foolish enough to hope that this won’t hurt more then it already does.

Its going to hurt, so very much.

“Oh, your awake.” A soft voice says happily from his blind spot, and Nightmare tries to twist towards the soft, feminine voice that speaks to him. Pain burns through him as his injuries pull and he sheds more magic he can’t afford to lose.

A woman, tall and blonde with bright purple magic in her eye’s steps into his line of sight with a smile. Nightmare shivers as she leans over him, pressing her small hands on either side of his skull, trapping him in a mockery of a lover leaning over him. She’s too close, far too close and tension coils through him.

Her long hair falls around her head and shoulders, straw yellow and soft, and it tickles at his throat as she leans over his prone, helpless, body. Her smile is too bright, her teeth too straight, and she’s taken too keen of an interest in him.

He swallows back any feelings and allows himself to go numb, “You’re a mage.” Its not an accusation, just an observation that makes her smile widen. His voice is calm and steady, despite the pain that grips at his throat.

The grin she gives him is not a kind one, Nightmare wouldn’t say its _cruel_ , per say, but wrong. The same kind of wrongness that Error has when he grins, the kind of wrong that sends a chill through a room but you can’t say why.

It’s the kind of wrongness that Nightmare usually can appreciate.

It’s the kind of wrong that Sloan is better then. _~~She’s so good, so strong. Better then he ever deserved. He never should have tried to hold that light, that softness. He was only ever going to lose it, always born to lose.~~_

It’s different, worse, so much worse from this angle, when he’s the one trapped like a bug, pinned and helpless with no one coming to help him.

He tries to flinch away when she touches his forehead, the tips of her fingers light on his face in a mocking gesture of a lover, “I am.” She says softly, and Nightmare cringes away from her. She’s trying too hard to be soft and whimsical like Sloan, but she isn’t. Its fake and forced, like she’s trying too hard, and it rankles at something inside his chest.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” He hisses at her, his teeth going sharp in a vicious hiss and he snaps at her fingers.

The slap he gets sends him reeling, his face whacking down against the side of the table and his skull hurts with a sharp ring. It hits him full forced when he hadn’t been ready for it, hadn’t moved with the strike to soften the blow like Edge had taught him, and it leaves his head spinning.

“I don’t like cussing.” She told him gently, tracing the outline of her hand on his face, the tips of her fingers burning with light magic and it makes his corporeal body boil where she touches him.

He takes a breath, steadies his soul, “Let me go.”

She laughs softly over him, but its no where near as pretty as Sloan’s, too high pitched, too much a giggle and nothing like Sloan’s bell like laugh. Her breath ghosts over his face and it burns at the wound that she’s seared into him as the tips of her fingers toy at his barred throat, “That’s better dear.”

“Let me go.” He hissed again, making her laugh softly and it irritated him, made his soul rankle in disgust, “I am,” he hesitates, his chest feeling tight, “A friend of the Pandora Den.”

It’s a threat, that according to the mages, and should be more then enough to buy his freedom.

It only makes her laugh over him, and she keeps touching him. He hates it, hates that she’s pretending to be careful with him when they both know what’s coming next, “Oh, I’m well aware.” Dread is suddenly heavy in his soul, and he’s sick with it, “But we’ve been watching you all for some time.”

“That’s creepy as fuck.” He spits up at her with a grin, and it earns him another slap. It rings through his skull as his face snaps the other way against the steel table, and he would prefer this pain to her touching him softly. It was too much like she cared, a mockery of how Sloan would stroke his cheek, and he hated her for that.

He would prefer the pain, would take it for days then any sort of comfort or pleasure she would give him. He grinned up at her as he works his jaw, because yeah, that one hurt.

“It is.” He spits up at her, and it makes blondie smile.

He can taste blood and magic in his teeth, caught in his throat, but it doesn’t stop him from grinning up at her. Gruesome and cruel, with sharp teeth and as threatening as he can be in his current state. 

She isn’t afraid of him, and it irks that she looks down on him with amusement, like she’s trying to figure out how best to take him apart. He knows that’s true, knows that people like her do see him as less than. He knows that he’s nothing to her and it has nothing to do with his physical position and everything to do with how she sees him.

She leans forward, touching his face lightly, gently stroking his cheek, the tips of her fingers light over his stinging magic and he tries to jerk away. He can only go so far with his body trapped, “Stop touching me.”

“Sorry dear.” She doesn’t sound so sorry, and she keeps touching him, “We’re going to be touching you quite a bit for the next little while.”

“Still creepy.” He tells her, his mouth stretching into a wide, bitter smile, that full of blood and he relaxes. He needs to be smart about this, he needs to _think_ his way out of here, “Who the _fuck_ are you?”

She sighs softly over him, her thumb brushing at his jaw, “Swear again, and I’ll rip your tongue out.”

He leans up as much as he can with a grin, “Do it. I dare you, see how _Sloan_ feels about that.”

Her wide purple eyes blink down at him and her brow furrows, “Sloan? Ah! Yes. Pestilence, of the Pandora Den. A general of the _Revolut_ Coven.” She sighs softly over him, her sweet breath gentles over his skull and he _hates_ her, hates that she’s so careful with him. He’d rather her just hurt him so he can feed from the hatred she spills, and he’s startled to realize that she doesn’t hate him. No, she’s full of reverence, believe that she’s _right_.

He’s a bug to her, and Nightmare bares his teeth at her in an angry snarl.

“You know, their Coven leaders changed the name of their Coven when they fully entered the war. A little too on the nose, if you know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes, and Nightmare bites his tongue hard enough to taste magic.

If he keeps her talking, maybe he can find a way out. “They’re our allies, of course, leaders of the _revolution_ ,” and she rolls her eyes again, harder this time, “But that’s easy when you have snarling dogs and killers like Pandora on your side.”

Nightmare hates her, hates how she’s speaking of his mages, hates how she speaks of Sloan, like they’re some how less then. Because of what, that they did the shit jobs in the war? Somehow that makes her better?

Nightmare despises her, hates everything about her with all that he is, and his soul flutters weakly over him. Like a weakened bird that’s full of fury it can’t utilize. His magic barely flares at his hand, and his anger drains away too quickly to launch a proper attack, leaving him weak and sick as his head spins.

“But they never could see beyond their own morals. Could never see how creatures like you are a plague.” She sighs, and sounding sad, as if this actually hurts her as she touches his face carefully, “but its okay dear. I’m here now. And we’re going to help you. We’re going to _save_ you.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” He’s braced for the slap that time, but it still stings when his face smacks into the other side of the table.

“That’s not nice.” She sighs, then smiles again, “What do they call you?”

“What do they call you?” he spits back, and she smiles at him, carefully petting his cheek.

“Of course, my dear, forgive my rudeness. Evian of the Light Shade Den, and _Flurnet_ Coven.” Nightmare grins at her flourish, like she’s expecting him to grovel at her feet, like her name _means_ anything.

“Your named after water?” he asked brightly, his mouth twisted into a smirk, “Is it because your flat and tasteless?”

The sour look she gives him is worth it, and so is the blow he gets for that one. The strike rings in his skull like someone set off a bell in his head, and yeah, that one hurt. Yet, he craves the pain she will give him, clings to it desperately and he doesn’t care how she hurts him, so long as she does.

Only Sloan and Sin could touch him like he mattered and move with gentleness. Only they were allowed to be kind to him, and touch him like this.

He blinks away the stars in his socket to clear his vision, and his soul settles at the familiar pain that he’s starting to remember. “What do they call you my dear?” she asks again, but she slips, and Nightmare can hear the aggravation in her voice. He grins, dark and cold, and viciousness fills him as he latches onto her irritation.

“Fuck you.” He’s expecting a slap, braced for it, he’s not expecting her to grip either side of his skull and slam the back of his head against the table. Pain bursts through him, and blackens his vision, making it swim as nausea twists his belly. He _clings_ to the sharp pain that bounces through his skull, holds onto it for all his worth even when his vision doubles and his soul sinks.

Her hands are gentle on his face again, but her voice is tense as his head feels like someone’s stuffed it full of sand. Its heavy and hard to hear, and he blinks away the blackness to stare up into her arrogant face, “It’s fine my dear. You don’t need to tell me your name, I don’t need you too. It won’t change a thing or what’s going to happen. You see, we are here to help you.”

He’s disoriented by the attack, and his skull throbs in time with his soul. He struggles to understand what she’s talking about, and a thought, cold and brutal slips into his mind.

No one knows where he is.

“We’re going to save your soul dear. Your immortal soul. We are going to cleanse you of this darkness, and free you from this parasite that clings to you.”

His tongue feels thick in his mouth and he’s having a hard time speaking, “Let me go.” His head spins from the blow and he feels sick, “You don’t want to fuck with Pandora.”

Evian tsks softly at him, clicking her tongue and he’s expecting her to hit him again.

She doesn’t.

“Don’t worry my dear. We’re here to help you.” Evian whispers softly, and he can hear her solid believe that what she’s doing is right, he cringes when she brushes a kiss to his forehead.

She reaches past him, brushing his jaw with the tips of her fingers, making Nightmare cringe away from her, and she reaches for his soul. He shivers when she cups it in her hands, and it flutters and revolts, and it cries out for help that never comes for him.

She’s unusually gentle with his soul, more careful with it then the rest of his body, and she holds it so carefully. He trembles when she touches him in his most intimate of places, the core of his being, _hating_ her for it and tries not to think that Sloan would have been as gentle with him. So very careful with him, she would have caressed his soul, held him like he mattered, like she-

_~~Don’t think about Sloan.~~ _

“Don’t worry dear one. We’re here to help.” She tells him again, her voice soft with reverence and he cringes when she brushes his corrupted soul, “Its unfortunate that I am a battle mage by birth.” She tells him with a sigh, “But I’ve seen the light, studied in the power of light magic, and I will save you.”

Nightmare shivers as she summons a long, thin shard of light, not unlike the edge of the blade Lilith can summon, “But being a battle mage means, I have steady hands.” She whispers, sounding in awe of the light she wields, and Nightmare shivers at her tone, has a good idea where she’s going to shove that shard.

He braces for the pain, but nothing can truly prepare him for Evian to carefully press the shard of light into his soul. His soul writhes in pain and he bucks against his bonds, but they don’t give and neither does his body. The magic holds tight, his body stays firm, and Nightmare can barely swallow the agony that burns through him.

It burns and it aches, and if fucking _hurts_ in ways he’s never felt. The corruption in him screams and revolts, trying to retreat back into his soul to protect it. Sickness fills him and his head swims as the magic of his soul boils _._

_~~He deserves this. He deserves it for hurting Sin.~~ _

_~~Fuck, he wishes Sin were here.~~ _

_~~Wait. No. He doesn’t, he doesn’t want Sin here. To suffer along side him.~~ _

Evian summons another shard of light with a gentle hum, “You see my dear, this is all for your own good.” She twirls the shard in her fingers like a coin before she presses it into his soul, perfectly straight and neat beside the first.

Nightmare bucks and writhes, trying to pull his body free of the light that keeps him pinned, but he’s stuck and helpless. He swallows back any cry of pain, any sound of weakness that would let her win, he won’t let her hear his agony.

_~~Helpless, he’s always helpless.~~ _

Evian summons another shard of light, and she smiles at him. He’s sweating, squirming against the table, as much as he can, and he focuses on breathing, slow and careful.

“Pain, it helps purify the soul. These types of treatments work best on the fairy tale folk and mages. Humans too, if they can survive it.” Nightmare tries to focus on what’s she saying and on breathing. Slow and careful, tracking her as she slowly stands and moves around the table to perch on the edge of it.

She is studying his soul, like it’s something interesting in a petri dish, looking at the two perfectly placed shards of light, piercing halfway into his soul and he shivers when she thumbs his inverted heart. He hates how she presses her thumb into the clef of his soul, hates how the smallest spark of pleasure wells at the touch despite the agony that burns through him.

“Breathe deeply dear.” She tells him softly, summoning another shard of light, and it’s so out of line with what’s happening, Nightmare can’t think past the pain in his soul and the way his body trembles.

“What?” he mutters, and she gives him a gentle grin before her face disappears as a black cloth is slapped over his face, practically smothering him.

He doesn’t have time to take a breath, doesn’t have time to think before ice cold water is poured over his face, filling his mouth and the back of his skull, sloshing around inside. He’s grateful that he doesn’t have lungs, nothing fleshy he uses to breathe with, but his magic still needs oxygen, and this is smothering him.

Water fills his mouth, drips down his throat to flood his chest, and panic hits him so hard he stops thinking. Nothing else matters beyond the ice-cold water that suffocates him and how it hurts so much. How it smothers him, and he thinks he’s going to fucking drown.

He struggles with everything he is to free himself. He feels his arm give, feels something tare and wet magic drips down his limb as something pulls free.

He latches onto an arm that holds the cloth that smothers him, his claws taring into the flesh of the arm, but his own arm is broken and useless. He can’t pull it away, and he can’t make it stop.

It doesn’t stop, the Snowdin cold water continues to pour down his throat, it fills his good socket and makes his bones go numb. His body trembles and screams, and he fights with everything he has as water soaks him, chills him and he feels another sharp shard of light being pressed into his soul.

-

Time has lost all meaning, and Nightmare knows he’s going to lose. His body is shutting down, his magic retreating from his body to coil hotly in his soul to protect it. Condensing all his magic, all his _corruption_ , into the core of his being as it tries so hard to keep from falling apart, leaving him vulnerable to Evian’s torture.

It leaves him weak and sore, sick as fuck and hurting in ways he hadn’t been hurt in years. It left his body defenseless; it left his body as it was _before_ the corruption, nothing but a helpless, naked skeleton. Like it had been long before he bit into the corrupted magic of the apple and he turned back as his magic tried to save his soul. His bones are stark against the metal of the table, bruised and sore, and he can taste marrow in his mouth.

The agony got worse without his power to cut it down, to temper it a little, and he had forgotten just what pain felt like. He forgot how it _burned_ his battered body, leaving him breathless and in shock _._

His soul throbs, _screams_ , in agony with two full rings of light shards neatly piercing his soul, and Evian hums softly as she starts a third, circling the perimeter of his soul. Nightmare gasps and chokes on air, struggling to stay conscious, stay awake, and not give in.

They hadn’t been wrong about the pain, and his magic, thick and tar like, retreated into his soul to keep itself safe, exposing his body _, the pearly white_ bones he never thought he would see again. He hates how someone else touches him, runs their hands over the glossy ivory of his body, and despite how he hurts, he cringes when pleasure flutters through him like a dying bird.

No one has ever touched this body gently, or kindly, and he hates them all for this. Hates that they’re touching him at his most vulnerable, hates how it wasn’t Sloan who got to touch him when he was like this. He hates that he wants her to, that he wants her to run her hand along his smooth thigh, and whisper against his skull.

He…pushes the thought down, drowns it like they tried to drown him and focuses on what they’re doing to him now. He concentrates on the _pain._

He chokes back a scream when they press hot coals to his spine, even as he gasps and gags, and more of the magic retreats into is soul.

“See dear? Look how good your doing. See how pretty you are?” Evian whispers, mocking and vile, and he gasps when her fingers brush at his naked, white ribs, and he hates himself. Hates this body, and craves the power that hides in his soul, “You’ll be better, when we return you to Pandora.”

His body trembles and he gives her a crooked, cruel grin, “I’ll kill you.” He swore, promised her, and Evian chuckles softly.

She pats his face softly, almost with affection, “You’ll feel better soon.” She promised and had another member of her Den press another hot coal to his bare spine.

He isn’t able to hold back his scream again, he can’t choke it back and his wail of agony echoes off the walls of his prison. He bucks and struggles, and fights, and he screams, and he _hurts._

He wishes he had had apologized to Sin and Sloan when he had the chance.

He isn’t certain he’ll get the chance now.

-

He doesn’t know how long he’s been there, hours maybe, trapped in that overly bright room being tortured by inquisitor Barbie.

They’re smart, they don’t let him see the others, they always stay in his blind spot, safely hidden behind a wall of anonymity. He shivers and gasps, his head tilted back to keep water from rushing into his mouth as they pour icy water over his ribs and spine in a twisted version of that scene in flash dance. Only, the water won’t stop and it’s so fucking cold.

His neck hurts from keeping his skull pulled back, hyper extending his throat and baring it to his captors to keep water from pouring down his face. It leaves him vulnerable and helpless to their advances. They could touch his throat without consequence, touch _him_ as much as they pleased.

He hates it as cold-water rushes over his prone and exposed body, numbing him and he can’t feel his fingers. He trembles from the cold, had forgotten what it _really_ felt like to be cold, but at least he can no longer feel the burns in his spine or his broken arm. No, they’re numb and heavy, unusable and he can keep breathing so long as he keeps his throat bared to Evian.

She seems to take a sick joy in hurting him, in pulling at every vulnerability she could, and Nightmare was going to kill her when he got free. He clung to that, clung to his anger, and tried to pretend he could feel her blood on his hands, it gave his mind something to focus on other then the torture he endured.

He wishes Sloan were here to hold his hand. He wishes Sin were here to tell him everything was alright.

His body shivers, and part of him wonders if he’s going to die here.

The water cuts off suddenly, and it leaves him trembling from the cold. There’s a bite in the air despite the summer heat, like a cool breeze over an open field of snow. His body is bare, and Evian sighs as she looks at his soul with its three perfect rings of light shards that pierce the core of his very being. Looking _disappointed_ that his soul still throbbed with his true power.

She takes him by the chin as he shivers, his teeth chatter helplessly, and she’s a little rougher in her irritation with him as she tries to purge the power from his body, “How do you feel?” she asks and he grits his teeth.

“Like I’m going to enjoy ripping your head from your shoulders.” He hisses weakly at her, “I’ll tare your innards out, and when I’m done I’ll give you to my battle –“ he chokes on his words as Evian grips at his lower jaw, her fingers digging into the inside of the bone and her nails scraped irritably at the inside of his mandible.

She gives his head a little shake, straining is already sore neck, and she grins down at him. Setting his throbbing and painful soul back into its shaft of light, leaving it to scream in agony and call out to Sloan and Sin, Evian touches his face carefully.

“You know,” she starts, staring down at his white skull with a smirk, touching bare bone where the corruption had retreated. Her fingers probe at his damaged and destroyed right socket, it’s always stuck open and covered over in the heavy goop of his magic, and he cringes back at the horrible feeling of someone touching it. It doesn’t hurt, not anymore, the socket is numb and dead from a fight long ago. The scars look like someone hit a car windshield with a rock, the bone cracked and fragile as all hell, but ultimately unresponsive.

He had taken a blow there, from a villager that shattered his socket, mangled all the bones of his right orbit, blinding him since. It left a hell of a blind spot, a deeply hidden secret that did nothing to serve him now.

“We sometimes have to take more extreme measures to rid the darkness from the souls of our patients.” She gives him a cruel smile as her fingers dip into the empty socket, and Nightmare hisses as pressure builds from inside his skull. It makes his head _ache_ when her nails scrape at the inside of his socket, but he doesn’t have the strength to struggle.

_~~He deserves this. He deserves this, he deserves this, he deserves this. For everything he’s ever done, he deserves this ten-fold.~~ _

_~~He’ll take this as his penance, his retribution for all the wrong he’s ever done.~~ _

“I’m going to eat your fucking soul.” He muttered, his skull lolling tiredly, and he couldn’t keep his working socket open.

His body hurt, his soul was in agony and he didn’t know how many hours of torture he’s endured, as they tried to force the corruption from his soul.

 _Good Luck,_ he thinks. They may have driven it from his body, but his soul is refusing to give up the goods.

Evian sighs, and jams her fucking fingers into his broken socket cruelly, tugging hard on the broken bone and Nightmare worries it might just break. It earns a rough hiss as she yanks his skull around by his socket, and it bobs helplessly on his vertebrae. He’s sore and throbbing with pain, his skull aching in time with his soul.

“More extreme measures.” She says again, calm and smooth, and Nightmare hates her. He hates her so much, and he clings to that anger, clings to how he despises her, and it gives him strength. He clings to it for all he’s worth, and he won’t let Evian see his affection for Sloan and Sin.

He won’t let her see anything soft in him, nothing she could use against him, nothing that she could burn out of him.

He won’t give her that, and he’ll rip himself apart before he gives up anything about his lovers.

Nightmare doesn’t realize what he’s called them, not in the face of his agony and he can’t stand to think how much he misses them. How he was going to write them a letter and apologize, he was going to try to make things right. He couldn’t think about the guilt he carried and how he grieved for the loss of their friendship.

Not right now, he just can’t.

Nightmare tiredly glances up to his rapidly pulsing soul, sees how it aches and burns above him, how it boils in his agony, trapped in the light. He focuses on that instead of his emotions.

Evian nods, and steps back away from Nightmare, giving him a small, bitter grin. She looks irritated and annoyed, but horrifyingly delighted when she smiles, “Try not to swallow your tongue.”

It’s said so mildly that Nightmare doesn’t catch what she says. Doesn’t understand the warning for what it was, that it was such sound advice as two heavy, metal rods are pressed against either side of his skull. They’re cold as ice, making him flinch and he’s not expecting the electricity that rolls through his prone, weakened body.

It’s so unexpected, so sudden, he bucks up against his bonds and screams himself hoarse.

It tingles through his body and he can taste copper at the back of his throat. Something breaks inside of him, something tares, and he sheds magic that froths at his mouth. He can’t breathe, can’t get his limbs to function, and can’t fight back.

He’s helpless, _~~and he swore didn’t he, never, never again,~~_ as electricity rolls through him, and Nightmare shrieks. It’s loud and piercing, and he can’t stop it from happening.

Sweet, sweet darkness takes him, and Nightmare is grateful when he blacks out.

He hopes this is nothing but a bad dream and when he wakes up, he’s going to apologise to Sloan and Sin.

-

It’s the sharp noise of a phone ringing that jerks him awake, weak with exhaustion and Nightmare can barely get his undamaged socket open. He _hurts_ so much. He’s so tired, and so fucking drained that he can barely stay awake.

He twitches at the noise, his cold, bare bones exposed, far too exposed for his liking and the spikes of light that pierce his body throb in time with his soul.

Hovering over his chest, his soul has four, neat rows of hardened light, each one of equal length and size, each one inserted perfectly in the core of his very being.

Next to him, touching him softly, and Nightmare doesn’t have the energy to cringe away, Evian is petting his ribs, frowning at his aggravated, pulsating soul.

He isn’t stupid enough to wish for someone to save him, no one was coming for him and he’s on his own. He’s too tired to hope for rescue, and all he can do is lay limply on an exam table and hope this ends quickly.

Evian sighs, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear, “Why is it still corrupted?” she wonders to herself, her fingers dipping between his ribs. It’s sensitive, an odd mixture of ticklish and pleasure, and Nightmare can barely restrain the twitch of his body. He hates her, so much, hates her for making him feel anything other then pain, and he wishes for Sin.

He wishes for Sloan.

He was going to write them an apology letter.

The phone keeps ringing, and when it stops the silence in the room is deafening. Its almost too quiet, and at least the sound was a distraction. It’s as silent as the dead and Nightmare _hates_ it. 

“I don’t understand. We’ve pushed it from your body, but it clings to your soul.” She sighs, then itches at her chin, “What am I doing wrong?” she sounds so disappointed in herself, and Nightmare hoped she choked on it.

Nightmare could give her a few pointers; the main one being don’t kidnap people and try to force them to change. You can’t force people to change, they just get better at hiding who they are. They just get better at hiding their pain.

Dream never saw when he was upset.

His Crew did.

Sloan and Sin did.

Fuck he misses them.

Evian worries at her lower lip as she stares at his soul. It’s throbbing in agony and Nightmare just _hurts._

He wants to sleep.

He wants to be back in Sloan’s bed, curling in between her and Sin, safe and filled with affection. He wants to be walking up the long, rough trail up to the hot springs and watch the sun rise.

He wants to write them that fucking letter.

A phone is ringing, and Nightmare can hear it even if Evian can’t.

It’s sharp and annoying, and it wakes Nightmare up a little more when all he wants is to sleep.

“We’ve had you for ten hours, what are you clinging to?” Nightmare realizes she isn’t talking to him, and he’s grateful for the break. A little horrified if she thinks that ten hours is a long time, enough time to break someone.

Enough time to _break_ him. He was caught by amateurs, and the pride he still has left in him is irritated at that.

Evian scratches the back of her head, chewing on her inner cheek and Nightmare can hear the cell phone click off as someone answers it. He can hear muffled voices from the other room, and Nightmare tries to wake up a little more to hear them. Tries to count the voices, he thinks he hears four, and they sound upset. Panicked.

He hopes they choke on it.

Evian jerks when the only door to the bright, bright room opens, and a frightened man steps in. Nightmare hurts too much, his vision swims too viciously for him to see anything other then his dark hair but he can _feel_ the panic.

Good, he hopes he’s terrified. Of what, Nightmare doesn’t even _care_ , just so long as its terror that he can feed from.

He can barely feel his soul now, can’t feel anything beyond sheer pain and the light that burns through him. It makes him bleed and he’s hemorrhaging magic.

Evian sighs, “What?” she’s annoyed and hasn’t yet realized her Den mate is radiating fear.

“Um,” the man starts, looking down terrified at the phone, small and square in his hands, looking far too innocent, “You need to take this.”

Heaving a sigh, Evian tries to wave him off, “I’m busy,” and she focuses back on Nightmare’s fragile soul as it clings to life.

The man shakes his head, his eyes wide as he approaches Nightmare, and his soul is desperate to suck back his terror, “Evian, you need to take this.” She’s already huffing, annoyed like a teenager mouthing off to her parents when he says, “They found us.”

Her blue eyes widen, and Nightmare feels a sort of glee when he feels terror race through her soul, “Already?” he nods, and Evian licks her lips, glancing nervously to Nightmare, “Put it on speaker.”

Acting like he’s being sacrificed to a funeral pyre, the man holds out the phone, his hands tremble as he hits the speaker. Nightmare tilts his head weakly towards him, socket half lidded and tired, weak with pain as calm, steady breathing comes over the line.

“Yes?” Nightmare isn’t sure if he’s impressed that Evian’s voice is steady or if he’s just exhausted, but she doesn’t stutter despite how her soul trembles.

There’s another calm, even breath before a smooth voice answers, _“With whom am I speaking?”_

Stilling when he hears _Sloan’s_ voice, Nightmare feels his throat close and his working socket goes wet. He’s too tired to be humiliated by that, too exhausted to care and he clings to her voice.

“It didn’t take you long to find us.” Evian tells her lightly, airily, as if Sloan is _anyone_ to trifle with.

He can hear Sloan’s irritation, _“You’re playing a dangerous game, child.”_ Evian snorts, looking annoyed at being called a child, _“And you have what is mine.”_ Nightmare’s soul warms, and despite the pain, he feels something at being claimed. He wanted to be claimed, to know that someone had his back. That he wasn’t being left here to rot, _“I want him back.”_

He swallows back the sob of relief that he wasn’t being left alone, and despite how calm she sounds, Sloan is furious. 

“Well that’s too bad,” Evian starts, as if Nightmare is a toy they are arguing over, “We aren’t done with –“

Thunder cracks outside the building, wherever he is and over the phone, and when Sloan shrieks, she almost doesn’t sound human, _“GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!”_

The phone goes to static, and Evian flinches, jerking away from the phone as the man who holds it cringes, “I know you’re upset, but this is no reason-“

Thunder cracks again, and the power over head flickers, but even if it goes out, Nightmare is too weak to run, _“GIVE ME BACK MY DEN MATE!”_

Sloan’s snarling words reverberate around the room, making both Evian and the man still, sharing suddenly terrified gazes as a full understanding dawns on them both.

Its the same understanding that is only dawning on Nightmare now, slowly through his exhaustion and pain. He laughs, crazed and bitter, and slipping into shock as he realizes, they have not only stolen and tortured a friend of the Pandora Den, they have stolen and tortured their Den mate.

Evian and her den mate’s face’s pale with the grave knowledge of what they have done, of just _who_ exactly, they’ve done it too. He doesn’t care about the two of them, and he clings to the fact that he’s a Pandora Den mate, that he belongs to them, _~~belongs to Sloan,~~_ and it warms him. It gives him something to cling to, it gives him _hope._

Worse however, is that fucking Red and Rips were right, and he’s never going to hear the end of it.

When Sloan hears Nightmare’s laugh, she pauses and he hears a throaty, sick noise, _“Nights?”_

She sounds hurts, like his name had been torn out of her, and when she called him _Nights,_ something softens inside of him. It gives him something to latch on to, something for him to hope for.

Sloan found him, and she called him _Nights_.

There’s so much he needs to say, so much he needs to tell her. He needs to say he’s sorry, in case he doesn’t get another chance, but he’s not stupid. He knows they’ll come for him, like they came for Sin, all fierce and cruel and covered in blood.

They’ll come for him, and they need information, “Sloan,” his voice creeks when he says her name, and he can hear her barely swallow a sob, “There’s at least four, I’m in a room full of light,” he can see the panicked look in Evian’s eyes as she scrambles for him, “They’re tort-“ a rag is shoved into his mouth and down his throat, choking him off before he can get it all out.

Evian kept her hand firmly over his mouth, keeping his jaws shut even as he struggled weakly and choked on the cloth.

There’s a pause from Sloan as she takes in his words, understands what he’s saying to her, _“You’re torturing him?”_

“You must understand,” Evian sounds desperate, almost like her entire world is unraveling and if Sloan finds them, it will all end. Nightmare doesn’t doubt that it will. “We’re trying to save him.”

There’s a long pause from the other end of the line before Sloan _shrieks_ and the lights over head flicker. It’s a long, horrible noise, torn from her in a moment of anguish and torment, and it makes the other two mages flinch back from the phone.

There’s garbled static over the phone, white noise, and the muffled sound of shuffling. There’s anger, and then there’s fury, and what Nightmare just heard, was fury.

It makes him laugh, muffled behind the soggy rag they shoved down his throat, and he knows they’re all going to die.

A new voice comes over the phone, it’s cold and monotone, and Nightmare isn’t sure he’s ever felt so relieved to hear Lilith, _“Who am I speaking with?”_

The two mages share a look, startled and unnerved, and Nightmare takes delight that Evian swallows back her fear, “Who is this?” he knows how this will end.

Lilith pauses, and Nightmare can practically see her tilt her head, _“My friends call me Lilith.”_

Evian’s shoulders tighten, and she licks her lips, “Lilith, listen,”

 _“I said my friends call me Lilith.”_ She tells them coldly, and even Nightmare shivers. He’s delighted by her voice, _“You can call me Death of Pandora.”_

Nightmare laughs behind the rag as Evian shivers and cringes.

_“Now. You know who I am, who are you?”_

Evian pauses, and licks her lips, “Evian of Light Shade.”

There’s a pause, long and painful, before Lilith laughs. Its cruel and dark, vicious in a way that he hadn’t heard from her before, _“A Light Shade huh? Crazy, fanatical bitches, that’s what you are.”_ Nightmare laughs hard, his throat raw even as Evian’s face crumples into anger, _“No better then the_ _Durhem and Kehtor Covens. So obsessed with purity and ‘goodness’. It’s pathetic.”_

Fury claws at Evian’s soul and Nightmare is quick to feed from it, he’s quick to drain it even as she speaks, “How dare you! Who do you think-“

 _“Did you know I killed your mother?”_ Lilith tells her plainly, as if they were discussing desserts and it makes Nightmare giggle into the rag.

Evian’s eyes went wide, and Nightmare is quick to suck back her anger, “Liar! My mother died in the war. She was a hero, she-“

Lilith laughs, bitter and cold, _“She was a bitch who tried to slaughter my brother’s hell hounds.”_ She told Evian coldly, _“She got her hands on one. Your mother was a coward who went after the pup, too much of a piece of shit to try an adult. Trying to rid the world of ‘darkness’ and ‘evil’. She went after a pup.”_

Evian is still at her words, her eyes watering as Lilith continues, _“I pulled her spine out through her belly.”_ Lilith sighs, sounding amused, as if it were no great task, _“Of course, our Coven leaders couldn’t let the truth out. We were at war, and we needed your Coven’s continued support, and they might have frowned on the death of one of their own.”_

She chuckled again, her voice smooth and monotone, and getting colder, _“We needed your Coven, but not your Den, and we certainly didn’t need her. Your Den is fucked Evian, a disgrace to your Coven, and they didn’t even look into the odd circumstances around her death. And mine,”_ Lilith laughs, and Nightmare can see her in war, cold and brutal, hyper focused to the point of mindlessness in her LV as she attacked, _“My Coven didn’t even scold me for avenging my brother’s hell hound.”_

Evian and her Den mate share a frightened, terrified look, “ _And I will do far worse then that to you, Evian. If you don’t return my Den mate to me.”_ When Lilith laughs, even Nightmare can hear the not so veiled threat, _“And I’m willing to bet you don’t even have your Coven’s support to be in our territory.”_ She tsked at them, like scolding children, _“I bet they’d hand you over to forfeit a war. But, I’ll tell you what. If you return him, we’ll forget this little misunderstanding.”_

Nightmare will not, and he’s going to kill every last one of them.

Evian licks her lips and Nightmare can feel _fear_ leaking from her soul. She’s starting to understand just what she did and who she did it too, “He was unclaimed. You haven’t claimed him.”

It’s a weak argument even to Nightmare’s untrained ears, _“So what? We’re still courting.”_ Lilith tells them smoothly, _“That does not negate the fact, he’s still ours and lots of blended Den’s take time to tell their not mage Den mates what they mean to them.”_

Lilith sighs as if she’s stretching, too calm, too nonchalant, and Nightmare knows a trap when he sees one, _“Let’s be honest here, Evian. We wouldn’t be the first Den to go on a mission to rescue a non mage Den mate whose gotten into trouble. You just had the unfortunate luck of him being ours.”_

“You don’t know where we are.” Evian sounds desperate, and Nightmare is delighted to hear it, “We’re protected by shielding spells, a scrying spell and a witch mirror wouldn’t find us.”

Lilith laughs, _“We found your phone number didn’t we? Sweetie,”_ and Lilith’s voice goes mockingly sweet, _“The thing about shieling yourself from a witch mirror is this, you have to know the ones your hiding from are not as smart as you. We’re better then you, and we will find you.”_

Her voice goes cold and serious, and it’s sharp enough to cut, _“You will return Nightmare to us.”_ He cringes at the use of his name as Evian glances to him, _“You have four hours to comply.”_

Then, the line disconnects, and the soft, monotone buzz hangs in the air between them.

Evian and the man look up, faces ashy and pale, and Nightmare laughs from behind the cloth that chokes him.

“We need to cut him loose.” The man tells her desperately, eyes wide with panic, “They’re going to go to our Coven, and they’ll never have our back, not with this! This is an unsanctioned-“

“Stop panicking!” she hissed over Nightmare, eyes wide and wild, “We have four hours. We can break him in four hours.”

“Evian,” he hissed, “Everyone knows you don’t trust battle mages from outside your Den.” He sounds desperate and afraid, “ _Especially when you steal their Den mates.”_

Shaking her head, desperately latching onto the time they’ve been given, Evian grasps his arm, “Listen to me! No, Lilith has a reputation of being honorable.”

“She killed your mother and hid that fact!” He looks around wildly, desperate eyes falling to Nightmare, “Her Coven helped her hide the murder and disguised it as a death in battle.” 

“Even still, I believe that she will not go back on her word. We have Fate on our side, and the light. We are doing the right thing here.” She looks to Nightmare, awed and desperate, “They will thank us when we save him.”

Nightmare has his doubts, but he shivers at her eyes and the desperation he sees there.

Yet, he clings to hope, clings onto the fact that they knew he was missing, and it was only a matter of time.

Nightmare, just needed to survive.


	32. Waking Up is Hard to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloan wakes up in the morning and realizes that something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Another Friday, another chapter. I hope you've all been having great weeks. This chapter was a bit of a struggle and I had spent most of this week going over it to have it ready for today. I'm super happy with how it turned out, but that also means I took up all the time that I would have spent writing the next chapter, editing this one. So, the next chapter is only about half way done, and may not be done in time for next Friday. So there may or may not be a break next Friday to allow me to catch up and get back on schedule going into November. That being said, there will be a Halloween special/short that will be posted next Saturday, so there will be something next week one way or another. 
> 
> I also have a discord if anyone would like to join. :)
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: Discussion of murder - non graphic, discussion of torture - non graphic, let me know if I have missed anything.

Warm beams of sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, twisting their way between them, playing in the gentle breeze to splash across Sloan’s soft cheek. It makes her bronzed skin glow and her ebony hair shimmer in the morning sun. It was a peaceful morning, warm and safe in her bed where nothing could touch them. She lay in that warm haze of peace, curled next to Sin, and there’s a moment of happiness that she has him. Claimed him in a way as hers, and she his, that he _liked_ her back in a way that had nothing to do with social standings and perceived ranks.

It was a going to be a lovely morning, leading to a hot day as Sloan began to wake in the warmth of the summer light, momentarily safe in her bubble before its popped when a sense of over whelming dread crushes her heart.

Jerking awake, Sloan is suddenly jolted out of sleep by an insistently brutal tugging at her soul, ripping her cruelly out of her warm haze, snapping her wide awake and feeling anxious after a night of unsettling nightmares. Horrible dreams that had come crashing back down around her in crystal clear clarity, waking her magic up with vicious intent as her eyes shimmered azure.

It takes her a moment of laying still and stiff in her soft sheets, breathing, feeling her heart beating hard in her chest as she shoved down the sick twist of old-war nostalgia and calm herself down. Nothing was wrong, no one was hurt, and she was spiteful that her subconscious made her watch Nightmare being water boarded.

She was angry at his reactions to Crow and Sin, angry that he hadn’t apologised when he should have by now, but she still lo- liked him. She didn’t want to see him hurt, didn’t need to see him tortured and quietly cursed her imagination for whipping that up. It was likely because they _were_ fighting, they were upset with him and her subconscious fed from that negative emotion to play tricks on her mind. Making her see the _one_ thing that would make her heart sick and angry, making her see Nightmare being hurt.

Taking a breath, she tries to settle a little more, tries to centre herself even as something akin to dread and the feeling of wrongness continue to fill her, twisting her heart into knots. She couldn’t understand why she was feeling like that, or why she couldn’t seem to shake it. She knows if she had been a battle mage, they would have called it instinct, and would have done roll call by now. Just in case, checking in on each of their Den mates to be sure no one was hurt.

They weren’t at war anymore, and Sloan didn’t want to feed into hysteria.

She chooses to ignore how often those instinct had been right, how often the battle mages knew something was happening before anyone else did, how when they did roll call, the one they were looking for was often missing. Sloan knew that weird battle mage magic when she saw it, how that odd instinct would pinch at other mage types when it was important, and she tries not to think that the heavy dread she’s feeling is something like that. It’s like something thick sitting in her chest, pressing hard against her lungs and it made her feel like she needed to struggle for every breath.

Heaving a sigh, Sloan rubs at her eyes as she sits up in bed, shoving the sheet down to pool at her waist and tries to work the knot out of her neck. She tries not to think about battle mage magic and the early warning system for what it was. The thought that it was accurate was too painful and horrifying, and she tries to shake off the twisted feeling of wrongness that’s soul deep.

Yet, the feeling persists, heavy like a led weight. It’s like she’s about to hear bad news, is anticipating it with a horrible swell of familiarity that she knows something is wrong.

Or, maybe, someone desperately needs her.

Its not an unusual theory, one that she’s desperate to cling to, knowing the alternative is too brutal to consider.

Sin is already awake, sitting up in bed and hadn’t looked at her yet. He’s looking sad and pale, his bones chalky in distress from what was probably another night of nightmares, and it would stand to reason that her soul was calling to his. Responding to his sadness and hurt, desperate to reassure the mate she still had close and safe in her bed.

That didn’t feel right, like something was off, _missing,_ and magic boils under her skin when she realizes the heavy pressure wasn’t from her soul singing to Sin’s. It was along side it, burning her from the core of her soul, agitated and rough like sandpaper. It was something more insistent, demanding action, demanding that something be done as a consequence for an unknown slight.

Helpless to the feeling, Sloan pushes it down and clicks her tongue as she focuses on Sin, watching him carefully with a critical eye. Looking for anything that might hint to the state she’s found herself in.

Like her, he’s sitting up in bed, frowning as he toyed with his lighter, staring blankly at the end of her bed like he’s having trouble processing something. She looks him over, looking for any signs of new injuries and finding none in his bare arms that peek out from his loose black t-shirt. He doesn’t wince when one of her long legs brushes his under the thin blue sheet of their bed, giving no indication why he’s so stressed.

He only looks up and smiles sadly when Sloan nudges him, seeing her unease as easily as he feels it in himself, but happily accepts the soft kiss she brushed to the side of his mouth. It’s one he’s eager to return and Sloan is grateful for it, “Morning love.” She told him gently, and some of the tension leaks out of him.

It earns her a brief grin and Sin leans his long, lanky body into hers, soft and relaxed. He’s still warm from sleep, and Sloan feels something ease inside when he presses into her side, “Morning.” The grin falls and he stares at the end of the bed and his hidden feet.

Sadness and hurt cross his face, a crumpling grief that makes sorrow pang through her heart to see it in his expression and the dread suddenly cuts through any brief relief like a sword to the guts, “You uh. You talk to Nights at all?” 

Hearing Sin call Nightmare by their nickname for him softens some of the anxiety and fear in her soul, if only briefly, and sadness and hurt creep into her expression, “No. He’s been avoiding me.” Her voice is as soft and heartbreaking as his, and it makes Sin sigh.

Dropping his sockets, Sin nods, “Right.” His voice is small and brittle, and when he reaches for Sloan’s hand, she gives it to him instantly, knows he needs something to hang onto right now. He threads his fingers through hers, and he hangs on for all his worth.

He takes a breath, like he’s gearing up to say something upsetting, “I know he’s. I know he has trouble.” He does, Sloan _knows_ he does, but it still doesn’t excuse what he said to Sin, “I know he struggles, but Sloan,” when he looks at her, Sloan feels something like ice drip down the back of her neck. Cold and heavy, like she knows something horrible is about to happen as his expression crumples, “I had the worse dreams last night.”

Sloan’s breathing hitches as she thinks to her own bad dreams and her own uneasy rest as tears start to line his sockets, “I know he fucked up, but I don’t want to fight with Nightmare anymore.” His voice is so small, so fragile that Sloan wonders if it might just shatter.

Something catches in Sloan’s throat, like a lump that nearly chokes her. She doesn’t want to fight with him anymore either, especially after those dreams, but its not that, that sends cold dread through her, all the way to her soul, “What kind of bad dreams?” her voice is small and frail, like any pressure will cause her to shatter.

Sin shrugs and tries to wipe at his face with his other hand. Its unhelpful, bones don’t make for great absorption as he smears the tears further down his cheeks, and he shivers in distress, “I dreamt that someone took him.” Something cold goes down Sloan’s spine, a sort of dread that can’t ever truly be explained, “I dreamt that they hurt him. Tortured him. They,” And he motions helplessly at his face with his hand as the tears slip down his cheek and Sloan feels her soul break, “I dreamt that they water boarded him. That they pressed hot coals to his spine.”

Sloan feels her eyes go glossy and wet, “They have him trapped in a room filled with light and using blue magic to keep his soul contained.” She told him quietly, eyes wide with panic and grief as her throat goes thick. Sin freezes next to her, his body going so still she’s afraid he will shatter, and she keeps talking, “They’re shoving light into his soul while they have him bound, and they electrocuted him.”

“How do you know that?” Sin asked her too quietly, voice too brittle. He stares at her wide eyed, as his hands began to shake, trembling in hers as panic started to set in.

Sloan knows why, and suddenly that weird almost battle mage instinct that she shouldn’t have is itching at the back of her mind. She knows that Den magic is a weird, and very misunderstood brand of magic. She knows that when a Den mate is in danger, that magic will act in quirky, glitchy ways to bring attention to the one suffering. She knows Den magic acting out is often misdiagnosed as battle mage instinct. Two different and distinct brands of magic that will often bubble to the surface with similar feelings but have different purposes.

Sloan knows that a lot of the knowledge about Den magic was lost to the war, but she _knows_ it did more then bond families together. It did more then shore up connections and allowed their souls to sing to each other.

It would call out in times of distress, scream for help if one of their own were in trouble and unable to ask for it themselves. It would call for help until somebody came, if one of theirs were hurt or needed the Den. It would send this message in any way possible, and Den magic at work was often confused for signs and miracles and simply bad dreams.

Sloan and Sin shared the same dream, saw the exact same torture, and Sloan feels her throat thicken and her gorge rise. Tears she can’t hold back flood her eyes when she thinks about it, thinks about what she saw and sees panic growing in Sin’s sockets.

Azure magic fills her eyes behind her unshed tears and she’s urging Sin out of bed, “We have to hurry.” Her voice is a brittle gasp of pain, but she doesn’t hesitate.

Sin doesn’t argue, not with a mage who’s suddenly in tears and he doesn’t bother dressing as he rushes out of the room behind her. Dread fills his soul, and he knows Nightmare’s in trouble. He doesn’t need to understand how she knows, or why they had those horrific dreams, only that they did and that meant something. He needed to trust Sloan on this, and Sin can only hope it’s not too late.

-

Bursting so quickly into the dining room in socked feet, Sloan nearly tripped in her rush to get to her Den. She’s nearly vibrating in sheer panic when Nightmare’s bed was empty, and she clung to some misguided hope that he was at the breakfast table.

The last plates of breakfast are only just being placed by Ryder and Papyrus, both looking up at her with furrowed brows as she nearly drifts into the room. Her hand is still tightly fisted around Sin’s in a desperate grip, as if she’s afraid that someone would steal him away. She doesn’t think that anyone would blame her for her sudden need to keep him close, not when she’s so raw with fear. Not with the nightmares they’ve both had and what they hinted at.

Sloan silently mourns that she’s about to ruin their favorite meal of the day, if only for a second, as the delicious smell of hearty French toast with thick maple syrup is already wafting her way. She feels the guilt to that adding to her already heavy load of it, knowing no one was going to enjoy their meal, and already she can taste the ashy defeat at the back of her tongue.

Already Gore is squeezing a healthy dose of the thick maple syrup over his breakfast, looking delighted despite the terror that must surely be painting her face. Dread fills Sloan in a new, invigorating way when she knows that Nightmare isn’t getting breakfast, not if her dream was right.

They all look so happy, content, despite how they are starting to look up at her one by one with furrowed brows of confusion, and Sloan knows she’s going to shatter this happy moment with her next, desperate words. She can’t find it in her to care too much as she scans the table for him, looking for her oozy favorite, just in case, and if he was here, she was going to squeeze the hell out of him. She would be grateful to hear his squawk of irritation and hiss of annoyance as he tried to swat her hands away.

He would be filled with confusion so thick it would cause his magic to ripple, and Sloan would give anything for that moment, any sacrifice, any pound of flesh for him to be safe at home.

Guilt has long since started to rise in her throat as her hands tremble when she can’t find him, and dread is like a heavy ball of led in her belly. He’s not here, looking sad and hurt among the others, and next to her, Sin makes a small, wounded noise.

“Where’s Nightmare?” her voice is strong over the chatter of breakfast, and her entire Den just _stops_ to really look at her and the panic in her voice.

Heads swivel as shoulders shrug, and only now, concern is bleeding into their expressions as they realize that one of their own is missing. Realizing that Nightmare is missing, and no one fucking noticed. Guilt chokes her, because she should have noticed first and foremost.

He should have been tucked away, safe and sound, in her bed last night, not out doing whatever led him to this. He should have been asleep between her and Sin, breathing deep and soft as he clung to them both, they should have done _something_ to stop this.

Lilith perks up, brows furrowed, “He in his room? He hasn’t been coming down on time for breakfast for a few days?”

The hope in her tone is fragile and Sloan swallows down her own desolation, “He’s not there.” Her voice cracks as her throat goes thick, and the others straighten at the pain in her voice.

“He’s not in his room.” Sin mutters quietly, shoulders hunched up around his skull, squeezing Sloan’s hand as fear is only truly starting to set in and he presses into Sloan’s side, “We can’t find him.”

The battle mages coil tighter, their shoulders rolling back like dogs called to heel. Lilith’s voice is cold and clipped in the face of her sisters upset and Nightmare’s disappearance, “When was the last time anyone saw him?”

Faces scrunch up in thought, and Sin’s crumbles a little, leaning into Sloan a little heavier as everyone’s heads shake.

“Last night.” Red tells them, eye lights hot and focused as he strains to think, “Think it was ‘bout eight thirty. Maybe closer t’ nine? He said he was go’n out.”

“On his own?” Sin asked, and he clears his throat when it cracks a little, making Sloan wince.

Red nods, “Yeah.” He gives them both a shrewd look, piercing and focused as he scratches his chin, like he suspects more then they’re letting on, “Why?”

Sloan takes a breath and wipes at her face with her wrist. She hates that it comes away wet, and she feels _weak_ with emotions when Nightmare needs her to pull it all together, “Sin and I shared a dream about him last night.” The battle mages freeze, and Lola stops breathing, “We dreamt that Nightmare was taken by someone, and they were hurting him.”

The mages all curse, and Lilith is pulling out her phone, punching in Nightmare’s number harder then necessary. Sloan feels her heart squeeze. They had gotten the Crew cell phones not long after Sin was taken, a necessary step to ensure they could always call for help if they needed to, just in case. It hadn’t felt necessary to the Crew at the time, but the girls had been delighted in picking out phones for each of them.

Sloan swallows her guilt, and thinks the phones were a good investment.

The monsters all blink at them, staring at Lilith as much as her, and her sisters intense gaze is laser focused on the tabletop. So harsh Sloan would be forgiven to think the thing would catch fire with how hard she was staring at it, probably trying to will Nightmare to pick up his phone.

“So?” Red asks slowly, glancing around the tense room with a frown, not understanding the sudden tension from the mages, but he feels it coiling up his spine in response to theirs, “You’ve been rowing for days now. Could just be bad dreams.”

He glances to Lilith with hard crimson eye lights when she curses when his phone clicks to his voice mail. She’s quick to hang up before his snarky message fully finished and dials his number again. Red frowns as he watches her, sees the growing impatience, and feels something cold walk up his spine.

Sloan shakes her head no with desperation. She knows that Red doesn’t understand, isn’t a mage and could have a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept of Den magic, but right now, she needs him to _try_ , “It’s a mage thing. A warning system when someone,” she stalls, her voice cracks and she stumbles before she’s able to rally her courage, “When someone we care about needs us, when it’s an emergency, Den magic will find anyway to us. Its rudimentary, uncontrollable.” She pauses, and heartache makes her expression twist, “Sin and I had the exact same dream.”

Sin starts shaking next to her, his knees going weak as his eye lights dilate to pin pricks and Sloan forces him into the nearest chair, “They were torturing him.” He tells them weakly, sounding numb and distant as his eye lights go dim in sheer horror.

Around the room the others coil tighter, faces going ashy with soul deep shock. Lilith is the only one who looks up, pale faced and angry, “He’s not picking up.” Her phone creeks in her hand under the strain of her grip, but Sloan doesn’t have it in her to tell her sister to relax. Not when she’s about ready to step off the cliff and plunge helplessly into her own LV and hurt.

Sloan isn’t surprised when he doesn’t answer, they all know what’s really happening and the call was nothing more then a reassurance. Its barely a double check, to confirm what they know, and Sloan can’t stop her legs from turning to jelly, and she collapses into the chair next to Sin. Her hands shake as one of hers reclaims one of his, desperate to touch, and her voice wobbles as she gently places a pocket mirror on the table, “Scrying spell is coming up blank too.” Her voice was broken at the edges, filled with heartbreak and fear, and she can’t bare to look at the witch mirror. She can’t have that come up empty too, and she’s too panicked to think clearly.

She’s too upset and weighed down with self doubt and guilt to think around the shield they’ve put up around Nightmare. It should be _easy,_ she was an experienced spell caster, knew how to use a witch mirror well, and was pretty fucking smart. Yet, all she can think of was that this was her fault. She was cruel to him when he was struggling, she should have known better, she should have reached out to him.

She should have fucking made sure he was okay, made sure he had enough to eat and not leave him alone. This was her fault, and she let him down, no matter how anyone looked at it. This was her world, and she had promised to keep him safe, only for him to get hurt at the very first sign of rough waters.

Lilith shakes her head, her expression twisting into something fierce and determined, her eyes shimmering in crimson magic as she shoves her phone across the table towards Sloan and grabs the mirror, “Keep calling him. ” her voice is hard and clipped, leaving no room for arguments from anyone.

Sloan can only do what she’s been asked, numb and shaky, she dials Nightmare’s number, her heart sinking each time it goes to voice mail. She’s almost in a daze as she watches helplessly as Lilith opens the witch mirror, its black glass polished to a fine reflection, shimmers back at her.

Everyone around them is quiet and still, even Gore has stopped eating to watch her, leaning forward in anticipation. Fear is thick in the room as the crimson magic of determination shimmers over Lilith’s skin as it’s called forth, and her eyes darken to the shade of blood as she dips into war time magic.

Taking a breath, Lilith lets it out slowly, breathing onto the black glass, and her magic ghosts over the reflective surface. The mirror reacts to her, shimmering in crimson, waking to her call as it drains her of her magic, “Has Nightmare been taken?” she askes the mirror, her power feeding into it, allowing it to pull out the answers they desperately needed, and it burns blood red in her hands.

Lilith swallows at words only she can see, “It says yes.”

Sloan thinks her soul will shatter, and she chokes back an angry sob. Its one thing to know, but its another to _know._

“Okay.” Lilith takes another breath, her eyes focused on the witch mirror, determined to find him and she tunes everything else out, “Is he alive?” she asks it, and Sloan feels something in her soul give when Lilith’s shoulders loosen when she nods, “It says yes.”

Sin isn’t able to hold back a broken sound, weak and wet as he cringes downward, his sockets jammed shut as he clings to Sloan’s hand. Tears swim in her eyes and all she can do is hold him, her heart’s heavy with the fact they just need to find Nightmare now.

Red huffed, watched at magic shimmered over Lilith and the mirror, pulsing in time with her soul to which it has tied itself, “What the fuck is a witch mirror?”

Sloan can’t answer him, can’t get the words passed the clog in her throat.

“Basically,” She’s never been so grateful for her brother as Felix mutters softly, eyes going yellow as he grits his teeth, “It’s a super charged scrying spell.” The black glass of the mirror reflected into Lilith’s focused eyes and Sloan doubts she can hear any of them, “It’s syphoning power right from Lilith’s soul, doesn’t matter what kind of mage who uses it, we all can because it’s a _tool_. Its supposed to make it easy for non-spell casters to utilize scrying spells, but only spell casters can make them. And this one? It’s the best one Sloan has ever made.”

“Why the fuck is it called a witch mirror?” Red asks roughly, watches as the magic pulses through the black glass from Lilith, feels uncomfortable as it drains soul magic from her, and he rubs at his sternum.

“Because you need the heart of a mage to make one. Fresher the better, still beating works best.” Felix told him, and he and Sans are both slow to give him a horrified look. Felix is quick to add brightly, “I got her the heart she needed.”

“Mages are fucked.” Red mutters, and Sans gives him a brief, amused grin before he looks back to his mate. 

Sloan ignores them, she can’t afford the distraction and allows a brief swell of relief to wash over her when she hears Nightmare is alive. Sloan squeezes Sin’s hand desperate to remind herself he’s okay, he’s right next to her where he should be.

He clings back to her just as tightly, as he slowly bows over the table in grief and horror that nearly choke him. His free arm comes up to the wooden surface so he can bury his face into the crook of his elbow to hide his bitter soul ache, “Is he hurt?” Sin asks weakly, like he’s afraid to know the truth that he already knows in his soul. To ask it would to no longer be able to deny that it was real.

Lilith takes a breath, her voice steady as she asks, and the tightness returns to her face, “Yeah, he is.” She tells them in a small, monotone voice.

There’s a hiss that goes around the table, a sort of anger that you could taste at the back of your throat. Its bitter, almost like bile and near impossible to swallow back. Sloan and Sin’s nightmare had another layer of truth added to them, and something caves in Sloan’s chest with a hiccupping sob.

Lilith buries her own grief, buries her emotion and she clings to her fury, “Where is he?”

She sits still, pouring magic into the mirror, and her face scrunches with untold anger, “Nothing’s coming up.” She tells them coldly, eyes still focused on the mirror likes she’s afraid to break eye contact with a timid animal, “Who ever has him has a block around him, the mirror can’t show me where he is.” Her face goes sour, like she bit into a lemon and her eyes narrow on the glass.

Sloan makes another wet noise that draws Lilith’s steel gaze, and Sin trembles next to her. Sloan moves in close to her mate, curls into his side and through her unshed tears, she tries to give Lilith a reassuring smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Lilith mirrors it briefly, sad and wounded before the iron returns and she looks back to the mirror, “We are smarter then these fucks.” She hisses, filled with righteous determination, and stares at the mirror, “Who took him?”

Sloan squeezes Sin’s hand hard, and the room holds their collective breath in bitter anticipation. They curse when Lilith shakes her head no, “Nothing. They’ve protected themselves.”

“Smart.” Felix hisses and leans back angrily in his chair, his fingers tapping irritably on the polished surface. He doesn’t look for him, but Felix blindly reaches for Wine’s hand. Squeezing his thin fingers when he finds them, holding Wine’s hand tightly like he’s half expecting someone to come steal him away. Sloan tries not to feel her soul pulse with hurt, pulse with something dark as her soul curdles that Felix still has Wine.

She glances to Sin, sees how miserable he looks as he leans into the table, sees the tears that slip silently down his face, and the guilt that’s only now starting to show. Swallowing, she holds his hand tighter, and presses the warm line of her lithe body against his cool one. They were going to find him, they would. She believed they would, there simply was no other options that she would even entertain.

Lilith licks her teeth and bites at the tip of her tongue, “Okay. Okay you assholes, what didn’t you protect?” her eyes flick around the table as if that will give her the answers she needs, and when blood red orbs land on her phone, she smirks, “Do they have a phone number?”

Lilith’s smirk becomes something viciously dark as numbers only she can see flicker over the black glass of the witch mirror, and her soul bursts with sheer, unrestrained joy. It gives Sloan hope to see that cruel joy in Lilith’s expression, gives her something to cling to, “Sloan, dial this number.” Lilith told her in her cool, monotone voice.

Nodding, frantic for a clue, Sloan refuses to allow her fingers to tremble and she still clings to Sin’s hand, her soul heavy as she punches in the numbers that Lilith gave her.

The room goes quiet again with bitter hope, everyone leaning forward in anticipation and it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room. Everyone stops breathing as Sloan hits the dial button and puts the phone to her ear.

She swallows hard and the tears finally fall, heavy and with dread as the phone rings.

And it rings.

And it rings.

Then it stops.

A sob wells in her chest and disappointment hits her like a brick wall. Its brutal and cold, and she can’t put into words how crushed her soul feels. Sin pushes himself up to tuck her under his arm, pulling her in tight with his own bitter sob of regret. The others watch in varying degrees of hurt and horror as Sloan drops the phone back to the table so she can press a delicate hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her bitter disappointment.

Sin does his best to sooth her despite his own grief, his own guilt and he holds her tightly as tension coils through everyone else. Sloan can’t help it, the dead end of the phone breaks her momentarily, and she buries her face into Sin’s sternum and sobs bitterly. The guilt causes a wedge of emotion in her throat, and Sin is helpless to make it better. Not when he carries the same devastation, the same guilt, and all he can do is twist in his chair and wrap his arms around her tightly. His thin arms go around her shoulder and a hand cupping the back of her head to gently pet at her thick, curly hair helplessly.

Its all he can do as his own soul feels like it’s going to shatter with his own sorrow and guilt.

Everyone else looks down, bodies tense with helpless fury and their souls feel heavy as they flood with dread. Lilith takes a breath, refuses to bend, and calmly looks back to the mirror, “Another number, please.”

Pushing herself so gently away from Sin, that she just might break, Sloan reaches for the phone with shaking hands and a choking sob. Felix doesn’t hesitate to reach out for his sister, his hand finding her elbow and he gives her a shallow, terrified smile, “Hey Sloan? You want me to?”

She does, she desperately can’t be disappointed again, can’t bare to feel her soul throb in agony. Yet, she shakes her head no, this is her cross to bear and she will not put her siblings into the firing squad for her own comfort. Clearing her throat to steady herself, Sloan presses in tight to Sin, desperate to feel him at her side, “No, I’ve got it.”

Felix nodded, understanding in a way only a battle mage could as he reached out to grasp his sister’s shoulder, squeezing tight in silent support. Right there with her, her brother was always there, and she takes strength from that. That she’s not alone.

She glances to Wine, sees him hold Felix’s hand tightly, and she knows none of them are alone anymore, not like they were, and Sloan dials the numbers Lilith quietly reads out. The horror is back, the tension and fear as the line connects.

The phone rings.

And it rings.

And it rings.

Sloan is sure she has never felt such sweet relief when the phone clicks in connection and a hesitant male voice, rough with uncertainty answers, “ _Hello?”_

Sloan straightens as fury hits her, broils in her belly to burn out any self doubt or guilt, and her eyes flood black, “Where is he?” she hisses, cold as ice and acidic. Caustic enough to burn despite the tears that still stain her pretty face.

Sin hangs onto her desperately at her suddenly cold words, burying his face into her shoulder as he clings to her. Even in her rage, even with tears streaming down her face, he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever met, and despite his own remorse, he has faith in Sloan. He knows that she’ll bring Nightmare home to them, to him and maybe then he can apologise. She’ll give him the chance to help fix what was broken, and he believes they’ll see Nightmare again.

He wouldn’t have held such a stead fast believe in anyone else, no one but Sloan and her Den of vicious monsters and mages. 

The voice pauses, and a trembling breath shutters out into her ear, _“What. What do you mean?”_

Fury burns through Sloan, it kills anything soft in her soul, and slows her tears as she leans into her vice, “You took what’s mine.” Her voice going cold with rage, and the need for vengeance boils her alive, “I want him back.”

Sin’s barely muffled whine into her shoulder only adds to her anger, and her arm curls around him tighter, like she’s trying to protect him from something cruel. A reality that she knows to be true, and someone very cruel had what was hers. Nightmare isn’t the only one hurting, isn’t the only one carrying the guilt of this, the shame, and she’s going to make it right.

The breath on the other end trembles with fear, _“Just. Just a second.”_

Fear and desolation melt away, and nothing but anger fills her. It’s like the war in a horrible sentimental kind of way and she becomes cold inside, dead. Darkness fills her, and Sloan _calms_.

Her breathing smooths out, it goes easy and gentle as her sobs die down, hiding how the fury was bubbling just under her skin. Sloan licks her teeth, and shores herself up with her anger, she doesn’t have time to be sad or hurt or feel guilty. Not right now, later, when Nightmare is tucked back into her bed, she can come apart then.

Until then, someone was going to bleed for this.

_“Yes?”_ a cool, calm voice comes over the phone, and something rankles inside of Sloan, something claws at her soul and she only just suppresses the snarl.

Sloan takes a breath before she answers, squeezing Sin hard, “With whom am I speaking?” she wants to know the name of the ass hole whose tongue she is going to tear out.

There’s another pause from the other end of the phone, and something ripples through Sloan’s chest. Another level of fury and hatred, _“It didn’t take you long to find us.”_

The tone is light and airy, and it dawns on Sloan that they have no idea the danger they are courting. She glances up, eyes wall to wall black to see Lilith whispering something to Felix, the room so quiet that Sloan can hear her rough voice like sandpaper in his ear.

Felix is nodding along with whatever Lilith is saying, and when she’s done, he brushed his lips across Wine’s knuckles and is gone in a flash. No one else says a thing, still and tense, all eyes on her, but Sloan doesn’t faulter.

Sloan takes another breath to calm herself, sitting up a little straighter, “You’re playing a dangerous game, child.” She hears a cheeky, irritated snort on the other end of the line that infuriates her, “And you have what is mine.” Sin makes an aborted noise of pain, muffled as he turns further into her shoulder, and Sloan is quick to take his weight. His hurt only adding to the funeral pyre that will be this girl’s undoing, “I want him back.”

Felix is back quicker then she expected, but then, since the Crew landed in their laps, they had been prepared for an attack so maybe Sloan shouldn’t be as surprised. He drops one of the two heavy looking packs near Lilith, and already they are summoning armor and loading weaponry.

Felix has his 12 gauge in his lap and between shoving his breakfast into his mouth to shore up his magic and loading it, Sloan doesn’t have much hope for these fools.

She pauses, lifting a brow at Lilith as she quietly loads her M32 grenade launcher, and can’t remember the last time Lilith used it. The battle with Flowey, maybe, in their desperate bid to save Snowdin before Lilith had her heart crushed to find Sans not there.

Sloan shakes the memories away. Nightmare needs her to focus, if they have any hope of his survival.

_“Well that’s too bad,”_ the voice on the other end of the line snipes like a child, and Sloan can feel a little of her control slipping. Thick, volatile, uncontrolled magic spills from her like an open wound and leaks around her like a dark cloud. The others, monster and mage alike, freeze, _“We aren’t done with-“_

Her control slips and despite the bright, _sunny_ morning, thunder cracks and lightning splits the sky. Everyone flinches downward as her magic snaps like she was an uncontrolled teen, but Sloan can’t see passed her own anger when she shrieks, “GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!”

She’s angry, too angry and all she can see is _red._

_“I know your upset,”_ Sloan almost laughs with bitter hysteria, and her LV shakes its chains off a little more, _“But this is no reason-“_

Sloan snaps. Her words are snarling and come out without thought in crystal clear clarity, “GIVE ME BACK MY DEN MATE!”

The room freezes and everyone just stops and stares, mouths slightly agape but Sloan can’t bring herself to care. Not right now, not with Nightmare’s life in the balance, not when he’s been _hurt_ so badly. She doesn’t care that she has just blurted out the secret they’ve been hiding since the Crew landed here, she doesn’t care that they know the truth, she just wants Nightmare back.

The girl on the other end of the line has nothing to say. She’s stopped breathing and stunned into silence as the weight of Sloan’s words come crashing down on her and everyone else in the kitchen. The truth is out there now, and from the table Ripper laughs.

“I fucking knew it.” He mutters but he’s ignored as the weight of it is fully understood and the monsters around the room shift uncomfortably.

They had taken a member of the Pandora Den, a vicious war time Den that had stubbornly clung to the old ways and _hurt_ him. A member, who she had just laid claimed to as theirs publicly, and the promise of blood shed is at hand.

Laughter, bitter and crazed laughter, bubbles from someone on the other end of the line. Its thin with pain, choked and it sounds wet, like blood in caught in his throat, but Sloan would know his voice from anywhere, “Nights?”

His name is torn from her throat, laced with all the pain and worry and sheer _terror_ that is bleeding from her soul. Her hands almost feel numb as they curl tighter around the phone, and Sin slowly lifts his head to stare at her in horror.

There’s so much she needs to tell him, to reassure him they were coming for him. She wants to tell him she’s sorry for leaving him on his own, she’s sorry for not trying to talk to him, and that she wants him back. She wants to tell him its okay, she’s coming, _they’re_ coming. His Den will be there soon, he just needs to keep breathing.

Nightmare starts talking first.

_“Sloan,”_ he sounds so weak, so tired and she tries not to think of what she saw in her dreams, the awful, _horrendous_ things she saw being done to him. His voice creeks, _breaks,_ when he says her name, _“There’s at least four, I’m in a room full of light.”_ He sounds desperate to get the information to her, and her soul caves inward at his panic, and she wants to tell him it’s okay, she’s coming, _“They’re tort-“_ he suddenly cuts off, going silent on the other end, and Sloan freezes.

Her dreams come back ten-fold with horrific clarity. She remembers the things she saw in that weirdness that dreams usually were saturated in, the terrible things they did to his body while they had him pinned and helpless. Spread out on an exam table like he was on some kind of sick display, and his words only verify what she already knows. “You’re torturing him?”

A desperate voice comes back over the phone, high and panicked, _“You must understand, we’re trying to save him.”_

Something in Sloan snaps, something gave and another boom of thunder echoes around the room to make the windows shutter with its power and over the phone she can hear it - _he must not be far-_ before Sloan shrieks. Magic flairs from her like she’s untrained, and she can’t contain her magic.

The lights over head flicker as the power in Ebott is affected by her sudden influx of volatile magic and rage, giving out when she screams. It’s an inhuman sound, the battle cry of a furious mage that’s on the brink of destruction. Everyone in the room flinches with the noise that’s torn out of her, _ripped_ from her as she trembles, and Sin holds her for all he’s worth. His head bows low, pressing into her shoulder and the wet noise torn from him is lost to the sound of anger.

Lilith is the fastest of them, tracing from across the table, dropping the M32 and leaving the witch mirror to pry the phone from Sloan’s trembling hands. She crumples into Sin with a wet, angry noise and Lilith steps away from them, taking over when her sister has nothing left to give.

Felix tracks her as she steps back and pressing into Sloan’s other side. There, always there for his sister, if she needed him.

Sloan trembles in grief and rage from between he and Sin, and watches Lilith through the tears as she takes a breath and puts the phone on speaker, “Who am I speaking with?”

There’s another long pause and the sound of a deep breath being taken, _“Who is this?”_

Lilith smirks at the fear in her voice, and she tilts her head, “My friends call me Lilith.” She told the voice mildly, glancing to her brothers and sisters with the confidence of an old battle mage.

_“Lilith, listen,”_ The voice starts, desperate for an ally, for someone to _understand._

Sloan knows in her heart of hearts, Lilith will not understand. “I said my friends call me Lilith.” She told the voice coldly, and Sloan barely swallows back a sob when she thinks of Nightmare, alone and hurt, surrounded by the enemy. Looking to her ferocious sister, she wonders if this was how Lilith felt when Chara had Sans, “You can call me Death of Pandora.”

Its her war time title, everyone knows it, and Lilith knows what it will mean as black anger floods her eyes, “Now. You know who I am, who are you?”

Sloan shivers in Sin’s arms, feels him trembling around her as wetness soaks into her shoulder from where he’s buried his face into her. She knows if it had been her in their place, she would have cut and run a long time ago. She wouldn’t trifle with an angry battle mage protecting a claimed Den mate.

The voice takes a breath, _“Evian of Light Shade.”_

There’s a pause and Lilith raise’s a brow at the phone. Next to Sloan, stiff as his mouth falling open, Felix mouths _Oh fuck_ to his sisters, _you killed her mom!_

Lilith nods, and smirks coldly into the phone as she laughs cruelly, a glimpse of who she was in the war, “A Light Shade huh? Crazy, fanatical bitches, that’s what you are.” Someone brutal and unrelenting, a killer to her core.

There’s a choked noise from the other end of the phone from Evian, insulted even from where Lilith could hear, “No better then the Durhem and the Kehtor Covens. So obsessed with purity and ‘goodness’. It’s pathetic.” She hissed into the phone.

There’s an angry noise on the other end of the line, and Lilith grins when Evian doesn’t sound as confident, _“How dare you! Who do you think-“_

Lilith grins, its vicious and sharp enough to cut, “Did you know I killed your mother?” its so plainly said that even Felix winces a little at it, and the others in the room coil again with growing tension. A statement like that is grounds for war.

_“Liar!”_ Evian hisses, angry and upset, _“My mother died in the war. She was a hero, she-“_

Lilith lets her laugh slip, makes sure its as bitter as the rest of her feel, and she makes sure her tone is acidic, “She was a bitch who tried to slaughter my brother’s hell hounds.” The truth is put out there coldly, and it’s without mercy, “She got her hands on one. Your mother was a coward who went after the pup, too much a piece of shit to try an adult. Trying to rid the world of ‘darkness’ and ‘evil’. She went after a pup.”

Lilith pauses, lets that sink in before she goes for the throat, and around her, everyone is still, “I pulled her spine out through her belly.” She lets just enough amusement into her tone to get her point across. To ensure that Evian understood just _who_ she was fucking with.

The young mages never did seem to believe the stories about them, “Of course, our Coven leaders couldn’t let the truth out. We were at war, and we needed your Covens continued support, and they might have frowned on the death of one of their own.”

Wasn’t that the truth of it. Once their Coven leaders learned of the death of Felix’s hell hound, there was only one outcome that would satisfy a mentally unstable battle mage at war, that came from a notoriously vicious Den.

It had to look like a mistake, of course, and Lilith had ensured it was just that, “We needed your Coven, but not your Den, and we certainly didn’t need her. Your Den is fucked Evian, a disgrace to your Coven, and they didn’t even look into the odd circumstances around her death.”

Lilith chuckles again, all for show, all to make them uncomfortable. She doesn’t look to Frisk or the other girls to see their own fear, couldn’t be what her sister needed her to be and what Nightmare needed of her in that moment, “And mine? My Coven didn’t even scold me for avenging my brother’s hell hound.”

Taking a breath, Lilith lets that sink in, “I will do far worse then that to you Evian.” It’s a promise, a _vow_ , “If you don’t return my Den mate to me.” She pauses and finally glances around the room to the stunned, frozen faces around her, “And I’m willing to bet you don’t even have your Coven’s support to be in our territory.”

She clicked her tongue, scolding her like a child, “I bet they’d hand you over to forfeit a war. But, I’ll tell you what. If you return him, we’ll forget this little misunderstanding.”

The Crew all start to stand, each one with a protest on their teeth that dies a quick death when Lilith holds her hand up to pause them, and she shakes her head. She’s asking for a moment, patience, as she sorts this out.

They sit back down, looking furious and bitter, but they sink back into the chairs around their table and Lilith realizes this is not the first time they’ve been here. They had all been here when they had gone for Sin, tried so desperately to find him, and they’re here again for Nightmare.

Something warms her soul at that, and she allows a brief reprieve from the horror to really soak in the Den magic around her. Allows it to solidify her determination, turning her to titanium.

Evian’s voice hitches, _“He was unclaimed. You haven’t claimed him.”_

Lilith snorts, “So what? We’re still courting.” Her voice is smooth and quick despite how she winces at how that sounds, how it earns sour expressions from the rest of the Crew, “That does not negate the fact, he’s still ours and lots of blended Dens take time to tell their non mage Den mates what they mean to them.”

It’s both a simplistic explanation to Evian and the Crew, one that Lilith hopes they understand.

She focuses back on the phone call and strives to sound nonchalant despite how her soul aches with loss, “Let’s be honest here, Evian. We wouldn’t be the first Den to go on a mission to rescue a non mage Den mate whose gotten into trouble. You just had the unfortunate luck of him being ours.”

_“You don’t know where we are.”_ Is the desperate response of someone who has only just realized how deep into it they’ve gotten themselves, _“We’re protected by shielding spells, a scrying spell and a witch mirror won’t find us.”_

Lilith laughs, she can’t help this one and she doesn’t have to try for it to be cruel, “We found your phone number, didn’t we? Sweetie, the thing about shielding yourself from a witch mirror is this,” her voice goes so cold, its almost unrecognizable, “you have to know the ones your hiding from are not as smart as you.” Her tone gets stronger, more confident, “We’re better then you, and we will find you.”

Any emotion drops from Lilith’s tone, leaving her voice as cold as ice, “You will return Nightmare to us. You have four hours to comply.” She hangs up, leaving the line dead and cold in the room that feels like its about to burst, and she takes a breath.

Turning to face the Den and the Crew, _which were really the same thing,_ she braces for what comes next, “We need to find Nights.” She tells them calmly, maybe a little too casually and already the mages in the room are nodding in agreement as noise bursts from the others. She glances to Red and Sans, both looking amused and neither standing to help calm the others and leaving her to it alone. She huffs at them, but her dark look at them passes quickly to Felix.

They’re all trying to talk over each other, angry and loud, their breakfast is cold on the table and forgotten by all but Felix. Between pressing into Sloan’s side and trying to shore up his magic, he’s the only one still eating like a starving animal.

He gives his sister a grin and he too abandons her to deal with it.

Taking a breath, Lilith holds up her hands to quiet them down, and catches onto the three most important comments in the room as they all go silent that captures just how everyone’s feeling.

“We’re fuck’n Den mates!” Glass hisses, his sockets empty, and his big hands curled into fists. He wont look at Lola, and she looks about ready to cry. Lilith wants to reach out, tell them both its okay, its okay to be scared they’ll work together to make it right. Yet, Nightmare takes priority, and he needs Lilith’s full attention.

“Four hours?” Red doesn’t look impressed, but he’s calm and that’s what she needs, “You’re giving them four hours? They’ll have fucking moved him by then.” Red holds her gaze steady as he picks at his collar, and his words are like steel.

Yet, it’s Sin’s words that break her heart, “The last thing I said to him is when I told him he was a selfish prick.”

That stops all arguments or near anger in the face of the reality that, someone had Nightmare, someone was hurting him, and he was all alone. Pocketing her phone, Lilith crosses the room to him and squeezes his shoulder, and answers them all in reverse, “We’re going to get him back.”

Sin won’t look at her, his face is crumpled into grief and devastation as he squeezes Sloan into his side, pressing his mouth into her hair. He squeezes his sockets shut in a vain attempt to stall the tears that just won’t seem to stop falling.

“Sin.” Lilith’s voice is firm but kind, full of the kind of confidence that only came with experience, “We will get him back.” It’s an unspoken vow.

He takes a breath and looks up at her with such fragile hope, trust in her words that even Lilith’s war battered soul wobbles at it as he tries to centre himself, “Okay.” His voice is watery and sad, and it hurts Lilith to hear him like that.

“Okay.” She echoes back, squeezing his shoulder as she glances to Sloan, “Sloan, if your coming with us, you need to eat.”

She’s buried herself into Sin’s chest, her slim shoulders trembling with gasping heaves of air that they simply don’t have time for. Not if they want to get Nightmare back quickly.

Felix pauses, looks around the table, sees the panicked ashy faces of the Crew and the Den and glances back to Sloan, “Maybe you should stay here with Sin?” he offers lightly, glancing to her, “Lilith and I can manage this.”

There’s another canopy of noise from the Crew, that Nightmare was there’s _first_ and they should get to go on the raid with them. It’s silenced quickly with a crack of thunder that makes the walls of the compound shake.

Sloan lifts her head, slow and careful from Sin’s chest, eyes solid black as she wipes them with the back of her hand. She brushes away the tears that stain her pretty face and she takes a breath, “I’m coming.”

Misery is in every line of her body and her face crumples in grief, but she turns towards the table and starts to eat.

Lilith nods, “Alright,” she pauses, studies the group and takes a breath and turns to Red, “Red if you believe that I would leave Nightmare there for four hours I have time shares to sell you.” His face sneers in confusion, and she’s quick for clarification, “I’m not leaving him there for that long.”

She turns to Glass and can understand his anger. She opens her mouth, hands helplessly splayed in front of her before her mouth slowly clicks shut. Lilith pauses and quietly says, “We need to talk about that when we get Nights back.” Glass snorts and crosses his arms angrily with narrowed eye lights, and Lilith feels a little like a coward, but they just don’t have the time, “He needs us right now. And we have a real chance at getting him back quickly.”

Glass sneers as he looks down and away, a bitter snarl on his face, but is ignored by the others.

“What do we do Lilith?” Edge asks softly from the table, hands clasped tightly on the wooden surface, trembling from LV and anger. Lilith soul hurts at his dismal expression, and when he looks up at her, he’s nearly pleading to help them save theirs.

Lilith takes a breath, “There’s a process to these things.” She tells them carefully.

It makes Glass sneer angrily, “Of course there is.” He grunts at Red’s elbow to his ribs, and he bears his sharp teeth. Red fluffs up in response, baring his own in a challenge that no one can mollify. 

“I’ve bought us time with telling them they have four hours.” She tells them carefully, “We need to find Nightmare quickly. Before they reach out to their Coven, we can’t take the chance that the Flurnet will smuggle the Den back into their territory with Nights. That happens we go to war.” She shrugs helplessly, “And it could take months to get him back.”

Its _Sloan_ who snarls over her food, shoveling it quickly into her mouth at the thought.

Felix nods with his sisters, “Yeah, and we don’t need that.” he messily licks the syrup off his fingers, “Still can’t believe they bought that shit.” And he grins at Lilith.

Lilith shrugs, looking over to the witch mirror, eyes narrowed, “Yeah well, that’s what good PR buys you.”

Glass snarls again, agitated, his socket flaring with bright orange magic, “This isn’t a fucking joke!” he sneered, making everyone jerk as something tense snaps and he slaps his hands into the table, “They’re going to kill him!”

Felix and Sloan freeze, food halfway to their mouths, and Sans is slowly standing, his eye light flashing angrily. Lilith shakes her head at him quietly, and her voice is smooth, “It’s not a joke Glass. In the war, they used to say never trust a battle mage that’s not in your own Den. We can’t be trusted not to double cross those outside the Coven, and if they’re giving you a time limit, it’s time to cut and run.”

She pauses and glances to Felix, his wide, amused grin, mouth innocently full of French toast, “And where Felix has a terrible reputation to not be trusted,” her brother is nodding along happily, not ashamed of his torn reputation, “I’ve worked hard to keep mine clean.”

“Yeah, how?” Glass spat, his claws digging into the wooden table, and Lilith winces at the little coils of wood catching in his sharp claws.

Lilith shrugs, glances to Sans and holds eye contact until he slowly sat back down. She took a breath, “I would tell our enemies they had so many hours to comply, attack immediately, and leave no survivors.” She shrugged again, cold and distant, “The dead tell no tales, and there was no one left to tell the truth.”

She looks back up to Glass’s dark look and vicious snarl, and she gives him a bitter grin, “What, you think I got to LV 19 by being merciful?” her head shakes and her long, loose hair sways from side to side, “Point is, they won’t be expecting us.”

“Who are they?” it’s Wine’s small voice that breaks the tension a little as he looks weakly at the table, but his usually dead socket is alight with magic and a star.

Lilith takes a breath, “The Light Shade. They’re a Den of mages that come from the Flurnet Coven. They’re,” she pauses and looks up with a cringe, “Allies of our Coven. But they see the world strictly in black and white, good and evil. Nothing in shades of grey, and they hate anything not ‘good.’”

Lilith rolls her eyes and finger quotes with the word _good_ , “They were the Den that wanted Felix excommunicated when we found him.”

Felix laughs, “Yeah, apparently having a demon attached to your soul doesn’t put them in their good books.”

Lilith nods, grim and angry, “And Evian’s mother did kill that pup.” She licks her lips and sighs, “And they’d see Nightmare as a threat to all good things.”

Wine nods, and licks his sharp teeth, “And what will they do to him?”

“They’re trying to purify him.” Sloan answers bitterly from the table before she drinks deeply from her glass of juice, feeling her magic shoring up with breakfast.

She feels something cold slide down her spine, dread quietly spreading through her chest, “We need to figure out how to find him. He’s still in Ebott, I could hear the thunder over the phone.”

“Hell hounds?” Red asks from across the table, still picking at his collar, eye lights focused on the wooden surface with a frown.

Felix shakes his head no, “Not fast enough.” He wipes his hands on his pants and nods to Lilith, “You, eat. You’re going to need fuel in the tank if you wanna fight.”

She doesn’t argue with him, just quietly switches places with Felix, handing over leadership to him. Felix stands and picks up the mirror and sighs, “Lola, if they’re trying to purify him, we’re going to need the infirmary.”

Biting her lip, Lola nods, “Alright.” She tells him softly, wiping at her eyes, “I’ll be ready.” She pauses and sighs, “I’ll contact the Coven healers too, just in case.”

Felix nods, watches her go as she stands and his eyes widen, “Wait, wait, wait!” he calls after her, the last ‘wait’ coming out as _wat_ as he rushed forward and piled food onto an empty plate, “Take fuel for the road. I think we’re going to need it.”

Hesitating, Lola nods, and square’s her shoulders as she takes the offering before she disappears to prepare for their injured party member. Felix watches her go, his now gold eyes slipping to Glass, a grin slow to pull at his mouth.

Glass glares back at him, puffed up and angry, earning a raised brow from the steadfast battle mage. He frowns at Felix, annoyed and distraught, “Fine, I’ll help Lola.” He told them bitterly as he pushed himself away from the table and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Felix grins, “Take a plate!” he called brightly after Glass’s retreating back, earning himself the middle finger, and Felix can’t help but laugh, “Good talk man!”

Glass disappears up the stairs, and Felix’s grin falls. He’s already piling more food onto another empty plate, “So, uh. Ry?”

Ryder sighs and rubs at his eyes. Felix knows his brother can’t do the war thing anymore, not like them, he doesn’t _enjoy_ the fight like they do. He can’t come with them to take a base, not anymore. It’s too hard on him and they both know it.

Felix won’t screw his brother over like that.

“Yeah, I know.” Ryder sighs and pushes himself up, “I’ll contact the Coven leaders. Tell them what’s up. With any luck, they can get in contact with the leadership of the Flurnet before Evian does. Maybe a little bit of muscle to get her to stand down.”

Felix is nodding, and yeah, it’s a job no one wants, like calling home to your parents, but Ryder’s the best man for it, “Thanks.”

Ryder nods, and squares his large shoulders as Felix shoves the full plate at him, “Be careful.” And his scared face twists into a brittle grin, “I don’t want to have to come get your asses.”

Felix grins back, bright and wide with too many teeth, “Ah, don’t worry bro. You’re not that lucky.” And Ryder laughs at Felix’s smug wink.

Papyrus sighs, “I will go with Ryder.” He declared, gathering his own plate, “As your ambassador, I will be able to see any trickery they try to pull over my fabulous fella.”

His words make Ryder go bright red from hairline to throat, looking about as soft as a marshmallow, so deeply in love when he nods to Papyrus. His smile is gentle on his harsh face, and something softens in Felix’s soul, “Thanks Paps.” Then, they’re gone, leaving the others to the rescue.

“Okay.” Felix tells the others brightly, his smile a little unhinged, “Lola’s got the med bay on lock. Ry and Paps are all Coven-ing it up. All we gotta do now is find Nights.” His eyes shimmer in bright gold as he opens the witch mirror.

Wine frowns up at him, “How?”

“By being smarter then these fucks.” Felix tells him brightly, his breath ghosting over the black glass to wake it up. It warms in his hand and reflects his gold magic back at him, something otherworldly stirring within the tool.

Felix risks a glance, sees Wine watching him intently, sockets wide with worry and something else. A fondness that Felix isn’t used to being directed at him, and it makes him feel _delighted_ that Wine is interested in him.

He glances to Coffee, softer but no less special, and he wonders, now that Sloan _ironically_ let the cat out of the bag, could he keep them?

He doesn’t ask the question, but the witch mirror still whispers _yes_ into his ears, draining his magic.

Felix ignores it and shakes it off despite how his heart thumps in his chest. He needs to focus; Nights needs him right now, is counting on them to find him. He licks his lips, looking away from Wine’s pretty face and how his eye light tracks his tongue. He focuses on the shiny black glass, and _thinks,_ “Can you see the sun from there they’re keeping Nightmare?” he asks softly after a glance to the bright ball of fire in the sky.

Confused looks go around the table, but Felix ignores it. He’s got a plan, and he’s about to blow them all away with his fucking genius.

The mirror whispers _yes_ in his head, and he grins brightly.

“Cool.” Glee fills his chest, anticipation fills him, because, yes, he was smarter then these fucks, “If my back was to their front door and I was facing away, can I still see the sun?” that only erns him more confused looks, and inwardly he tsks at Lilith. She should have figured out what he was doing by now.

_Yes._ More magic drains from him, and he’s happy to give it.

“Great. Can you show me that image? With my back to the door and the sun in a panoramic view?” he asks soft and kind, polite to the mirror and around him the others still.

Felix grins as an image comes to the back of his eyes, one that only he could see as more magic is drained away. The sun is still low, this is in real time, and the bright green trees are bathed in golden light. The road is broken, like so many miles of it around the forests and mountain. There are no distinguishing signs, nothing to indicate this was someplace special.

But Felix doesn’t need special, not when he’s got something _better_. “Great, this exact image. Right by the road. What’s the google maps GPS coordinates?” he grins when he hears someone choke, hears someone cough as a series of numbers blurt in his head.

Grinning, knowing he’s fucking won, he pulls out his phone and punches in the numbers into the maps app. His phone loads it to the right road where the sun and trees meet and the long, dead driveway leads to an abandoned hospital. A happy blue ping is at the very end of the driveway, right at the apex of the road, and Felix _smirks._

“Thank you.” He whispers to the black glass, it pays to be polite and it’s weird, unsettling presence whispers back a dark, happy _your welcome_.

Felix shivers, he never did like witch mirrors much, weird power but it was the things you did for Den mates in need. Shaking off the eerie feeling that made the demon in his soul shiver, he places the mirror and his phone back on the table, the bright screen lit up happily with its happy little pin and he _grins_.

“They’ve got him at the old hospital in Ebott. Think it was abandoned years ago when the new one in town opened.” He told the room of gob smacked faces, and really, they should have known he’d figure it out, “Looks to be about forty minutes outside of town on the other side of the mountain.”

He rocks back on his heels as he crosses his arms and lets that sink in.

“Shit.” Sin mutters, sockets wide to Felix’s bright grin.

“Did you just use google maps and a witch mirror to find Nights?” Lilith asks, just as stunned as the others. Honestly shocked and impressed, awed by Felix’s smarts.

Felix preens, and soaks it in. He glances to Wine’s wide eye’d awe as well, sees that melt into something like interest, and Felix feels himself puff up with a grin. He holds eye contact with Wine, his head tilted back to bare his throat in offering, and he grins when Wine’s breathing hitches a little, “I did.”

He hears Lilith sigh, stuffing her face as he holds Wine’s gaze, his grin bright with interest and want as adrenaline begins to flood his veins. He knows what happens next, what’s coming, and excitement floods him. He’s a battle mage, he can’t _help_ it.

Action, adventure, fighting, keeping his Den safe, these are all his favorite things.

The demon purrs, whispers that Wine is attracted by it, he _likes_ it. Likes that Felix could be a good protector, a provider. He could –

Lilith stands up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, “Alright, what are we going to do?”

Wine looks to her and breaks eye contact with Felix. He huffs in disappointment, and slouches back into his chair and tilts his to head to Lilith. Damn. He was so close.

Sloan slaps her hands onto the table, her teeth gritted as she sneered and stood, “We’re going to rip them all apart.” She snarled, blue magic crackling at her fingers, her anger back in full force.

Lilith blinked at her sister while Felix rolled his eyes. She glanced to Sans and was calm, “Well, yeah. But, we going in with a plan or dash and grab?”

Felix grinned, filled with delight. He didn’t care either way and would let his sisters plan out the _how,_ he was down for either. Anything for a Den mate, anything for a little bit of chaos.

Anything to bring Nightmare home.

Felix’s grin widened at Sloan’s snarl, low and vicious as dark red magic crawls over her body as the armor that had been blessed to her by Lilith starts to cover her. Her armor is dark and sharp, nearly void black in how dark it was, a direct reflection of her emotional state; her chest plate was heavy and angular, her collar armor thick around her throat as her pauldrons circled her shoulders.

Yet, it was how her magic pulled at her thick curly hair that gathered up along the centre of her skull, high and vicious, war time hair that makes Felix grin. Two braids coil tightly along the sides of her head as her hair is pulled into a mohawk rather then a simple bun as her lips and eyes darken with her anger.

She’s not wearing a helmet with hair like that, and it’s a statement. A challenge to those who dare touch what’s hers, and she wants survivors to know exactly who slaughtered their Den. “So.” Felix drawls as his own armor is summoned, dark and sharp, “It’s like that eh?”

“It’s like that.” She confirms, and with a sigh, Lilith stands to shake herself out as her own pitch-black armor is summoned, “Dash and grab. We get Nightmare, kill anything between us and him, and get back before they bring in reinforcements.” Sloan sneers, anger clear in her tone, “We leave enough survivors to relay the _message”_

With any luck, this will be the last time they do this, the last time mages are dumb enough to make a play for what is _hers._

Lilith mirrors Sloan’s armor, sharp and angular, her own straight reddish-brown hair is pulled by invisible fingers, calling to Sloan’s anger, and pulled to coiled along the centre of her head. Two braids twisting tightly against her sculp as her mohawk formed.

Grinning, Felix pulled his own armor into existence, and he settles into his easily. He knows these are not unexpecting monsters, the mages they’re going after will know who they are the moment they’re discovered. The game is really to stay hidden long enough to find Nightmare before they’re found out.

This is a statement, as much a claiming as anything else. More so then even Ryder calling the Coven to inform them formally. This is a declaration, that the skeletons belong to _them_.

It makes Felix’s mouth water and settles his instincts in a way. Things will be okay, once they get Nightmare back.

“Alright.” Felix tells her as he shakes out his shoulders with a clap of his hands, accepting the weight of his armor, “Whose car we tak’n?”

Glowering, Sloan pulls out a potion from her inventory, its bubbling dark blue like her magic, and Felix grins, “Haven’t seen that since we were underground.”

“Yeah, and now we’re going to make someone new hurt with it.” Sloan snipes at him, and Felix takes it in stride. He gets it, he does, someone has Nightmare, and Sloan just went through this with Sin. His sister was still raw from it, still recovering from the last time this happened, and something harsh shifts in Felix’s belly.

It hardly seemed fair that Sloan get dinged with this bull shit twice. Whoever watched out for mage’s and assholes was being a dick.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts when Sloan snaps, “Circle up, we’re going to the hospital.”

Felix nearly bounds over to her, all wide smiles, and grins to Lilith’s cool and calm expression. He’s hot fire and broiling gold to her steady hands and blood red.

The others stand back, watching carefully and staying out of the way as Sloan spoke coldly, “We’re going in through the cafeteria. It’s been a long time since we’ve been to this hospital, but I remember how fucking cold it was.”

Lilith nods, takes one of Sloan’s hands and reaches for Felix’s, “And the chairs were stiff and hurt.” She adds coldly.

“And the food was shit.” He chimed in with a laugh as Sloan dropped the potion and took his hand, “Remember when Lola got sick and we had to take her there before the healers showed up? We sat in the shitty cafe for like six hours, and the coffee was burnt.”

The glass jar shattered but no liquid spilt, and dark smoke pooled out. Its thick and heavy, pulling at red, blue and yellow magic. It’s dense in the tight kitchen as a portal is ripped open into their floor as the smoke touches their feet. It’s small and tight, only wide enough for one of them to drop through at a time, and below it a dark, musty room.

Its thick with dust and Felix laughs, “Oh, that shits haunted.”

Lilith rolls her eyes, and glances to Sans, “It’s not haunted. Ghosts like that aren’t real.”

Crouching down to examine the portal and the smoke that’s thick around the edges, Sloan can’t help but be reminded that it’s the same magic they used to get to Snowdin, and it felt so long ago.

She wonders if this was how Lilith felt, panicked and helpless, when they went for Sans after Chara had dumped her in the void. She wonders if her sister felt so desperate to get him back, so helpless and riddled with guilt.

At least Lilith hadn’t been cruel to Sans, as she had, and guilt nearly cripples Sloan. She takes a breath and watches Lilith cross the room to Sans. She bends at the waist to press a kiss to his mouth, one he’s eager to return, melting into her armored hands, the steel claws careful on his cheeks.

He sighs into their kiss before they break it, always seeming to know when they were done without spoken words, and Sloan feels her heart squeeze. Sans, she knew, suffered for his happiness, but really, did they all need to? It just didn’t seem fair.

She has to look away, she can’t watch Sans give Lilith a soft look, can’t watch him tell her to be careful. Can’t see Red ask her if she still has the bone he gave her, see him grin in delight when she pats her thigh where the sharpened construct has now been strapped. There, just in case of emergencies.

She can’t see Red light up that she still has the weapon he gave her, can’t watch Edge pat her shoulder and tell her to be careful.

Why did she have to be so mean to him? Why had she had to be so cruel to Nightmare?

She swallows her guilt and knows she has another who needs her, and Sin needs reassurance.

The portal, and Nightmare, aren’t going anywhere.

Like Lilith, Sloan turns to her mate, who looks terrified and carries the same guilt she does and _needs her._ He looks crushed with heavy shame, with remorse intense enough that Sloan can feel it and she wraps her arms around his ribs as hard as she can.

Sin nearly folds around her despite her sharp armor and grips onto her as tightly as he can, trembling when she whispers, “I’ll bring him home.”

Sin nods, swallowing any small noise of distress and pain, hating how he feels. Hates how she’s going without him and he isn’t ready to go with her. He hates how he’s _afraid_ he’s going to lose them both, “Just be careful.” He mutters against her, and Sloan shivers when his breath ghosts along the shell of her ear.

She squeezes him tightly, and nods against his shoulder. She takes a moment to just _hold him_ , and quietly swore she would find Nightmare. She would bring him home.

Behind her, as she clings to Sin, Wine gets up and crosses the room to Felix. She can nearly feel her brother coiling with tension, trying desperately not to fumble over his words. Had anything else been happening, Sloan would have laughed when Wine reached up for the lip of Felix’s chest plate and pulled him down hard.

It would have been funny to watch Felix’s eyes go wide as a sharp tooth mouth pressed against his. It would have been sweet to watch Felix relax, going to mush in Wine’s hands as around the room the others make startled noises when Felix kisses him back. Claimed as much as he did the claiming.

It should have been hilarious to see Wine break the kiss gently, cupping his soft cheeks and for Felix to whisper, “I’ll be careful.”

Only for Wine to snort, “I’m coming with you.” Huffy and annoyed, like there was ever an option as he straightened up despite Felix’s sudden sputtering protests.

Sloan can’t laugh, not with Sin trembling and barely holding it all together even as Wine brushes passed Felix to drop into the portal. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even consider not coming with them, and she can’t laugh at Felix’s squawk of indignation and Lilith’s laughter at her brother.

She doesn’t have it in her to be standing shoulder to shoulder with her brother and sister, in awe at his audacity, can’t bear to see Felix’s eyes flair with amusement and arousal in the face of her own hurt.

She squeezes Sin a little tighter, and doesn’t want to let him go, “I’ll be right back.” She promises.

Sin is helpless but to believe her, and clings to the hope that the mages have never let them down.


	33. To Save A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mages and Wine go on a raid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Happy Devils Night! Tomorrow there will be a little Halloween short posted, but it will not be a chapter in this story. It will be a few months after this chapter (as this is early summer) and thus have some spoilers, so watch for that new story coming out tomorrow. 
> 
> As to this chapter, this isn't my favorite chapter but I'll be honest, I'm outta spoons. Its been a long week of training at work and my cat is quite sick, so I just simply don't have the energy to go through this chapter as carefully as I would normally do, and I've already gone through it four times. I'm worried that if I get hung up on this chapter that I'll get bogged down. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy though! 
> 
> WARNING: AU typical violence, blood, gun violence, broken bones, violence, fighting, let me know if I've missed any warnings.

Making a desperate noise as the early morning sun stretches across the pale marble of the dining room floor, Felix’s hands curl and uncurl into fists as Wine drops into the world below, and into the dark, abandoned hospital. He hisses low in his throat, as Wine lands lightly, bending his knees as to not hurt himself before he popped back up safely.

Felix watches Wine, _his_ sweetheart of only a short while, land lightly in hell. Felix watches as Wine glances smoothly around as if it were no big deal, as if he weren’t in danger, “You aren’t even wearing shoes!” Felix hissed down at Wine, running a hand through his hair before both hands land to grip at the lip of his chest plate, fingers curling around the edge to cling lightly to it, “Get back up here!”

“It’s fine Felix.” Wine calls back gently, shaking himself out, loosening his shoulders, and glancing around the room carefully, “I survived Swapfell. Surely I can manage this.” He looks around the eerie room as dust floats through the air and cobwebs cling stubbornly to the corners as the sunlight filters in through dirty, broken, windows.

Felix makes a deep noise of unhappiness as Lilith slide up next to him, her own armored body a warm line next to his. Grinning at his distress and growing anxiety, Lilith glances down to Wine in the hospital and gives her brother a cheeky smirk even as her eyes flood blood red, “Your boy has no shoes on Felix.”

He glowers at his sister and her delight, can still see Sans’s magic on her breath as she exhales slowly. Gold eyes glance to Sans, who’s looking like a smug bastard, and Felix huffs an annoyed noise, “It’s fine Lilith.”

She hums, like the brat she is, “I dunno Felix. Looks haunted.”

He turns slowly to really scowl at his sister’s grinning face, hates how she delights in turning his words against him. Wine sighs from below, “Are you two done? I could use some help looking for Nightmare.”

Felix gives him a stressed look, full of anxiety as it ripples through his soul, easily compared to his sisters deeply amused grin. It makes Wine sigh, “Are you two going to be like this the whole trip?” he asks them mildly exasperated.

They try to answer over each other.

“Yes.” Lilith tells him brightly.

“No!” Felix hisses, frowning at his sister, “You aren’t coming with us.”

“He’s already in the hole Felix.” Lilith points out mildly, taking a step towards the portal with a grin, getting ready to drop in next to Wine.

There’s the sound of a door opening and Wine spins lightly towards the noise, spine straight and a cruel grin on his face despite the fact he’s shoeless, and only wearing a loose t-shirt and jogging shorts. His blind eye erupts with magic and a bright red star swirls in this socket as someone yells out, “Who the fuck are you?” and Felix hisses as fear pulses through him.

Wine doesn’t hesitate as he lifts his control hand, summoning a dozen red bone constructs, but unlike Sans’s, they’re rounded and blunt. The end of the bone drops away, and a barrel of a rifle gleams in the dirty sun light, and Felix feels his eyes widen.

His mouth falls open as Wine closes his fist, the constructs going off like a firing squad, and the crimson from his magic bathing his pale face in ruby light. His grin is sharp enough to cut, his expression twisted into cruelty as the star blazed in his socket.

He stands, fearless, alone and outnumbered, and he _doesn’t hesitate._

Screams echo around the room, adding to the canopy of noise that had been Felix’s lullaby for years, and despite everything, Felix can’t help but _adore_ Wine. A blush scalds his face, hot enough that he’s sure he could cook an egg on his cheek as Wine twists elegantly out of the way of a magical attack from a Light Shade spell caster that sends debris into the air. It’s like he’s speaking Felix’s language, something only a battle mage could understand, and his heart skips a beat.

His dodging is like a dance, one that Wine has danced before if his smooth movements tell Felix anything. Its graceful and beautiful, and Felix feels his knees go to jelly and something softens in his soul. It’s like Wine is courting him, and every gentle move and easy dodge feels like a blow to Felix’s unsteady heart.

His face burns, from hairline to his throat, eyes wide and he’s so still as he watches Wine dance around the mages in the room, twisting and turning out of their way. Not once does he let them get close, he’s too quick, too light on his feet.

Something warm pools in his belly, hot and needy, and Felix _melts_.

Lilith’s bright laughter shakes him from his stupor, startling him enough that he shakes off the warm, gooey feelings that watching Wine fight bring up.

She grins brightly at him, glancing to Wine elegantly dipping and dodging, and whistles long and low, “Oh Felix, you got it bad man.”

He doesn’t bother to ask her to clarify what _it_ was, the warm unnamed emotion that was settling softly in his soul like the bud of a flower waiting for just the right combination of rain and sun to bloom.

He lightly shoulder checks his sister with a grim look, “Fuck off.”

They watch Wine dance and fight without breaking a sweat, smirking when one of his magic bullets makes contact, and the spell caster’s head explodes in a messy smear of bone and blood before he drops.

Felix barely stifles the groan, would never live it down, but he doesn’t think he can hide it if the magic in his eyes have formed into tiny hearts.

Lilith’s grin tells him she saw the hearts, and his face burns at being caught. She tilts her head as she sees another mage charging Wine from behind, and without taking her eyes from the fight, she chuckles softly, “So bad.”

He’s about to tell her to fuck off again, that she’s being an ass, but she ignores him, stepping forward to the lip of the portal, allowing herself to drop into the world below. Felix watches her go easily, dropping down smoothly.

Falling between Wine and his attacker, Lilith barely bending her knees as she lands like she stepped off the side of a curb and not a drop with some height. She steps into the fall, stepping into the mage’s space as she lifted an armored elbow with a hard thrust into his face.

The mage falls backwards hard, his nose breaking, blood spluttering from his nose to spray hotly across her face as he goes down. Lilith goes cold, any hint of a grin or amusement dying quickly as she reaches for his throat with claw tipped gauntlets, sinking the steel into the soft flesh of his unprotected neck before yanking back brutally.

The mage dies choking on his own blood as it spurts heavily across her obsidian chest plate and Lilith claws into his chest for his soul; slicing through armor and bone until blood is up to her elbow, she gets her hands on the rapidly pulsing organ. It shatters in her hand with little pressure, and the body falls limp to the ground, bleeding out coldly as glossy eyes stare unseeing into nothing.

She doesn’t gloat or preen, already coiled and ready for the next one as a much taller mage attacks her from behind. His heavier weight pushed her easily, but Lilith didn’t fight it, didn’t struggle, or try to stop it. Instead she allowed him to shove her forward to a wall, her foot catching it at knee height.

Using the momentum she gained by being shoved so hard, Lilith kept climbing, pressing back into his hands until she went up and over, in a pseudo wall flip. Landing lightly on his back, her arm wrapped around his neck as she summoned a blade that she impaled into the side of his throat; it was pulled roughly out to stab him again, and again, hot blood spilling over her hand as she attacked.

He falls with a heavy gurgle, and Lilith rides him down, stepping off his torso as he grabs for his throat. Blood drips helplessly down between his fingers, heavy and quick, the room is feeling tight with its stench. His heart gives out when no green healing magic knits him back together, and he dies choking on his own blood.

Lilith shakes herself out, cracks her neck and twists the blade in her hand as she spins around to face the room, slowly backing towards Wine.

Wine grins around the room to the dozen or so mages around them, his sharp, needle like teeth pulled into an amused smirk as he steps back lightly to Lilith.

Dark, crimson eyes glance around to the loose circle of Light Shade mages, her pale cheeks not even flushed with the effort, and when she grins, its cold, “You’re not wearing shoes Wine.”

He snorts, a delicate noise despite the cruel grin in his expression and the star that strobes in his usually empty socket, “Like I need shoes.” He tells her elegantly, rolling his shoulders back to straighten.

Lilith grins, eyes sliding around the room as she reaches back, grasping at his wrist, “Felix tell you about battle mage blessings yet?”

Wine hums his answer in the negative, his own star like eye light drifting around the room. “I’m sure he’ll rip mine out and replace it with his own.” Her magic began to spread up his arm, warm with her intent and want to protect, and only then does Wine look away from the room.

Crimson magic spreads over his bones, slow and careful, turning his clothes from loose sleep wear to something familiar. Something he settles into easily; it’s frightening how effortlessly he slips into the tight leather cat suit and high red boots. His pauldrons seem heavier, offering more protection and the collar armor is thicker under his scarf as blood red gloves take shape up to his elbows.

He grins at a battle mage’s blessing, delighted as he glances up to Felix and his shocked, _aroused,_ expression and he wonders what it would be like to have Felix’s magic wrapped around his lithe frame.

He wants to know, “Thank you Lilith.”

She nods, loosening her body and readies for the next onslaught as a blade is summoned into her hand. They have what she wants, what they want, and this is a _statement_. When they move, its quick and brutal, holding nothing back.

Battle mages and Fell fight to win.

-

Swallowing hard, Felix grins as Lilith and Wine disappear deeper into the room, the sound of gun fire and swords muffle the sweet sounds of their victory. Excitement fills him and Felix summons a heavy axe and he shakes himself out.

Its time to have some fun, its time to cause some chaos, and the demon purrs inside his chest. He gets to _show_ Wine his battle prowess, he gets to show off for another warrior for once, who will appreciate what he can do.

Delight fills him, but as Felix looks back to his sister, his joy is doused, and he pauses. Any glee that he would have gotten out of the fact that Lilith and Wine were fighting together were dashed in the face of Sloan’s utter _hurt._ It was easy to forget that it was _her_ favorite that was alone and hurting, tortured, when his own was within reach.

It makes something uncomfortable, like the feeling of a wet sock that’s scrunched up around the balls of your foot, settle in his chest. It makes him frown and Felix feels a rare sense of _shame._

Shame at his own amusement when his sister was hurting so desperately. In pain, and that this was the second time this happened to one of _hers_ in a handful of weeks.

The guilt that followed the flush of relief that it wasn’t Wine that was hurting was something Felix could taste on the back of his tongue. He didn’t want any of them to be here, but it was appalling how reassured Felix was that it wasn’t Wine.

He shoves it down, pretends it doesn’t exist when he clears his throat, “Hey, uh. Sloan? Maybe you should stay here. Let the three of us bring him home, we’ll be in and out real quick.” He glances around the room, to _their_ people and knows Sloan would be in good hands, “Maybe you stay here with Sin. We’ll bring your boy home.”

Sloan takes a breath, a deep, long sigh as she squeezes Sin harder before she pulls away. When she turns to Felix, he settles and knows what she will say before she does. Knows that if their positions were reversed, Felix wouldn’t be left behind.

Neither would Lilith, and they would be leading the charge.

Her eyes are solid black, as deep as any demon or battle mage, her steps even and careful as her legs carry her confidently to him, and if she had trembled in Sin’s arms, she doesn’t now. Pulling the axe from his hands, Sloan swings it up to her shoulder, “Evian’s mine.”

His grin is crooked and _off_ as his hands splay in a sign of surrender. With a laugh, Felix nods, “Then let’s go get her.”

Sloan doesn’t look back, knows better then to look into the eyes of those they love before a hard run and drops into the world below. With a laugh Felix follows, and the screaming only gets louder.

-

Sloan remembered blood lust as a faint, dizzy memory. Even when they went for Sin, she had been in _control_ of her LV and vice. They had slaughtered monsters without a second thought, anything to get to Sin.

This was the same, and yet different. These weren’t helpless monsters, these were mages who _should have fucking known better_ , and she can’t hold back her vicious intent, her spite. This was indeed a _statement_ , a reminder that they shouldn’t fuck with Pandora.

Yet, it was _hers_ in the balance. Nightmare, who she pushed away, she _hurt_ and had left him alone. Made him feel like he couldn’t come to her for help and he got hurt because of it. Nightmare suffered, and her fault or not, she carried the blame.

She accepted that hurt, and returned it tenfold, and slaughtered everything in their way. It was a sick taste of nostalgia, much like how Lilith felt after she ordered Wren to fire on an enemy kingdom in a show of brutality.

She wants the same, she wants them to _suffer_ for what they did to Nightmare when the others had all slept. For hurting him so badly before the sun even rose.

She wants to take him home and protect him, show that she could. She hadn’t meant to fail him, and it wouldn’t happen again.

She’s about to round the corner, blood and gore spattered across her obsidian armor, running so thickly she almost looks like a battle mage, when Lilith’s clawed gauntlets grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her back.

Stumbling back with a choked gasp before the next knot of mages could see them, milling about in front of the surgical ward, Sloan whirls around on her sister with a hiss, “What!”

Lilith snarls, puffed up and angry, just as bloodied as her, and she licks it from her teeth, “Wait!” 

Sloan coils tight with anger that her sister would dare ask her to wait, and she jeers, “Wait? I’m not fucking waiting. Enough Waiting!”

Lilith is steady and calm, carefully nodding at Sloan’s fury, “I’ve got a better idea.” She tells her sister carefully, her hand firm on Sloan’s arm.

“The only surgical ward in this hospital are behind those doors. Thirty feet to the door from here, and they’re guarding it more then the other wards. Nightmare has to be there. The surgical theater is about forty feet beyond that. Seventy feet, and he’s ours.” Lilith explains in a deadly calm voice, making Sloan growl low in her throat, “Directly above us, is the children’s ward.”

“So what?” Sloan can’t help her anger and furious tone. Her hands are shaking, and she can taste bitter resentment on her tongue.

Lilith grins, “This is a statement, and we need survivors.” Her grin becomes a smirk at Sloan’s fury and she’s tugging her sister upstairs, “And I have a way to get to Nightmare faster.”

Sloan gives in a little. She doesn’t trust in much, but she trusts in Lilith.

-

In the dark, eerie, abandoned children’s ward, scattered with dusty toys, Sloan takes a breath. She tries to relax between Felix and Wine, feels a horrible mixture of anticipation at seeing Nightmare again and horror when she lets herself remember what has been done to him. She isn’t sure she’s prepared to see him, not like this, not broken and hurt.

She persists, ignores her own discomfort, and forces herself to settle. She calms and swears the first thing she does when she finds him is squeeze the hell out of him. She’s going to hold him, and never let go.

Felix laughed suddenly, and Sloan tries not to be annoyed with him. It’s not his fault that Nightmare was taken, and not Wine. “Lil, you think you still have it?”

Lilith snorts and spreads her hands out further on the heavy sledgehammer, shimmering in crimson magic, “It’s been a while, but I still got it.” She reassured and squared her shoulders, “You all remember what to do?”

Lilith grins when they nod, even Sloan, her body still tight with tension. They all take a breath, and Lilith’s grin falls into stone as she lifts the heavy sledge up and over her shoulder. The heavy head swings up, then down as hard as Lilith can make it. Magic and power buzzed through her and into the hammer as the metal head slammed into the broken tiles of the floor.

There’s an explosion of noise, chaotic in how loud it was as the floor glowed with the power of her magic and exploded outward. Tile, wood and debris burst around them as the floor caved in, and Sloan felt the sick twist of her stomach at suddenly being weightless as they fell.

She can hear Felix’s whoop of laughter; sees how he holds Wine’s hand as they fall. She can hear Wine’s laughter too, higher and softer then Felix’s, and she won’t be jealous. Not right now, not of her brother and not when Nightmare was within reach.

She won’t allow the sick wash of nostalgia bother her either, not now. Not when she’s so close to getting him back, this isn’t the war, and this isn’t a suicide mission.

This is a statement. 

They hit the ground hard in a canopy of chaos and dust, and Sloan can only imagine what they must look like, falling through the ceiling like creatures of the Nether, rising from the dust like monsters.

She’s up first, rising from the ashes like a demon, armor shining black and sharp, face bared and hair tall. Her eyes are solid black, blood splattered heavily across her armor and her expression like ice as she lobs a writhing mass of tentacles at Evian. It spreads wide as if it’s a face hugger about to wrap itself around her skull and lay its horrendous larva in her chest.

Evian startles at the chaos around them, eyes wide in shock before she overcomes it as quick as a battle mage could, and moves into action, but she’s not nearly as fluid as Lilith or Felix. Her summoned armor is no where near as heavy or sharp, her long sword thin and delicate looking compared to her siblings rugged equipment. It’s not something meant for war, not for heavy battle or endless slaughter.

She’s quick and precise, and neatly cuts her ball of tentacles in half, turning it to dust that floats like glitter around the room. Evian’s smug and delighted, like she’s won, and it turns something to fire in Sloan’s chest. White hot with rage, anger she can barely swallow back.

Sloan takes a step towards her, her intent burning with a need to hurt Evian, her mind scrambling for which spell would do enough damage to make her scream, to make her _hurt_. Sloan has a particularly vicious one that comes to mind, but she’ll have to dig deep into war time magic for this cruel spell, one that was renowned for its brutality.

More so then even her tentacles and her shadows of intent, and already the spell is whispered under her breath. Her lips move with unspoken words and magic gathers in her hand, as behind her the others attack.

Taking another step towards Evian, Sloan is calm in her fury as Felix attacks her Den mate and Wine bars the door with a wall of crimson bones, and that’s when she sees _him._

Everything stops, freezes, when she sees dirty ivory bones and his limp body. Shock, she thinks, is what hits her and she does the one thing you should never do in a battle, and stops paying attention to anything but him.

Sloan doesn’t know the full extent of what they did to him in such a short time, or even _how_ they stripped him of his power, but she knows its him.

Nightmare isn’t moving, hasn’t even twitched at the sound of them bursting from the ceiling. He hasn’t snarked, hasn’t sassed and told her she’s late, and his breathing is wet sounding and shallow. There’s so much marrow and magic that pool around his limp body, that its dripping to the floor and something catches in her throat to choke her.

The darkness fades from her eyes as her mouth falls open in horror and can’t suppress the broken noise that is pulled from her chest at the sight of his soul. Her eyes go to liquid as she makes a raspy little noise, and with a hyper focus that could have gotten her killed, she turns and walks to him as if in a trance.

Evian tries to come for her, charges, but she’s cut off by Lilith, who’s taken her off her feet with a ruthless tackle like a linebacker, sending Evian flat to her back.

Sloan can’t feel the satisfaction of hearing Lilith break something in Evian, can’t feel glee at hearing a bone snap in the face of seeing the horror firsthand of what they did to Nightmare. _Her_ King of darkness.

The fighting becomes background noise, it means nothing as she takes one shaky step after another towards him. She remembers hearing of lovers in the war, who were in the exact same position as she was now, and how sometimes they died. Sometimes they didn’t make it out of the mission, sometimes they got killed doing what she was doing now, and Sloan could never understand how they could allow themselves to be put into a position of sheer stupidity as to get themselves killed.

Sloan got it now, could understand the need to get to someone important, if only to hold them in their dying moment. Yet, she also had an ace in the hole, an advantage she was more then willing to flaunt and that was the fact that her brother and sister were Lilith and Felix. Death and War, and they wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Not right now, they’d be circling like sharks, keeping anything that looked remotely like a threat away.

They would allow her a moment to stumble a little.

Nightmare looks so small on the table, less then what he actually was and his teeth chatter like he’s cold. His socket is squeezed shut like he’s in pain, and she’s horrified by the dead socket that is usually covered in heavy goop, the scars old and smooth. Someone had hurt him, long before he had been hers.

She itches to touch, but she’s terrified the wrong touch will send him tumbling into a break down, or worse, dust. Instead she carefully plants her hands on either side of his skull and licks her lips. Around her the sounds of battle fade into nothing, her voice soft but carries as far as it needs to go when she whispers, “Nightmare?”

His socket snaps open instantly at her voice, his eye light a swirl of dim, murky azure and purple that seemed to fight each other, like oil and water. Despite his pain, his chattering teeth, and his exhaustion, Nightmare gives her a weak, crooked grin, and his words finally come unwedged, “I’m sorry.”

The sob finally rips passed Sloan’s throat, and all the grief and worry bubble, “Nightmare, shut up.” She tells him weakly, and when he grins up at her, he almost looks like himself.

His teeth still chatter, but he dredges up enough of a challenge that it makes Sloan grin down at him, and something is eased in her soul, “Make me mage.”

She does. Does the only thing she can in the moment, the only comfort she can offer until she has help to extract him from _this_ perversion of a surgical table. She touches him softly, her hands careful along his skull, thumbs brushing at his temples and he’s so very cold.

He can’t move, can’t press into her careful touch, but his socket sinks shut and that helps calm Sloan. He trusts her, knows she’ll get him home, and when she lowers herself down to press a kiss to his mouth, soft and careful, he tastes like stress sweat and blood.

She doesn’t shy away from him or the grime that covers his body, and she carefully deepens their kiss, trying to push as much warmth and affection into him. She wanted him, _needed_ him, to understand just how much she lo-liked him, and she tries to pour as much of it into their kiss.

Its soft, and careful, and something neither of them usually were, but could be for each other and Nightmare sighs when Sloan’s tongue glides softly over his own. He’s too tired, in too much pain and the horror hasn’t set in yet, but he lets himself have this moment. This relief as Sloan kisses him softly as chaos burns around them, and he soaks in the weird mix of sheer brutality and love.

He startles at that. Wonders, vaguely, if she realizes that she’s projecting so strongly that even he can feel it, that her soul song is singing so strongly to his own with a desperate need to tell him, it almost makes him dizzy.

He doesn’t mention it, not right now, and as Sloan softly breaks their kiss, his voice is rough, “I’m sorry.” He tells her again, his throat raw and in pain, “I shouldn’t have said what I had to you. I shouldn’t have been so cruel to Sin.”

His soul throbs at the thought of their boyfriend, and Nightmare hopes he’s okay.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps again, and his chest hurts, and he feels like his soul is on fire.

Yet, Sloan is here, and he’s alright. He will be, they didn’t leave him, he wasn’t abandoned again. _~~They wouldn’t, not the mages, not a Den mate. He was theirs, and vice versa, he wouldn’t be forgotten, he’s not the scape goat. Never again.~~_

Sloan wipes at her face, doesn’t bother to hide the fact she has tears running down her cheeks, and he longs to brush them away. Behind her, from where he can barely see them, Felix shoves the man back and directly into Wine’s sharpened bones, and Nightmare feels oddly soft when Felix grins, delighted, at Wine.

Bonds shoring up, that’s what Rips said Den magic did. It wasn’t chains, it was sowing families and gave them what Nightmare always wanted.

Looking up into Sloan’s beautiful face, he shoves the softness away viciously and grins up at her. Sloan brushes another kiss along his forehead, and she lets out a shuttering sigh, “Yeah, well. Make sure you tell Sin.”

He nods, “I will. I promise.” He’s still _Sans_ enough that, that means something.

“Good.” She tells him, her lips brushing along the crest of his skull, “Now make it up to us by staying alive.”

He chuckles, and that hurts when his ribs pull and his spine burns, when it sounds like an order, “Okay.” He muttered, his socket sinking shut.

Sloan lets out a shuttering breath, and takes a moment to touch him, to feel him alive under her hands, to feel his bones under her skin. He’s beaten and cold, but alive. That’s all that matters, and she lets her own eyes sink shut as she takes her moment to just touch him.

The sound of battle is loud and jarring, and when Sloan opens her eyes, they’re bright azure and her patient soul pulses with anger as Lilith shoves Evian backwards. She glances over her shoulder, cocking her head towards Evian in question, an offer.

_The kill is yours if you want it._

Sloan nods, because yeah, she does want it.

Lilith nods again, and slowly backs up, drawing Evian into an obvious trap that she is none the wiser to.

That cruel, vicious little spell is on her lips, bright in her mind as she silently mouths the words of the spell, her mouth moving softly against Nightmare’s skull. She still holds him, clings to him, and makes sure that he knows she still there.

She doesn’t take her eyes off Evian, knows how horrible it’s going to be and magic crackles around her like static electricity. Sloan casts her spell, _her curse,_ at her with the quick flick of a wrist, and Evian freezes.

She makes a wet noise, a gurgling as she suddenly chokes on blood and it comes up bright against her pale skin to drip down her chin. Behind her Felix laughs coldly and in front of her, Lilith smirks, they know what’s coming next. They don’t judge her, understand her, and would stand next to her, shoulder to shoulder, with their Coven leaders and say what she’s doing was justifiable.

That this was a new war, and they may not have drawn first blood, but they sure as hell will draw last.

As if something has reached into Evian to grasp the inside of her belly, the magic wrenches upward and outward, turning her inside out; her skin splits open and folds inwards as the spell rips her apart. Her body falls to the ground, organs on the outside, and Sloan feels her knees turn to jelly with the amount of magic she used to cast that. Evian’s soul shatters, breaking into pieces and becomes dust on the wind, gone forever, never to hurt anyone again. Sloan ignores it and turns back to Nightmare.

Her magic drained hard, making her head swim, but she clings to him, and keeps her hands soft on his skull. Behind her, Felix laughs, bright and amused, “Fucking savage.” Yet any hint of laughter or amusement falls when he sees Nightmare, and when he swallows hard, Sloan knows he understands how close they came to losing him. How they still might.

Lilith is by her side in an instant, looking over Nightmare with critical eyes, objectively in a way she couldn’t, “We need to get him off this thing. Does anyone have a blanket?”

Regret fills Sloan, so much regret that she could fill buckets and buckets with it. They don’t have a blanket, and they should have grabbed one.

“I’ve, uh, got one of those emergency space blankets.” Felix offers, pulling it from his inventory, the shiny, material reflecting the bright light they had set up in the room.

Lilith nods, reaching into her own inventory, “Good, I’ve got healing wraps.”

Felix is nodding, bouncing on his toes, “Same.” And he pulls those from his inventory as well.

Taking the blanket and the small, plastic containers of bandages, Lilith hands them over to Wine, “Wine, can you set these up on the floor. Lay the blanket out flat and a container of bandages at each corner.”

Wine nods and doesn’t fight her, simply takes the containers, and starts on his task as Lilith and Felix turn back to Nightmare. Sloan takes a breath, steadies herself when she knows what comes next.

“You’re okay.” She whispers against his skull, and Nightmare makes a small noise as Lilith begins to speak softly.

“Nightmare,” she starts carefully as Sloan reaches for one of his hands, gripping lightly at his fingers and tries to give him a reassuring smile as Lilith speaks, “Felix and I need to cut the top off the,” she hesitates, glancing at the spikes through his body, “spokes. Then we’re going to lift you off it.”

At their backs, someone’s banging on the door, but Wine’s barricade holds tight and none of them flinch.

Lilith summons two small blades with light woven through the edge, no longer then her hand, and she hands one to Felix, “Do you understand?”

A little dizzy, he looks to her, his eye light flickering erratically and it makes Sloan nervous, “Yes.” He whispers, “It’s going to hurt.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and Lilith nods, “Yeah. We’ll be as gentle as we can be.”

Nightmare believes her when she tells him they will be, knows they won’t intentionally be cruel and hurt him, but they all know its going to hurt. No point in sugar coating it.

He nods and looks up to Sloan. She’s still petting his skull, her thumb brushing as soft as a feather over his forehead as Lilith and Felix press the summoned blades into the edges of the spikes of light, prying the tops off one by one.

Its uncomfortable, and it hurts when they jar him, even when they try to be so careful, but he focuses on Sloan. He watches her eyes, her pretty face, follows her lips every time she tells him its okay. He’s safe, it’s almost over.

He just needs to keep breathing, and they’ll get him home.

He believes them. Believes _in_ them. Believes Sloan.

They’re as gentle as they can be, hands steady as ever, but its still a new kind of hell as they start to lift him slowly, carefully, off the railroad like spikes of light. He can’t quite swallow his wet cry of pain as Lilith and Felix ease his legs off the light magic, the poles sticky and wet, blood pooling under him from his ruined joints.

His hips are the worse, the thick bone broken and shattered, and he can’t hold back the scream, the cry of agony, as they lift him up and off the spikes, all the while Sloan softly tells him he’s okay. She’s here, it’ll all be over soon. He keeps looking at her, tries to keep his sockets on her as Felix’s arms curl around his legs to hold him up, keeping him off the unforgiving table.

Lilith starts to pry his arms next, one painful joint coming up and off as carefully as she can, his body making a wet hiss as she peels his limbs off the spikes. He gasps and groans in pain, cries out until Lilith swapped spots with Sloan, cradling the upper half of his body against her bloodied chest plate so he was carefully suspended over the table and the spikes by the battle mages.

“Sloan get his soul.” Lilith told her firmly, her sister moving quickly to pull his damaged soul from the blue magic that trapped it and the light that burned it. Nightmare can’t move, is barely conscious and is too limp in their arms as they start to move him.

His soul throbs unhappily in her hands, pulsing in pain but Sloan’s sings back to his, a soft lullaby to sooth him. It hurts as they move him, he burns and aches, even as Lilith and Felix are gentle with him, Sloan hot on their heels with his soul.

They set him down as gently as they can, Lilith easing his skull down onto the concrete carefully, all around him blood stains the walls and the floors. The dusty white and stainless-steel hospital ward is sticky with it, the room reeks with the coppery smell of it, but Nightmare is too tired to pay it any mind. He’s in too much pain and can barely stay awake.

Sloan is by his side instantly, carefully easing his bloody and damaged soul back in behind his ribs, but it does nothing to stall the pulsing pain. It does ease something in him, to have it back where it belongs, even as he begins to tremble.

He turns towards Sloan when she takes his hand in both of hers, and she holds his hand carefully. Both of hers wrap around his bones, warm and soft as she squeezes gently.

Nightmare is starting to pass out, drifting in and out of consciousness, and he watches Sloan dully, still tasting blood on the back of his tongue.

The door to the room is still being banged on, thumping with the angry cries of someone on the other side. No one pays it any mind, all focused on him as Lilith, Felix and Wine are quick to begin to bandage his joins. Desperate to save them.

Sloan lifts his hand to her mouth, nuzzling a soft kiss to his knuckles, “Almost home Nights.” Something warms when she calls him Nights, something gentles, and he struggles to stay awake just to watch Sloan’s face.

“Felix?” he slurs, feeling dizzy as his body starts to give into the pain and exhaustion now that Sloan was here, “Am I going to be okay?”

Sloan squeezes his hand, and Felix glances up with a frown as he continues to bandage his ankle. It looks so small in his hands, delicate and easily broken. He takes a breath, and Nightmare braces, “Hypothetically, if we pull all the shards from your soul, you should go back.”

Panting, Nightmare huffs a dark laugh, “Hypothetically?”

Felix nods, moving up to his knee, Lilith already at his hip as Wine’s hand were careful around his elbow. “Yeah.” He frowns, “Honestly, no one usually survives once the Light catches them. Not many at any rate and I don’t know what lasting damage, if any, your soul will take. _Hypothetically_ , by removing the shards, your magic should be free to move about your body again, reverting you back to what you once where.”

“But I might not?” Nightmare askes, too tired to fight his fate, accepted it as it was.

Felix sighed, “Maybe.”

He laughs bitterly, tiredly, and if it comes out more of a choked sob, well, no one says anything, and Sloan holds his hand a little tighter.

They bandage him up tightly, he couldn’t have moved his joints if he wanted to, and already he can feel Lola’s warm intent, slowly knitting him back together. He’s starting to pass out when they bundle him up in the space blanket like a burrito, and when he laughs at that, he doesn’t have the ability to tell them why it’s funny. Marrow and magic bubble at the corners of his mouth as Sloan gathers him in close, holding him tightly.

Nightmare can’t hear what they’re doing, no, all he can hear is the fuzz of his hearing buzzing as he fights to stay awake. Sloan holds him tightly to her chest, her mouth pressed softly to his skull, whispering soft promises that he was safe, he’s okay.

She doesn’t flinch when the door to the room shatters, and the mages on the other side of it start to hammer at the barricade that Wine created; she doesn’t flinch when Felix, Lilith and Wine circle up and join hands, tossing a glass jar between them.

His vision swims and he lets his socket close, and he goes limp in Sloan’s arms. Her skin almost feels like it’s on fire she’s so warm against him, or maybe he’s so cold. He isn’t sure and allows himself to float in that warm haze in the safety of her arms.

Sloan watches him carefully, watches Nightmare, _her Nightmare_ , go limp and soft in her arms. He seems so small, so _fragile_ looking. Not just his body, thinner and smaller then even Sans, but he seems diminished. Like someone syphoned all the power from his body, leaving him brittle and broken, traumatized when he was already helpless.

Sloan laughs bitterly, because that had been exactly what they had done to him. She glances to the battle mages on the other side of Wine’s blockade, sees them hammering their way through the constructs angrily, and Sloan swallows hard, “How’s it going guys?”

Lilith steps away from where they’ve gathered, eyes burning brightly as she shoulders her M32, “Portals open. Get him home.”

Felix takes position on her other side, creating a wall, a _blockade_ between the other battle mages and their home. Lilith looks cold and ready to Felix’s excited and geared up, both ready to slaughter anything that dare come through the door, ready to protect what was there’s.

Wine’s suddenly by her side, his scared socket dead and cold, his remaining eye light only a hard-little circle in his stress, “I know your tired.” He tells her softly, his voice cordial and polite, “but we must go Sloan. If you please?”

She doesn’t realize her face is wet or that her nose is running. Wine is patient as ever, a firm, silent support, and Sloan gives him a watery smile. He’ll be a good mate to Felix, she thinks, “Thanks Wine.” She tightens her grip on Nightmare, almost afraid to put him down.

Wine gives her a patience smile, “Of course dear.” He helps her to her feet, gripping onto her elbow and encouraging her upwards.

He spins her away from the chaos as the Light Shade battle mages manage to break through Wine’s barricade. He doesn’t flinch, and neither does Sloan.

Not with Lilith and Felix acting as honor guard, shields better then anything a shield mage could manage, and the loud _dong_ as the M32 goes off brings a level of comfort to Sloan that she didn’t typically feel on the battlefield. They where safe, so long as her brother and sister where here.

Wine guides her to the portal, his hand on her lower back respectively, politely avoiding looking at Nightmare. He’s no fool, he knows Nightmare is proud and this will do more damage to his ego then anything else, but Wine gets it.

He wouldn’t want to be seen like this either.

Guiding her to the lip of the portal, Wine bends at the knees, crouching over the swirling opening like a small gargoyle overlooking a cathedral, “Are you ready Glass?”

Below, in the bright world of the mages, the infirmary is sparkling clean with soft beds, and Glass steps under the opening. He’s still looking bitter and sour faced, likely taking the hurt of not being told what he was to Lola sooner, and was taking it harder then he needed to.

Wine understood that too. He was hurt, a little, that Felix hadn’t told him, but he got it. Could look at their Crew and see that the mages had a world to keep safe. Rules to uphold, and they initially didn’t look to fit in with them.

It stung a little, but Wine got it, and would get over it.

Glass, well, he was going to need a gentle hand.

“Yeah, ‘m ready.” His voice is gruff and annoyed, but his orange eye lights gleam with worry. He can see Nightmare’s skull, poking up just over the shiny material of the space blanket, ivory smudged in grime and blood.

Wine isn’t the one to try to reassure him, no that was better left to Nightmare, or better yet, Lola. Instead he turned to Sloan, ignoring Glass’s mood and despite the overwhelming noise of Felix’s 12 gauge, he offers a gentle smile to Sloan, as if nothing was amiss. He took her by the elbow gently, encouraging her to sit with her legs dangling over the lip.

“Hang onto him, we’re going to lower you down.” Wine told her gently, taking in Sloan’s distraught expression, and she nods immediately. Wine offers another small smile as the M32 goes off again, and screams join the horrible canopy of noise.

He grips her soul gently, lowering her down to Glass’s waiting hands, settling her safely into his grip as he lowers her to the floor. The moment they’re clear, Nightmare safe on the other side of the portal, Lola is ushering them to a bed and Wine turns to the battle mages.

“He’s clear!” his tone is sharp and loud over the heavy gun fire.

With a nod from Lilith, Felix turns and bolts for him, moving as quickly as he can. He practically barrels into Wine, wrapping his heavily armored body around him, and with a laugh he steps through the unsteady portal.

Wine’s arms went around Felix’s waist and buried his face into his chest as they dropped into the infirmary, and Wine relaxed, felt _safe_ tucked against his battle mages chest. Bending his knees as they fall, Felix slots Wine’s tiny frame against his own to take all the impact from the fall.

He stands quickly tucking Wine behind him, feeling Lilith’s magic brush at his hands and he winces a little. She hadn’t been wrong when she told Wine that he was going to tare her magic out of him and replace it with his own. As soon as today _ended_ he was going to give Wine proper armor. Something more then just a desperate, quick bid to keep a Den mate safe. Proper armor, with his magical signature as a claiming.

Just in case.

Wine side steps him, coming to cover Felix’s flank, and something melts in his soul, something that’s quick to be hidden and shoved down. He’ll look at that later, when he’s not in a fight he’ll examine that soft and growing feeling.

Lilith’s M32 bangs again, loud and brutal, just before she steps back into the portal, blindly falling as she tucks the grenade launcher against her side, reaching for her rifle as her feet hit the ground, “Four incoming.” She told him coldly as the portal began to spiral shut.

Felix mimics her stance, his own rifle pulled tight to his shoulder and pointed at the weakening portal. They open fire at the sight of the first battle mage, blowing open her chest, and she falls back with a scream and a spray of blood from her mouth.

They keep firing, even as three clouds of start dust and magic swirl around the portal as it begins to close, the bullets zipping through them without injuring the mages in a trace. As the portal closes, earning a curse from Lilith, three battle mages slip through the shield and materialize in the infirmary.

One lands on the bed behind Lilith, another to Felix’s left, far too close to Wine for his liking, and the third smirking at Sloan and Lola.

They all froze, each sizing the other up, waiting for someone to make the first move, and they grit their teeth. Glass stills behind Lola, shoulders raising like hackles on a dog, and shield magic is sparking at her fingers. The infirmary is empty save them, but the hallway is clustered full of the others, too many targets, Felix knows, and he stiffens as anxiety rises.

It all happens so quickly and is over in seconds.

The battle mages near Nightmare turns, ever so slightly, a dark look in his expression as he takes in the anger from Lola, Sloan and Glass and he opens his mouth to say _something_ as his purple eyes fall to Nightmare. Nightmare’s still limp and weak in the bed, waking up a little as the mage goes to say something but he never gets the words out.

The first bone construct, sharp and bloody, that ripped through his body was brutal and unexpected, making him jerk in pain and blood dripped down his chin. He looked, shocked, to the door, to Sin, standing in the doorway with fury in his sockets and vicious intent. Yellow magic blazed at his right socket like fire, his control hand steady despite the faded bruising, and as the sunlight filtered through the window, casting the intruder in warm light, Sin sneers, “Get away from them.”

It’s all the battle mages need.

Lilith turns to the mage on the bed, sword suddenly summoned to her hand as she swings with brutal precision, the blade slicing through bone and muscle easily. Taking the mage out at the knees, as Sin stocked forward steady and angry, bone after bone, impaling the one who dare near his mates, a vicious attack that even Glass raises a brow at him.

The intruder stumbles back, blood a fine mist in the air as he cries out, but Sin doesn’t give up the attack, keeps pushing forward as the mage stumbles backwards and into the wall.

Felix laughs at the sudden chaos around him, is delighted to be on the offensive, delighted to see Wine sending spears of crimson bones up through another’s knee, sending him to the ground in a pool of his own blood. Chaos all around, and the demon purrs as he swings his heavy battle axe for the throat of the mage whose legs Lilith had cut off at the knee.

The axe slices through his throat easily, doesn’t even pause at the vertebra it nicks and the mages soul shatters as the pieces fall in a messy pile on the floor.

He laughs again, spinning like a top, doesn’t even need to see Lilith following him, knows that his sister is at his heels as they advance on the final battle mage who was dumb enough to follow them home.

He’s pinned to the floor by Wine, the bone constructs keeping him stuck through his knee, and as Lilith and Felix advance like hunting wolves, he tosses his arms up over his head and neck and _screams,_ “Mercy!”

Wine frowns as Lilith and Felix’s blades freeze inches from is body, both poised to kill, and they share a confused look that spoke volumes.

“Do we play by those rules anymore?” Felix wonders, whispers roughly to his sister.

Lilith shrugs, “I dunno.” she whispers back, glancing to Wine, “In the war, I would say to take him to whoever’s in charge.”

Felix blinks, “Lil, we’re the adults here.”

Lilith sighs, and the younger battle mage takes his chance. Dropping his armor, letting it turn to yellow dust as he lifts his hands. Lilith and Felix make bored noises even as behind them Sin is still impaling his Den mate with bone after bone, and Wine raises a brow, “Please!” he’s so painfully _young_ , and Wine would have guessed he was barely out of stripes, “Don’t kill me. I was helping my Den, we didn’t. I didn’t know. Please. I don’t want to die.”

Felix looks to Lilith immediately as she sighs, and slowly, hesitantly, lowers her blades. Behind them Sin is still firing sharpened bones with a wet noise into the other mage with vicious intent. Lilith ignores it as she glowers at the young mage before her, and she huffs another sigh.

“Wine, release him.” She orders, and he hesitates only long enough for Felix to give his nod of approval.

When he does, the young mage is nearly weeping with relief, “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Stop sniveling!” her eyes flashing crimson, “Get into the corner, over there, hurry up!”

The young mage looks to the corner, sees the one she’s ushering him to, and practically scrambles to get to it as quickly as he can, his leg healing as Lilith follows along like a drill sergeant, “Hurry the fuck up! Move!”

Felix snorts and relaxes as Lilith bullies him into the corner of the infirmary, reaching out to take Wine’s hand. The monster at his side relaxed when he feels Felix’s fingers threading through his, and he sighs, “Are you okay?”

Felix blinks, bloody and dirty, but grins brightly at Wine as Lilith tells the young battle mage that if he moves from this corner, she’ll kill him, “Yeah.” And Felix smiles softly at Wine, “Are you?” 

Wine nods as Lilith calls for Gore, Crow and Ripper, “Yeah. I am.”

Nightmare’s original trio amble in, looking amused by the carnage around them, and Felix grins, “Good.”

He’s still feeling a little anxious, about what, Felix wasn’t sure, but he didn’t fight when Wine reached up to grip his chest plate and pull him down. Felix went willingly with a deep chuckle, pressing his mouth to sharp teeth in a gentle, bloody kiss, and he ignores what Lilith is saying as he lets himself have a moment of peace, and feels his soul swell.

Rolling her eyes, Lilith shakes her head at her brother, amused how lovey he is with Wine already, but thinks Wine’s good for him.

She hides any amusement under a layer of ice as she glowers at the mage trembling in a ball in the corner of her infirmary. She licks her teeth, and addresses Crow, Gore and Ripper while still glaring at the mage, “He moves. Kill him.”

Two mirrored grins bloom over Ripper and Gore’s face. Ripper’s is still leaning hard on his cane, and Crow’s respirator puffs thick pink smoke in his amusement.

“Can we eat him?” Gore asks, earning a horrified look from the mage.

Lilith shrugs, looking indifferent, “Will it upset your brother?”

Gore nods, his grin bright, “Without a doubt.”

“Don’t let him see.” Lilith tells him, earning a bright grin as Gore crouches down, elbows to his knees and chin in his hands.

Lilith grins as she turns away when Gore says dreamily, “Oh, please move.” The grin in her expression doesn’t stay long. Not with the bloody mess in the infirmary, not with Nightmare dying and Sin having a break down. 

Sin finally stills at the end of the bed breathing hard as the mages soul shatters and the body falls against the wall, slumping to the ground. Lilith relaxes as the last threat is eliminated, they have a mess to clean, but they’re all alive, and that’s what matters.

Sans is by her side in a beat, she’s so used to him shortcutting in and out of her space, that she doesn’t startle. He takes her hand, linking their fingers when he asks, “You with me?”

Lilith relaxes, bloody and dirty, but she grins down at him, “Yeah. I’m with you.” Earning a grin from Sans. They’re home, and they’re safe, and that’s all that really matters to Sans.

The wet, pained noise from Sin draws their attention, and the grin falls from Lilith’s expression. Cold settles over her again, and she takes a breath as she watches Sin. He’s staring at Nightmare as Lola carefully moves him from the space blanket to a bed, limp and far too still. Sin’s sockets are wide and full of pain with his mouth open, and all the furious anger is gone in the face of Nightmare’s hurt.

Sin stares at Nightmare’s broken and bare body, looking so fucking small with his dark soul pulsing with light. His own soul twists with hurt, with pain that Nightmare is looking so vulnerable, so fragile on the bed. He looks so small, and Sin just can’t get over how much bulk his magic actually took up, that he almost looks delicate.

He’s making gasping little wet noises, and his ivory bones look chalky with stress. Sloan is by his side speaking to him in a hushed voice, holding his hand tightly, her lips moving against the side of his skull as her other hand lays over his forehead, her thumb brushing at the ivory bone.

As if a hook had been pierced through his soul, Sin is helpless but to blindly move to them, coming to drop down beside Sloan on his knees, as Lola takes his other hand and begins to pour healing magic into his ruined wrist. There’s so much damage, so much hurt done in such a short amount of time, someone had been cruel enough to rip him apart as quickly as they could.

His socket is squeezed shut, and his fingers curl weakly around Sloan’s hand, and Sin feels horror rise in this throat when he stares at the other socket, usually covered and hidden, and the _old_ damage there. Someone had hurt him, taken the sight from that socket, and Sin feels a mixture of anger and hurt rise in his throat.

He wonders, as he reaches out slowly to lay his hand flat over Nightmare’s sternum, if anyone had ever shown him a molecule of kindness, had anyone ever had his back, unquestioningly? The damaged socket said that, no, not likely.

Nightmare flinches as Sin touches him, his socket opening weekly and his eye light hazy, nearly guttering out. He’s on the verge of passing out again, fighting against his bodies need to rest, and he presses into Sloan’s hand. Still too stubborn for his own good, still won’t ask for what he wants or needs.

Sloan squeezes his hand, earning a crooked grin from him, and Sin wonders if she could read minds. Or, if she was just really good at what she did. Either way, Sin presses his hand a little more firmly into his bare sternum, and when Nightmare sighs in relief, Sin thinks his soul is going to bottom out.

“Hey Nights.” He offers softly, the first words he’s spoken to Nightmare since their fight, and Nightmare blinks owlishly at him, as if he’s having a hard time placing him.

For a brief, horrifying moment, Sin’s terrified he’s about to be told off, that those cruel words are going to come back tenfold, and Sin doesn’t think he could bare it. Not right now, not when Nightmare was broken and bleeding on an infirmary bed.

Yet, he blinks away the fuzz from his mind, and when he grins, Sin isn’t sure he’s ever seen Nightmare look so soft. So _happy_ to see anyone, and maybe it was the corruption that made it harder for him to show joy, but with it locked into his soul, there’s nothing to hinder his grin now. It’s bright, and almost innocent, and Sin is helpless but to reflect it back.

He wonders if this was who Nightmare was before the corruption.

“I’m sorry.” His words are slurred, and it makes something in Sin’s chest cave in.

“Don’t.” Sin’s voice creeks, and he clears his throat, “You don’t need to.”

Nightmare shakes his head, wincing when it hurts, “I do. Couldn’t before.” He swallow’s, and Sin winces when even that looks like it hurts, “Couldn’t get the words out. Sorry.”

Sin feels his throat go thick, and he grips at Sloan’s elbow. She pushes back into his hand for support as Nightmare blinks slowly at them, “Didn’t mean it. Shouldn’t ‘ve said it.” His words run together, and Nightmare focuses hard, struggling to stay awake, “Was mean.”

Something soft and warm fills Sin’s chest, an unnamed emotion that warmed him to his core, and he offers Nightmare a hesitant grin, “Shut up Nightmare. We’ll talk about it later, when you’re not dying.”

Nightmare gives him a grin, and his eye light nearly gutters out, “Make me.”

Sloan snorts a watery noise, and there is clearly a joke that Sin is missing out on. Yet, when Sloan goes to explain, she’s interrupted by Lola.

“I’m sorry,” she says to them, nervous and afraid, her hand wrapped gently around his spine as she pours healing into him, “We need to get the shards out of his soul. We don’t know what kind of damage this will do to him.”

The grin falls from Nightmare’s expression, and Sin mourns its loss. He wouldn’t have minded seeing that softer smirk a little while longer.

Sin sinks his fingers between Nightmare’s ribs, almost possessively, in a vague attempt to keep him safe. It’s too late, Sin thinks bitterly to himself, he already let Nightmare get hurt. His own expression sours, and his chest feels tight.

Sloan nods to her sister, “Thanks Lola. Go get Lilith. We’ll get him ready.”

Lola nods and is gone, leaving them alone with Nightmare, and Sin feels his soul hurt at the fear that twists Nightmare’s expression. Sin knows its going to _hurt_ to pull those all out, and Nightmare’s already feeling raw. Afraid even, and something twists Sin’s soul.

“Hey.” He says as gently as he dares to, drawing out the milky eye light, and Sin nearly chokes on Nightmare’s dread, “We’re right here.”

Nightmare blinks at him, slow and careful, before he nods, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Sin echoes back, his thumb brushing along the edge of a rib, “You’re okay.” He tells Nightmare weakly.

Sloan swallows and let’s go of Nightmare to pull something out of her inventory. It’s a jar of sickly green liquid, that seems to boil in Sloan’s hands, “Nights,” he looks over to Sloan, the same expression of devastation on his face, and she offers a helpless smile, “I want you to drink a sleeping draught. It’ll knock you out and you’ll sleep through the whole thing.”

“Sleep?” Nightmare asks roughly, voice small that its lost to the others in the noise of the room.

The anxiety in his voice makes Sin’s soul hurt all the more, and he hates how afraid Nightmare is, “We’ll be here the whole time.” He’s quick to reassure, to back up Sloan, “We’ll keep you safe.” He coaxed gently, “We’ll protect you.”

Nightmare gives in so quickly; it hurts Sin in ways he can’t explain. That he’s so tired, so _exhausted_ that he’s willing to put himself in a vulnerable position again without a fight. He’s trusting Sloan and Sin to keep him safe, and Sin swears he’ll murder anything that comes for them.

“You’ll stay?” he askes quietly, and he seems so _young,_ “The whole time?”

They nod, and Sin finds his voice, “Promise. The whole time. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Relief is tangible in his expression, and Sin grips a little tighter to his ribs, his own soul singly weakly, warbling comfort to Nightmare’s. He’s not used to that yet, but maybe now he can practice.

Nightmare drinks the potion, doesn’t complain when its like ice slipping down his throat and fights the effects almost instantly.

“I don’t like this.” He slurs heavily as Sloan carefully pulls the empty jar away and tucks it back into her inventory. She takes his hand again, nodding, “I know Nights, I know. Don’t fight it. Go to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up.” She promises quietly.

Sin nods, settling in beside Sloan, leaning into her side, pressing his hand to Nightmare’s sternum.

“Go to sleep Nights.” Sin encourages quietly, offering a watery smile, “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

It kills him to say it, hates that Nightmare is so hurt, knows he shouldn’t ever be like this. Nightmare is larger then life, a demi god, _the_ guardian of negativity. He isn’t small and helpless, but he is, and its up to them to keep him safe.

Nightmare lets out a shuttering sigh, trusts in Sloan and Sin, and lets his socket sink shut, “Missed you two.” He muttered as he gave into Sloan’s sleeping draught.

Once he’s out, he misses Sin break. Misses the wet, hurt noise that spills passed his teeth, misses him bow over his bed and cling to him. He misses how Sloan, still clinging to his hand, leans over Sin to hold on to him just as fiercely.

He misses how they both quietly promise, tears streaming down their faces in grief, that they won’t allow anything to touch him again.

Nightmare misses all of it and gives into the potion. At last, he finally rests, gets some real sleep and knows he’s safe.

Knows that Sin and Sloan won’t let anything happen to him, because they love him.

Finally, with warmth in his soul that has nothing to do with the light shards and everything to do with his mates, Nightmare sleeps.


	34. When the Dust Settles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Nightmare wakes up in the infirmary, and not bolted to a table, he thinks he might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Happy Friday, I hope your all doing well. I found out this week that my work schedule will be changing again, and I will likely be going back to Monday to Friday, which means my update schedule will change. I'm not 100% sure when this will happen, but it will likely happen in the next month or so, meaning my updates will be happening on Saturdays now. 
> 
> As to this chapter, I'm really happy how it turned out, its such a different pace from the last few chapters and I hope you enjoy it. There has been an update to the tags, so please read through those and see the warnings here as well. THIS WILL BE A SLIGHTLY SMUTTY CHAPTER. 
> 
> If this is not your thing, don't the last third of this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: smut, lemony goodness. Sex after injury and traumatic events, but its slow and careful. Sex as a coping method. BUT ALSO consumption of a soul, minor discussion of murder of civilian/children, discussion of crimes committed, discussion of prison time and serves. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Waking up in the mage’s infirmary is a vastly different experience than waking up in the surgical ward. Pain wasn’t licking through his body anymore, not like it had been. He was still sore. Stiff as all hell, like he was one big bruise, like when he was a child and fell out of the tree.

In those days, his brother would laugh and carefully heal his battered bones, telling him to be more careful. In those long-gone days, Nightmare would have chuckled as well, smiling at his brother and hope to do better the next day.

Nightmare never could seem to get it together for his brother or the village. Never enough for either of them, and for a long time the tree was his only friend. At least, until the Frisk of his world finally surfaced, and he was almost happy for a while. The kid made him laugh, she wasn’t afraid of him, never blamed him, even a broken corrupted bastard like him.

That was a long time ago, and Nightmare was certain he’d never be that happy again.

He’s not wrong often, but he’s thrilled he was wrong about that.

The infirmary bed was stiffer then Sloan’s, but it was warm, and more comfortable then the metal slab he had been bolted to. His body still hurts, his joints are stiff, but it’s not the same agony burning through him from before.

He’s pulled tight against a firm chest, hard and flat, and there’s a thin arm wrapped around his shoulders, curling up to cup his skull. He can feel whoever was holding him, Sin, Nightmare hoped, is scratching lightly at the back of his skull. Its relaxing, soothing, and Nightmare relaxed further into the hold.

At his back is a warm line of another body, soft against him and he _hopes_ its Sloan’s arm that circles his waist. Her hand is against the bottom part of his ribs, her fingers scratching lightly at his bones. Her face is pressed lightly against the back of his neck, her breath warm on his naked body, and he sighs softly. It’s…nice. To be held like this.

Their cuddling in close, tight on the narrow bed that isn’t really meant for three people, but they’re clinging to each other as tightly as they’re clinging to him, and Nightmare is _relieved._ He’s home, and that above all else, is what’s important.

He squirms in their arms a little with a sudden burst of energy that burned through him, and he peeled opened his socket. His face was pressed into a soft black t-shirt, his cheek squished in against a hard chest, moving with every soft breath.

Waiting until his vision clears, sharpening into focus, he looks up into Sin’s bright yellow eye lights and crooked grin. Nightmare feels his soul skip a beat staring up into his pretty face, the bruising finally fading to light yellow. It would be gone in a few more days, but Nightmare still thinks he’s the prettiest skeleton he’s ever seen.

Sin sighs a breath of relief, his hand moving to cup Nightmare’s smooth cheek, his thumb brushing under his socket in an endearing, gentle movement that makes something warm in Nightmare’s soul. Sin’s grin grows a little wider, “Hey. How are you feeling?”

He gives in, a little, pressing his cheek into Sin’s long hand in a moment of weakness, and soaks it in, “Sore.” He tells him gruffly, his socket half lidded, “Alive.”

Sin’s grin softens, and he leans forward, pressing his mouth to his in a tender, careful kiss and Nightmare is certain that no one has kissed him like that before. Like he _mattered_ to them. His socket sinks shut, and he enjoys it, takes it in and knows how close he was to losing this.

“I’m glad your home.” Sin whispered carefully against his mouth, softly, trying not to ruin the moment.

Nightmare grins against his mate with a sigh, “Me too.” He pauses, hesitates as the familiar fear shutters through his soul, and just before the wedge chokes him out again, he pushes through it, “I’m sorry. Sin, I’m so sorry.”

“Nights.” Sin sighs, looking a little hurt.

“No.” he cuts in quickly, feels Sloan shift against his spine, her breath warm on the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, and I shouldn’t have said it. It was cruel, and I was…” he runs out of steam, looking for the right word, and he feels Sloan smile against his neck.

“You were an ass?” Sloan offers, the smile against his bone softening her words when she didn’t have to.

Sin gives her a painfully fond look over his shoulder, leaning over him to press a quick kiss to her head, “I was going to say he’s a shit, but ass works too.”

“I won’t say either of you are wrong.” And he grins into Sin’s chest and misses the warmth when he pulls away from Sloan to sit up, looking back down at Nightmare. Looking up at Sin, the grin falls from Nightmare’s mouth, “I am sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” He promised softly.

There’s a moment, there and gone quickly, that Sin’s eye lights are little hearts and wetness lines his sockets, “Thanks Nights.” He chokes out quietly, “I appreciate you apologizing.” The hearts fade away, and Sin chuckles softly, “But you don’t need to make it up to me. You apologized. You don’t have to do anything else.”

He does, he really does, and even if Sloan joked that all he had to do was survive, it wasn’t enough. He would make it up to them, he would.

He hummed softly, reaching up to brush his thumb along Sin’s jaw line, frowning at the bandaged, ivory hand that reaches for Sin’s chin, and he sighs, “I didn’t think I would ever see this body again.” He lets go of Sin, stretching his arm out to spread his fingers, his wrist bandaged tightly in soft green gauze. He feels Lola’s healing intent soaking into his body, soothing and warm, slowly knitting him back together.

Sin hums, catching his hand again, nuzzling his teeth into Nightmare’s fingers, “I think this body is cute as hell.”

He blinks up at Sin, his face scalding at being called _cute_ , is sure no one has ever thought of him as cute before, and he feels Sloan shift, her mouth against his throat. She presses a kiss to his bones, and presses tighter to his spine, her arm curled around his ribs, “I think your cute as all hell too.”

Nightmare thinks he might die, these two might kill him with their actual kindness, “Do you think you would still like me, without my power?” his voice is unusually small, and Nightmare is going to blame the trauma for that. He’s still raw from it all, shaky and hurt, and he’s blaming that.

Sin shares a worried look with Sloan over his skull, and Sin nudges him further down while Sloan pulls him so he’s flat on his back between them. Sloan is to one side, looking tired and pale from lack of magic, leaning into her arm, and her chin propped in her hand as she watches him with a gentle smile. Sin is on his other side, leaning on both of his elbows, and they box him in between them.

Panic and fear burst from his damaged soul, and he automatically braces for rejection. He readies himself to be abandoned again, despite the reassuring smiles over him, and the happiness that makes him a little nauseous even when directed at _him_.

“Nights.” Sloan starts softly, his nickname easing tenderness back into his soul, and her smile is genuine despite how tired she looks, “We don’t like you for your power. We love you, for you.”

He and Sin froze at her words, and Nightmare can see the moment she realizes what she said, her already exhausted face turning pale with shock, and she stared at them wide eyed. 

His brow furrows, “You love me?” he asks, voice small, and Sin looks like he’s about to shatter. Like he’s going to run the moment Sloan says no.

“That depends.” Sloan tells them slowly, hesitantly, and Nightmare can feel the tension coiling in her body, and he mourns the loss of softness from her.

“On what?” he asks quietly, a little coldly, and he can feel that same tension coiling in Sin. Its like they’re both about to bolt, afraid of what he’s going to say.

“Are you going to lose your shit?”

Something heavy is dropped from his chest, a weight of fear he didn’t know he was carrying. Maybe it’s the Den magic, or maybe it’s Sloan and Sin, but Nightmare _doesn’t_ lose his shit, “No.” he pauses, glances to Sin and takes a breath, “I don’t know how to love.” He’s never been shown, are the words he doesn’t say, can’t say.

“That’s okay.” Sloan whispers, and his soul pulses at the softness of her voice, accepting in a way that no other had, “We can figure it out.”

He nods helplessly, sees Sloan glance to Sin, and looks to him as well, knows what she’s going to say and Nightmare wants to see his expression, “I love you too.”

Nightmare is grateful to see Sin’s face light up, to see his pretty features soften and a blush scald his face. To see his eye lights flicker to light little hearts in pure adoration, “I love you too.” He whispered back to her, voice small like he’s afraid the truth will startle her, and Nightmare was delighted to see that soft, happy expression.

It’s a delicate, gentle moment that nearly killed him to get here, but he’s delighted to have survived. He’s _happy_ that he got to keep this, and when he watches Sloan brush a kiss to Sin’s mouth, the tension leaks from both of them, leaving them relaxed and tired looking.

“You should both sleep.” He tells them when they break their kiss, “You both look tired.”

Sloan snorts, and he’s grateful to hear it from her, better then the panic or anger he’s been feeling from her the last few days, “That’s what happens when you curse a bitch and turn her inside out.”

Nightmare blinks up at her, pushing into Sin’s hand when he lays one over his ribs, “That’s what you did to her?”

Sloan grins, cruel and dark, and it makes something warm pulse through him. He knows his girl is a dark, vicious spell caster, and she’s _his._

He was hers, just as much.

Nightmare laughs, high and bright, startling them both with how delighted it was, drawing a slow smile to both of their faces, “Sloan, My Star, that is savage.”

She blinks at him, smiling oddly shy at being called _his Star_ , and shrugged, “Well, they fucked with my mate. That wasn’t going to stand.” She grinned, nudging Sin, “And you should’ve seen Sin shank the shit outta that battle mage that followed us home.”

Nightmare grins up at Sin’s scalding blush, and Nightmare’s hand fell to Sin’s and squeezed, “Of course he did. Sin is _my_ assassin, a force to be reckoned with.” It fluffs up Sin’s bruised and beaten ego, as much a claiming as it was when he called Sloan his Star.

Sin seems bashful, and it takes Nightmare a moment to realize that he likes it. He _likes_ that Nightmare has laid claim on him, believed in him. He liked that Nightmare thinks he’s a bad ass, despite all that’s happened.

“It was nothing.” He scratches at the back of his neck, looking shy.

“Bad ass.” Sloan reassures, making Nightmare grin.

She sighs, and lays down next to him, Sin mimicking her position and they curled in on either side of him, settling down to go back to sleep. “Besides, Nights,” Sloan tells him suddenly, sounding tired, “You don’t need to worry about your powers. They’re coming back.”

He glances to her as she reaches down to his waist, her fingers brushing at the long black t-shirt, that he suddenly realizes belongs to Sin, _~~and fuck, if that doesn’t do something to him, warms something in his body. He likes this, being claimed by both Sin and Sloan, and him wearing Sin’s clothing is a claiming. Now that he realizes that this belongs to Sin, he can smell his soap, his cologne, and Nightmare’s watery, weak magic swirls in his pelvis. He was too tired, too weak to do anything about it, but Nightmare enjoys the feeling non the less.~~_

Sloan’s fingers grip the bottom of the _~~delightfully smelling~~_ shirt and pulled it up passed his ribs, and when Nightmare looks down, his broken soul swelled with delight and sheer _hope._ His spine and ribs were dripping with thick, black magic, oozing wetly down towards his pelvis and he laughs out loud at seeing his _body_ repairing itself.

He reaches out weakly to touch the cool oily ooze, and something wet drips down his cheek. Sloan drops his shirt and gently smudges his tears away, her voice gentle as Sin nuzzled into the underside of his chin, “Felix figures that your magic retreated into your soul to protect it when it was assaulted.” She told him gently, “It’ll just take time for it to spiral out of your soul to return your body to how it was. Just rest, you’ll feel better by the time you wake up.”

He nods helplessly, feels overwhelmed, nearly choked with emotion that he doesn’t know entirely how to manage. Sin and Sloan are quick to curl back into him, wrapping their arms around him, allowing him to cling to them both, and he buries his face into Sin’s shoulder.

They sooth him gently, as everything of the last twenty-four hours comes crashing down. The kidnapping, the torture, the possible loss of his magic, it all suddenly slammed into him. How weak he is now, and that he’s going to get his power _back, ~~and he’s going to fucking protect Sin and Sloan with it, so help him.~~_ It all became overwhelming in the after math of his trauma, and Nightmare thinks he can be forgiven for a little break down.

His throat feels tight and his breath hitches with every little sip of air. He clings to Sin and Sloan, soaking in all their affection and soft words. He embraces their weight over him, the feeling of their bodies pressed into his, and Nightmare gets what he wants for once.

He clings to his lovers as they calm him down, sooth him in a way he was never soothed before, and he _calms_.

Nightmare falls back asleep, clinging to Sin and Sloan, eased and loved, and feels better, _good,_ for the first time in a very long time.

Nightmare gets what he wants, is cherished, _adored_ here, and he’s okay with that, he decided. With a shaky breath, he drifts back into sleep in Sin and Sloan’s arms, and knows he’s safe and in a good place.

He knows that he loves them too, and he’s going to find a way to tell them.

Maybe he’ll write them a letter.

-

Nightmare jerks back awake in what must be the early morning hours of the day, the sun has barely risen and the muted light filters weakly through the window of the infirmary. He’s still exhausted, should probably sleep longer to recover his strength, but Sin getting out of bed woke him.

He shifts under the sheet, his socket opening weakly, his eye light defused. He feels oddly _dense_ , compared to how he was feeling before, and when he lifts his hands, he almost laughs with relief when ebony bones of one greet him. He can’t quite explain the feeling of sheer satisfaction at seeing his body, _his real body,_ like a balm to his battered soul.

His hands fall to his chest, taking a breath, and enjoys the feeling of his chest move with rippling magic. He takes a moment to just enjoy the feeling before he shoves it down to look at later, when he has time. He’s going to relish this feeling with Sin and Sloan, once he’s sure they’re all safe.

Pushing himself up, Nightmare leans back on his hands, wincing a little at the one that’s still ivory and naked. It still hurts at the joints, and the dull pain pulses in time with his soul but its weak enough that he can brush the discomfort away. He’s hurt worse then this in the past.

He scowls around the room, his head throbbing with exhaustion as the sheet pools around his waist, and he takes a moment to get his vision to clear to sharpness. He’s still wearing Sin’s clothes, can still smell the delightful spice of his cologne, and from where it’s ridden up a little he can see the ivory of his lower spine and the tops of his hips.

He frowns when he realizes that it’s only his left arm and chest that’s returned to normal, and it’s going to take time for his body to revert. With a sigh, he looks up to Sin’s back, he’s sitting up and stiff, shoulders coiled with tension as he stares at the door.

It takes Nightmare a hazy moment to realize he’s not the only one tense and still, like they’re waiting for a fight to start.

Glass and Red are standing by the door, hands curled into fists, Edge just behind them both, standing in the middle of the room in front of his bed, and the four of them are shielding him from any threat. Sans is at Edge’s elbow, eye light swirling with blue magic, diluted like blood in the water. His trio of boys, Gore, Crow and Rips, were still glaring hungrily at the captured mage, and Gore is licking his teeth.

Wine is behind Edge, standing between the door and Coffee, and Nightmare realizes that the mages are all gone, “What’s going on?”

Sin doesn’t turn to him, but he does reach back, gripping at his wrist and squeezing tightly, “Don’t know.” He says in a hushed voice, “Something triggered the outer perimeter spells, somethings coming.”

Nightmare pauses, and blinks at the back of his skull, “Triggered the what?” his brains still feels fuzzy, like he isn’t firing on all cylinders.

“Perimeter spells.” Sin tells him again, and Nightmare can hear the _duh_ , and he almost smiles at that, almost smiles that Sin is starting to act like himself again, “It alerted Sloan to the fact that somethings here, but we don’t know what it is.”

Nightmare’s head tilts, and he grounds his teeth when he realizes this is a defensive line build for _him_. It’s an odd feeling, to be the one behind it and not leading the charge, but something softens when he realizes that his boys _do_ care. Care enough to keep him safe, protected, from an unknown threat.

He flips his hand to grip at Sin’s wrist, and his back bubbles but he’s still too weak to fully form his tentacles, and they’re not even nubs at his back. He snarls, hates his own weakness, his own fatigue. He hates that he can’t protect himself never mind Sin and the others.

Shallow footsteps in the hall make everyone stiffen, ratcheting up the anxiety as strain coils through each of them just before Lilith and Felix slide into the room, and there’s a breath of relief. Everyone relaxes near instantly, and even Nightmare breathes a small sigh when they slip back into the infirmary.

Felix makes for his bed, dropping back into it, dragging Wine down with him to snuggle back in with him. Hesitantly, he reaches for Coffee, pulling him down on his other side, cuddling into them both. Nightmare relaxes, knows that Felix wouldn’t stand down if there was even a hint of a threat.

“It’s just Coven leaders.” Felix told them just before he actually _yawned_ like he was bored.

Sans relaxed, his eye lights dulling back to white as he sits back on the corner of his bed, “Great. Is it a good one?”

The others relax as well, standing down one by one as Felix hums and waves his hand to indicate so-so, “It’s Evie. She served under us in the war, she’s alright.”

From the corner, eyes still crimson, Lilith snorts, “Sure she is.” she told them quietly, turning her attention to their captive, “Alright you, get up.”

Her tone is cold as ice, emotionless that it almost doesn’t sound like her and Nightmare finds himself missing what little inflection she did have.

The man looks nervously to his trio, smart man, to not put his trust in their shaky control. Lilith waves them off, “Stand down boys.” She tells them quietly, “Go to bed. We’ve made a deal.”

Ripper looks up at her the same time the man does, and when Lilith grins, its something cold, “I do sure hope your worth it.” Her head tilts and her grin grows cruel, “You’re Coven is very unhappy with you.” She tells him mildly.

His eyes go wide as Lilith grips his shoulder and hauls him to his feet, “What do you mean?”

She shoves him forward towards the door, making him stumble past the trio, “Your Coven is returning the Blood of Merlin to us in exchange for you. Very powerful stuff, like napalm.” She shrugs, “And now its ours. So, as I’ve said, I sure do hope you were worth the sacrifice for your Coven.”

The man’s eyes widen, and his face goes pale. Nightmare may not understand why that’s important, but it seems to be a big deal to the mages.

Gore, doesn’t look impressed, “So, I can’t eat him?”

Lilith frowns, softening towards her Den mate and pulls a chocolate bar from her inventory, handing it to him, “Sorry kiddo. Can’t eat him, but we’re getting something pretty powerful in his place.” She gives him an almost sad frown, like she’s disappointed that she disappointed him, “Maybe next time.”

Gore pouts but opens his candy non the less as Lilith shoves the mage out the door, and into the dark hallway, disappearing from their sight.

Gore sulks and settles down on the floor, “Man, I wanted a thigh.” He sighs sadly, leaning into Crow, eating his candy bar.

“Lilith said maybe next time.” Crow tells him gruffly, taking Gore’s weight with ease, making Nightmare snort. He doesn’t doubt it for a moment that Lilith would let him eat a mage, if it made him happy.

Crow huffs, glancing across the room to Nightmare before pushing his shoulders back, “We’re staying here until the leaders are gone.” He says suddenly, and to no one in particular, and settles in. Nightmare isn’t foolish enough to not know that Crow is staying on his account, because there are strangers in their home, and Nightmare is hurt.

Crow is staying just in case, is willing to hurt others and burn away what was left of his soul to keep Nightmare safe. It’s loyalty that was hard won, but it’s still makes him feel soft and uncertain about it.

Nightmare frowns when he hears voices and soft footsteps outside the hall, and relaxes when he thinks he hears Sloan. Ripper settles in with Crow and Gore, palming his cane with a grin, “Yeah, we’re staying till they go home.” He grins, wide and amused, “Just in case.”

Nightmare rolls his azure eye light, sentimental brats, but they’re his brats and he’s not sure he’s felt such fondness for them before, quietly knowing it wasn’t just all the shard in his soul. The last of the unease leaks from them all when Sloan comes back into the infirmary with Lola and Lilith.

Slumping back into the bed, his back to the wall, he gives her a wide grin, and nods. There’s a brief smile from her, soft and kind, before it falls as a tall, proud looking woman steps into the infirmary behind them. 

She’s wearing a black pant suit and a sharp jacket with bright red heels. Under her arm is a clipboard, and her ebony hair is pulled neatly into a bun. Her smile is gentle and amused, and Nightmare isn’t sure what to make of Evie.

Behind her, two more mages step into the infirmary, heavily armored battle mages, and clearly Evie’s Den mates. They crowd in close to her back, eyes narrowed with bodies drawn tight compared to Evie’s relaxed posture. They’d kill for her, Nightmare knew, would die for her, just like any of the mages would for them.

Felix appeared to be unbothered by them, sprawling in the bed with Wine and Coffee, but Nightmare didn’t doubt for a moment that if any of them made an aggressive move towards them, he’d be on his feet and lethal in a moments notice. He’d seen how the battle mages fought, knew how quickly they could become dangerous, if they needed.

Lilith didn’t seem to be near as relaxed as she stood with her spine straight, eyes narrowed and hard, staring down the mages at Evie’s back. Unafraid, and ready to get into a fight with her own Coven’s battle mages for them, if she needed to.

Evie seems unbothered by the frosty reception from Pandora, and smiles gently to Sloan, “So these are your Den mates?”

Her voice is soft and kind, and it coils something vicious through Lilith tighter.

Evie nods, glancing around the room with the grin, “Excellent. Well done.” Lilith rolls her eyes, “I’m delighted for you. You deserved to find your Den, I’m happy for you.”

“I’m sure you are.” Lilith’s tone is frosty, but none of the others react to it, and Nightmare keeps his socket on Sloan. He carefully watches at how she doesn’t react beyond a patient smile, and he mimics her calm energy.

Evie’s bright smile falls a little, “Lilith,” she almost sounds hurt, drawing those cold, crimson orbs to her, “I _know_ the Coven has not done right by you.” Behind her Sans snorts, “And it wasn’t fair.”

Felix sits up, eyes narrowed and its like ice chills the muggy air as Evie continues, “It _wasn’t._ You were ostracized from our Coven, turned into ghost stories that parents still tell their children when they misbehave. Its not right, what was done to your reputation.”

Lilith’s eyes narrow when Evie glances to Nightmare, and he feels his body stiffen. He’s still weak, hurt, and he can’t help the Den in a fight. “I come with a peace offering.” She tells them softly, “An olive branch, if you will.”

Sloan’s head tilts, and she frowns but not unkindly, “And what could you possibly give to us?” its not cruelly said or thrown in her face. Sloan sounds genuinely curious, and it makes Evie relax.

“Ryder informed us of Nightmare’s, uh,” and she pauses, frowning a little as if looking for the right words, “Specific diet.” The others tense, like steel has been wound through each of them, and magic sparks at Lilith’s fingers.

“I’m not here to judge!” Evie says quickly, her hand reaching out to grasp her own Den mate by the elbow and yanking him back when he went to take a step forward, “Not at all, I’m simply stating a fact.”

She sighs again, and clears her throat, “I’m not here to start anything. I know who you all are, I served with each of you in the war. Heck, there is not a mage in this room who has not saved my life at least once. And,” she pauses, as if afraid what she says next will upset the unsteady peace, “I know each of you turned down a position to be a Coven leader.” Lilith makes an angry noise, but Evie persists calmly, “And I know I served _under_ you, and I know I should have done more to protect you when I was promoted. I didn’t, and for that, I am _sorry_.”

Her battle mage Den mates shift at her back uncomfortably, and even Lilith thaws a little, loosening as Evie continues, “And I’m trying to do better. I’m not a young mage just promoted to the rank of Coven leader anymore, and I was one of the most vocal in support about you keeping the Trillium Moon in your territory.”

Lilith’s eyes glance to Sloan, who nods yes in confirmation and Nightmare sits up a little straighter, taking in as much information as he could. This was important, this was vital information for their continued survival.

“We are supposed to look out for one another. Den, Coven, territory.” She ticks off each word with a finger, “We’ve forgotten that, and you _are_ apart of our Coven. You are _Revolut_ mages, and you’re one of us. We forget that, because we forced you to be independent, but sometimes you need us too.”

She pauses, as if expecting disputes, but Lilith and Sloan nod, because yes, they could have used their Coven’s help for a lot more.

“So.” Evie ventured carefully, “I’m here to help my Coven mate.” She glances to Nightmare and offers a hesitant smile to his dower expression and her grip on the clipboard tightens. He has no idea what he must look like, his true magic slowly growing over his battered body, still a foot in each world. Corruption and light, and he feels all the worse to be in such a predicament. “And we _are_ Coven mates,” she tells him, “Regardless of mage or monster.”

She looks back to Sloan and Lilith, “Everyone involved has been sworn to secrecy. It’s all members of the Coven, and everyone of them were happy to help you.” Evie gives a little, sad shrug, “I wish we could help more, but this can’t be a regular thing. If the other Covens ever found out, it would lead to issues.” She told them gently, and Nightmare watches how Sloan and Lilith share a confused look. 

Lilith’s head tilts, her eyes narrowed and cold, “Evie, what are you talking about?”

Evie gives her a patient look and a careful grin, like she’s about to tell them a little piece of gossip that she’s dying to share, “Let me show you.”

She turns to her battle mages and nods to a wall, and Nightmare watches as she’s handed a potion that looks like the same one Sloan used to get to him. Her battle mages flank her, making Nightmare’s mages frown and their brows furrow as they watch their Coven mates press a hand onto the bare wall and reach for Evie.

She tosses the potion to the wall, the glass shattering but no shards fall to the ground as she takes their hands. The potion pulls magic from their souls to rip open a portal into their wall, leading into what looks like a small, empty reception.

The room is dark and dim, but Nightmare sees how Sloan, Lola and Felix stiffen, and Lilith takes a step back towards Sans with narrowed eyes. Evie turns, hands up in surrender, her clip board tucked under her arm, “Please! It’s okay,” she’s quick to reassure as a large man steps into view, “We’re here to help.”

No one relaxes until the man steps through the portal, he’s nearly as tall and broad as Ryder, with bright, orange hair and a full beard. His smile when he sees Lilith and Sloan is bright and kind, and when he speaks, his Scottish accent is thick and a bit hard for Nightmare to follow, “Oi! Lilith!” he booms, making Nightmare flinch at how loud he is.

He stomps into the room, and even his walking is loud, to scoop Lilith up in a bone crushing hug. His thick arms go around her upper body tightly, lifting her off her feet in a crushing hug that forces all the air from her lungs.

He puts her down with an _off_ from her, and she’s a little wheezy when she grins at him, “Hey Greer, how are the kids?”

Greer beams at her, booming and delighted, “Good! Getting big, my eldest is a spell caster!” he tells her with pride, his bright purple eyes glance behind her, and his grin got impossibly wider, “Lilith!” he gasps, “Is that your boyfriend! The one we’ve all been hearing ‘bout? Sans?”

Nightmare _relaxes_ , and grins when he sees Lilith puff up in pride and relax, head tilted back as her spine straightened. Behind her Sans shrinks down, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looks down bashfully. Yet, Lilith’s voice is full of pride when she says, “Yeah, this is my boyfriend Sans.”

Greer makes a high-pitched _squeal_ that someone his size shouldn’t be able to make and looks absolutely delighted to meet Sans, like meeting his hero. The big mage offers his hand to Sans, his smile bright and his intent impossibly kind, “Nice ta meet ya Sans! I’m Greer of the Dover North Den of the Revolut Coven.”

Greer tells him with pride in his voice, delight clear, and Sans glances to Lilith before he takes Greer’s hand, making his expression light up in joy, “Uh. Sans. Sans the Skeleton of Pandora.” He stumbles over his words, and Lilith gives him a fond look, “Of um. The Revolut Coven.”

Greer makes an excited noise, “I’ve heard so much about you from Felix.” He lets go of Sans’s hand carefully, crossing his arms over his chest, beaming at the monster, “Ya broke a good many warriors heart when Lilith claimed ya. A few of my mates were just _gutted_ when Lilith laid claim. But I _always_ said they weren’t good enough for Lilith. Nah, our General needed someone _good_ in her life.” Lilith goes bright red at his words, and her almost smile curls at the corner of her lips.

Greer grins, “Good on ya mate.” He glances to Lilith before he adds, “I’m glad yer making my friend happy.”

Greer bounces on his toes, looking around the room before either Lilith or Sans could say anymore, “Alright, where’s Felix!”

Felix grins and sits up, gives a little wave, “Heya Greer!”

Greer smiles brightly, his purple eyes gleaming as he gasps, “Felix! Do ya got yurself a sweetheart! He’s a pretty one!”

Felix’s face went as red as Lilith’s, and Wine puffs up in his own pride, “Yes, I am. My name is Wine, of Pandora.” Wine tells him smoothly, claiming the mages as much as they claimed him, easily taking their Den name and Felix looks so damn proud of his mate.

Its as much a claiming of Felix, a declaration when he said it out loud.

Greer smiles brightly, bouncing on his toes, and goes to say something else, but he’s interrupted by a quiet, polite cough and Evie gives him a soft smile, “Greer, I know your excited but we don’t have much time.”

Grinning, Greer settles, “Right, sorry Ev. Got excited, Pandora hasn’t been ta the Gala in at least two years.” He actually does look a little sad, “You guys coming this year?”

The mages share a look and some shrugs, and Sloan clears her throat, “I don’t know Greer. It isn’t much fun for us.”

Greer nods, and frowns, “Right. Yeah.” Then he brightens again, “Well. If ya do come, I’ll make sure ya have fun!” he claps his hands together and his happy grin darkens, “But taday, we’re here ta help yur boy.” He clicks his heels in delight, “and ya guys are gonna love this.”

He looks back and whistles sharp, making Sans tilt his head, “What do you do Greer?” he squints with suspicion, glaring into the dark, empty room.

Greer grins, “I’m the Warden of the Gerressa-9 mage prison.”

Nightmare feels his shoulders tighten, and he suddenly understands the mage’s tension and apprehension. Yet, they all seem calm with Greer, they trust him, and if Sloan isn’t worried, Nightmare won’t be either.

He turns to Sloan, his grin unwaveringly bright, “The great Lady Sloan, if ya could help your beau, we gotta great snack fer him!”

Something clicks in Nightmare’s head and he can see Sloan grin the same slick smirk. Sin gives him a confused look as she comes to help him out of the bed, her hand on his ivory elbow to help him up, steadying him on his shaky feet.

Greer turns into the dark reception room with a nasty smirk, calling into the dark, “Okay ladies, bring in prisoner 114259.”

As Sloan gets Nightmare to his feet, guiding him to the portal, Sin stands to cover his other side, leaning into her to ask, “Sloan, what’s going on?”

She smirks, “Feeding Nightmare.” She tells him smoothly.

He blinks at her, following close to Nightmare’s side, covering his flank, his grin slow to grow. Sin brushes a quick kiss to the side of Sloan’s mouth, and then Nightmare’s, staying close.

Evie nods, and glances around the room, “No one can ever know about this. If the other Covens found out, it could mean war.” She warns, and everyone nods. Den magic hums between them, and this is for one of their own.

“Prison 114259 is someone you all know. He’s a disgrace to his Den and has been excommunicated. They don’t want his body back, but they fought for imprisonment rather then execution.” Evie glances around to the mages and frowns, “We will tell his Coven he died in a riot.” She told them mildly as a tall, dark haired man was shoved into their infirmary. He’s dressed in a bright orange jump suit, his hands shackled with heavy, magic restraining chains in front of him. Despite all this, the air in the room goes cold as if someone sucked all the happiness out of it as tension coils through the mages.

Immediately Nightmare sees Lilith and Felix stiffen, and shove their mates behind them, armor wrapping around their bodies as they puff up in anger.

The two women who push him through the portal shove him to his knees, and the mage gives Lilith and Felix a slick grin, “War, Death. How are you?” he asks easily, as if they were friends before he glances to Sans and his grin goes slick, “Pretty boy, you got their Death.”

Lilith snarls, and Sans’s eye light turns blue with magic.

Nightmare growls low in his throat despite his own weakness, feels their anger and hatred, and when Greer speaks, all the joy is gone from his tone, “This is Gregory, ah Denless mage who, after t’e war, sought to hunt t’e fairy tale folk. Murdered ah bunch of innocent people, including kids. He passed through Pandora’s territory, nearly killed Lola while he was here.” Glass makes a low noise of distress, dark orange eyes glance to Lola, as if needing to know she was okay and alive.

Lola is unmoving as Greer continues, and despite his own hurt at being kept in the dark about being their Den mates, Glass side steps so he’s closer to the tiny shield mage. “Lilith an’ Felix almost had him before he moved into ah different Den’s territory where he killed two more kids.”

Gregory laughed, like Greer told a hilarious joke, “Yeah. Sure did.” He blinks his light eyes at them, his grin slick, “Had I been caught by Pandora they wouldn’t have brought me in alive. But the Doves are pacifists. Brought me to the Coven leaders instead.” He sounds smug about it, delighted and he licks his teeth.

Evie makes an angry noise at the back of her throat, and she looks to Nightmare, “Will he suffice?”

It takes Nightmare a moment to understand what she means, he’s still so tired and waning quickly, but he grins when it clicks in his head. He grips at Sloan’s hand, “Yes, he’ll do.”

He turns his azure eye light to Gregory and smiles, bright and wide, making the mage drop his slick grin. What little magic is back ripples with excitement, and when he shuffles past Lilith, she hands him a summoned knife.

He gives her a grin and winks his good socket at her, “Thanks.” He looks to Gregory and holds his eyes with the knife in hand, thumbing the edge, “Fear makes the soul taste better.”

Gregory’s grin fell completely, and he blinks at Nightmare as he starts to understand that he’s in a great deal of danger.

With a grin, Nightmare shuffles towards him, and only realizes, how hungry he is. How hallowed out his soul feels, how he needs to _eat._

It was so kind of Evie, to bring him a snack.

-

Leaning into the cool blue wall of Sloan’s room, Nightmare rubs the sleep from his eye and sighs. He holds his arms out in front of him, and he had hoped that eating would have helped his magic spread over his body faster. It hadn’t, leaving him bitterly disappointed. It left him as he was, one step into the dark and a foot in the light.

One arm was obsidian and thick with oozy oily magic, and the other was like polished ivory. His ribs were thick with magic and part of his spine, but his legs and skull were still pearly white, like polished bone. He showered in the dark to scrub the blood off his hands, so he didn’t have to look at his body, and carefully avoided the mirrors before he put Sin’s clothes back on. They were clean and soft against his bones and would have been considered nicer then what he wore before his corruption.

Even after three dark souls, making him feel full and heavy with magic, it hadn’t done anything to speed up the process, and his magic was stubbornly coming back slowly.

The bed dipped on is right as Sloan slipped into his blind spot, settling in her bed beside him. He was too tired to sass or argue, too beat up and worn out, he leaned into her side, and took her hand. He sunk his fingers in between hers, and pressed his cheek into the side of her shoulder.

He can’t see her, only her legs as she eased them up onto the bed to stretch out next to him, and he mourns the loss of the extra sensory his magic gave him. It covered his blind spot, allowed him to sense when something was there, honed to search for people who intent to do harm.

Nothing but blackness answered him now, and he doesn’t _like_ that he can’t sense Sloan next to him.

“I’m surprised that Lilith and Felix aren’t demanding us all pile up in the living room.” He mutters weakly against her, his soul oddly both exhausted and wired.

It makes Sloan snort an amused noise, “Oh, they asked.” She sounded like she was smiling, and that made Nightmare feel better, “But I thought you could use some peace and quiet for a bit.” Nightmare hums, appreciates that she knew he would need some time on his own, or at least, just the three of them. Appreciates that the battle mages respected that, despite the fact that their own instincts were likely demanding to keep him close.

“How are you feeling?” she asks him softly, her thumb brushing at his knuckles.

Nightmare shrugs, “Shit.” It draws Sloan’s eyes down to him, his broken socket wide and empty, and Sloan can’t help but notice how tired he looks. How there’s deep dark purple circles under his sockets, how his working eye light looks murky with pain.

“You should sleep Nights.” She offers quietly, earning another shrug from Nightmare.

He should sleep, but he’s wired, feeling oddly awake. He’s over tired, despite his exhaustion, and not ready to sleep.

Sloan takes a breath as Sin slips into their room, fresh from the shower and in clean clothes. He slips into their bed on Nightmare’s other side, again, boxing him in between them. Sin lays out next to him, his skull propped on his fist, and he reaches out to place his hand on Nightmare’s bare, porcelain like femur.

Nightmare reaches out, laying his hand over Sin’s, quietly pressing his leg into the soft touch as Sin brushes his thumb along the inside of his leg.

“Nightmare,” Sloan starts softly, and he drops his sockets, and stiffens at the tone of her voice, “I think you should talk to someone about what happened.”

He frowns, and rejects the notion immediately, “No.”

“Nightmare,” Sloan tries, and Sin’s hand tightened on his femur.

“No.” he says again, firm and unmoving on this, “I don’t need therapy. I’m fine.”

Sloan stills beside him, feels heat pouring from his body, the tension winding through him, and she squeezes his hand. Nightmare needs therapy, desperately, and for more then just what happened in the last twenty-four hours.

There was so much trauma, heaps and heaps of it that he kept well hidden under sarcasm and sass. His anger wasn’t from just the corruption, it was years of abuse that had been left unaddressed. Abandonment issues on top of all that, and Sloan can’t recall a single person who was supposed to care about him, who should have backed him unquestionably, who didn’t abandon him. His brother certainly had, Cross had, the village had.

Yet, Sloan knew better then anyone, you couldn’t force someone to go to therapy.

“Okay.” And Nightmare relaxes when she doesn’t push the issue and he leans a little more into her side, “You don’t have to go.”

Some of the tension leaks out of him that he isn’t being forced, but he still feels coiled tight against Sloan’s side, stressed and anxious. Sin gives him a worried look, agrees with Sloan that Nights needs to talk to someone about all of this, but he doesn’t push the issue either. Instead he quietly lets his thumb brush at his inner femur, smooth and gentle over bone. A silent support, there for Nightmare if he wants it. Being there for him, both of them, in ways no one else had and Sin hoped it was enough. He hoped that what they gave him was what he needed, and he hoped Nights would ask for what he wanted.

Nightmare lets go of Sin’s hand to rub at his broken socket with a wince, drawing a frown from Sin, “You okay Nights?”

Nightmare shrugged again, still soothed by the nickname they called him, likes that they’ve claimed him in a way. It made him feel better, eased even. Loved when he wasn’t okay. He’s not alright, not by a long shot, but at least he has what he wants, “Yeah, just a headache from the sun. The broken socket is sensitive to light.”

He hates the feeling, hates feeling weak and sick even if he’s full of magic. Sin frowns at the early morning sun, and with a quick brush of a kiss to the side of his skull, Sin is out of bed to close the curtains and to turn off the light.

He’s back in bed before Nightmare can really miss him, and he’s back stretched out in bed with them. They’re being so soft with him, gentle, babying him when no one else has ever, and he doesn’t fight Sloan when she encourages him down for more sleep.

The room is warm, and he’s safe between them even as his head throbs. He relaxes between Sloan and Sin, and when she murmured they should have a nap, no one fights her on it. A nap sounds good, it’s a great idea, but he’s still feeling strangely wired.

He doesn’t want to sleep yet, and the words come spilling past his teeth before he means to let them. They’re raw and small, and he blames the trauma of the last twenty-four hours. A need to unload something builds in his chest, to unburden at least one horrible experience to someone who gives a shit about him. To have someone actually care about what happened to him, and when he starts, Sin and Sloan don’t interrupt him when he quietly says, “An ex broke my socket.” The words slip through his teeth undaunted and with surprising ease, and its easy to talk to Sin and Sloan.

They say nothing at first, but Sloan’s arms tighten around him from behind when she hisses, “What?”

Nightmare’s tired, so very tired when he speaks his truth, and leans into Sin’s chest a little more. He pressed his cheek into his sternum, hiding his damaged socket against Sin’s chest, “He said he liked me.” He feels numb when he speaks, and the only thing that matters is that Sin and Sloan have him.

Sin actually _growls_ over him, and his arms tighten around his battered body as they both press into him. Safe and warm in their bed, the word slip a little easier, “We were not quite teenagers anymore, but not really adults yet. And. No one had liked me like that before. Everyone fawned over my brother, and he had lots of suiters.”

Sin and Sloan don’t say anything, but they held him tightly between them as his words grow smaller, “I thought he liked me. Thought he chose me over my brother. I mean.” He pauses and shrugs, “He fucking _courted_ me. Brought me little gifts, food. Asked to spend time with me without my brother.”

When Nightmare laughs, its bitter and cruel, a gaspy little thing that was full of his self-deprecation. His own self-hatred and his words come out sterile, “We had sex.” It had been soft and sweet, something so gentle that Nightmare had thought at the time he hadn’t deserved to be treated so kindly, “He was my first, and he treated me like a lover.” The next part is the worse, and he licks his molars, “Turns out he never did like me. It was a dare. A bet, and after he. We.” He takes a breath, and can’t bare to look at his lovers around him. Can’t bare to see their expression, “He was dared to take my virginity, and once he had, he turned on me. I think you would call it, ghosting?”

Sin and Sloan are still around him, neither are moving a muscle, and Nightmare isn’t sure they’re breathing. Their arms are so tight around him, like they’re afraid someone will steal him away.

“Dream didn’t believe me when I told him. Said it must be a misunderstanding, that I hadn’t dated before and clearly, there was something I wasn’t getting. That I must have done something wrong, because he had never had a lover leave him like that before.”

“Your brother blamed you?” Sin asks quietly, his voice deep and throaty with anger.

Nightmare shrugged, and he feels so _tired_ , “I confronted him and his friends.” And in their soul songs, that have been steadily singing to his, there’s a soft pulse of pride, and he basks in it, “He hit me. And he didn’t stop hitting me, and when I fought back I gave as good as I got. So he had his _friends_ pin me down, and he beat the shit out of me.” He pauses again, and his arms come up to wrap around Sin’s waist and he clings to him, “And I swore I would never be weak again, and ate the apple that night.”

He lifts his hand, ivory and pale, scowling at it, “I hate this body.” He tells them firmly, moving his boney fingers slowly, the bones clicking softly like porcelain cups, “Its weak.” And he drops his hand back around Sin, falling quiet.

For a moment, both Sin and Sloan are silent, wrapped around him firmly, like a suit of armor that will protect him from harm. They’re warm around him, their bodies pressed in tight to his, and he feels something stir. Sin’s long, tight body pressed into his chest, Sloan’s soft body pressed to his spine, and he shivers when he feels the gentle swell of her breast against his shoulder blades. He feels a wave of warmth low in his body, magic thick in his pelvis and he squirms uncomfortably as he tries to ignore it.

Even when they both sit up a little, pulling away from them as they pressed him flat to his back, he’s safe between them as they lean onto an elbow over him, peering down with anger in their eyes.

Anger that isn’t directed at him, he realizes, but _for_ him. Anger on his behalf, insulted that someone would hurt him like that, when his own brother had said it must have been a _misunderstanding._ It does things to him, like the spicy smell of Sin’s shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize its _arousal_.

He _likes_ their anger.

“I’m sorry, he beat the shit out of you?” Sloan asked, frighteningly calm, her anger simmering just below the surface, and that did more to calm Nightmare then if she had tried to comfort him. He quietly fed from her anger, savoring it as much as her affection.

Nightmare shrugs between them, and Sloan sighs, rubbing at her forehead, and she swallows her fury, “He beat the,” she pauses, and grits her teeth, “I’m sorry Nights. I’m sorry that was your first experience.”

“Is he still alive?” Sin is just as angry, and his eye lights glow with his anger, stirring something in his soul.

Nightmare shrugs again, “Yeah. I thought about killing him, don’t know why I didn’t. Hung around feeding off the negativity of my world, until Frisk came along.”

He’s expecting pity, he’s expecting anger when he shrugs up at them, like it doesn’t mean a damn thing. He tries not to let it hurt him anymore, tries to make it hurt less then when it did when it happened, and he likes to pretend it doesn’t bother him when it was still devastating.

It still hurt, to his newly feeling soul, a bruise that he never had the chance to let heal since he shut himself off when the hurt happened.

Sin sighs and rubs his head, and glances to Sloan. She has the same expression of anger as he does, but she’s bottling it up tighter then Sin is. She’s burying it better then Sin can, for his sake, but he still feeds from her anger easily, and it only adds to the odd, post panic arousal that’s building in his body.

Maybe that’s why he’s reacting like he is, why he’s feeling hot and needy. He almost died, and now his lovers had their hands on him, and his body was begging to be touched. Looking for something that wasn’t pain, like it was craving affection while his soul was full of the brutality of cruel mages it was ingesting.

He was already raw, both emotionally and physically, what was a little more? Sloan’s soul sings strongly to his, but not out of pity or anger, but love and affection and _want_.

They would choose him each and every time, and he _wants_ them to choose him. His head throbs with exhaustion when he pushes himself up, safe in his room with Sloan and Sin, and knows they would never hurt him. Knows if he asked for something, they would try to give it to him.

Fatigue swells through him, but he _needs_ something. He feels something sluggish swell in his soul when it cries out for a connection. He’s so tired, and he just _wants_ for once. Wants to be wanted, when everyone else, his brother, and Cross and his ex, all chose someone else.

They both stare at him with furrowed brows, waiting for him to say something. _Fuck it_ , Nightmare thinks, he’s been kidnapped and tortured, he thinks he’s allowed to ask for something he wants for once.

He lifts his skeletal hand, the bones clicking softly when he moves his fingers, and its easier to stare at his hand then at Sin and Sloan when he quietly asks, “Will you fuck me in this body?”

He can see them tense in his peripheral vision, sure his request was crude, but he asked it none the less. Neither are running from the room, so they can’t be too disgusted with him, and at least Sin’s eye lights flash with arousal.

Sloan hesitates, instantly worried, and Nightmare knows it’s for both of them when she glances to Sin, “Nights, I dunno. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Yes.” He agrees quietly, still staring at his hand, because that’s the easier option, “And I almost died, and the whole time they had me I thought of you two, and how I never apologized. How I would never see either of you again, and I just.” He almost runs out of steam, and he’s just so tired, “I just want to know what it would’ve been like in this body.”

They both just stare at him, wide eye’d and shocked, and Nightmare sees Sloan’s resolve waiver as she bit her lower lip, so he goes in for the kill. Finally looking up at her from under his socket, he frowns, “Please, Sloan?”

Its fighting dirty, and they all know it, but her eyes go wide when he asks nicely, and there’s something in her eyes that flash with interest. Sin swallows hard, his pretty face lit up in gentle excitement as he takes in what Nightmare is asking. He hasn’t healed, not fully, not emotionally or physically and his face and body are still covered in fading bruises that would take day’s more before it was all gone. Yet, Nightmare couldn’t help but think he was still the prettiest skeleton Nightmare knew.

“Okay.” He says brightly, eyes alight with excitement, and the events, the trauma that gave Sin nightmares hadn’t seemed to damper his elation or arousal. He as much as Nightmare needs to _reclaim_ this part of himself, and Nightmare feels a flush of pride for Sin, that he wasn’t letting his world get away with ruining something he enjoyed.

Sloan still doesn’t look convinced despite her own arousal, casting worried glances between them both, and something prickles through his own excitement, a growing insecurity that she might not _want_ him. Nightmare wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, he wasn’t exactly in a great position, and it wasn’t like he could _offer_ either of them anything.

Not when he was weak and sick right now.

“Sin.” Sloan pauses, glancing over his bruised hands and skull, “You sure?”

Sin glances over Sloan’s beautiful face, and Nightmare’s with the same delighted expression, “Yeah.” And when he looks to Sloan, he doesn’t hesitate, his eye lights are bright and happy, “Yeah. I trust you two.”

His enthusiastic words and the way his soul sings brightly to theirs softens all the worry from Sloan, and sooths Nightmare. Any worry is eased away, and her voice is small when she asks, “You’ll tell us, if you want to stop? If it’s too much.” Its part of the deal, its part of consent here, and Sin nods excitedly.

“Yes, I promise.” Sin is still a _Sans,_ and promises meant a great deal of something to him, “I’ll stop if I don’t like it.”

Nightmare doubts he’ll need to stop, doubts he’ll be bothered by the memories that haunt him at night. Not with Sloan and Nightmare with him, not with them who’s touching him. Yet, the promise calms Sloan, and she gives them a bashful, nervous smile, “Okay. Alright.” And so much for slow, “What do I,” her hand flaps helplessly at her side, “I’ve been with. But never.” She laughs nervously, its adorable, and makes Nightmare melt.

Sin beams, leaning in to cup her cheek, pressing a hot, mouthwatering kiss to her lips, and Nightmare swallows hard when he watches her eyes sink shut, sighing into their soft kiss. Nightmare sits up a little straighter with a grin, his own arousal starting to grow and drown out his exhaustion when Sloan’s sigh turns into a little moan.

Sin catches her hand, thumb brushing along her palm before he lowered it to Nightmare’s ribs. Nightmare’s chest hitches when Sin pushes her hand up and under the shirt that still smells clean and spicy from Sin’s cologne, and he presses Sloan’s hand against Nightmare’s ribs.

Nightmare sighs at the contact, and goes back willingly as Sin pushes him down, guiding Sloan down with them. They’re both happy to give up control to him, both surrendering completely to their mate, control Sin probably needs to have for a while.

Shivering, Nightmare swallows back a soft noise as Sin guides Sloan’s hand into his rib cage, running her fingers through the thick, oily magic, pressing her fingers against his spine. Nightmare presses upward and into her touch, touch starved and needy, he sighs as Sloan finds her footing and she wraps her delicate hand around his spine. The touch makes Nightmare moan before he can swallow it back, its thick with his need, and he presses into her touch. 

Sin broke their kiss, “Good, good job Sloan.” He kisses her again, and Sloan’s fingers find the soft cushion of the magical cartilage between his oozy bones, quick to pick Nightmare apart bit by careful bit, “That’s it, our Star,” Sin encourages her softly, praises her with a smile against her mouth, and pleasure winds its way through Nightmare, pushing away everything of the last twenty four hours, “Now, kiss him.” He encouraged, “I think our Moon could use some encouragement.”

Nightmare doesn’t complain, doesn’t fight as Sin guides her down towards him, her mouth pressing into his in a gentle kiss. She deepens it, her tongue brushing gently over his summoned one, tasting his cool, minty magic.

Nightmare sighs into their kiss, his hands reaching up to grip at Sloan’s shirt, one hand slipping down her body to cup at her bottom, giving her butt a hard squeeze. She laughs into their kiss, and he can nearly taste the joy in her magic and feel the arousal in her soul song.

He gasps when Sin gently palms his pelvis, pressing the heel of his hand into his hard length hidden in his shorts, gripping him through the thin material. Nightmare arches into the touch, bucks his hips to attain as much contact as he could, trembling softly between his hands.

Sin laughs softly, kissing and slowly slithering his way down Nightmare’s body, trailing little kisses and nips where he could. His tongue danced down Nightmare’s bones, both full of his dark power and the sweet ivory until he was gently tugging his shorts down, wrapping his hot, sweet mouth around his hard length.

Nightmare’s sweet cries of pleasure are muffled by Sloan’s gentle kiss as Sin swallows him down, and pleasure fills him.

It isn’t often that Nightmare gets what he wants, rarer still, that he gets a perfect moment like this. Yet, after much teasing and touching, gentle caressing and sensual touches with hands and mouths, Sloan carefully sinks down on his hard cock, wrapping her warm body around his. His cock nestled gently inside her body as Sloan bowed over his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she pressed kisses and nips into his throat.

She whispers against his skull, her breath warm against the ivory bone, when she whispers, _“My King.”_ Mages don’t kneel to Kings or royalty, but they claim them, “My _Nightmare.”_ she purrs against his body, and Nightmare isn’t sure he’s ever been so delighted to be claimed before, by anyone.

Sin sunk into his body with just as much ease, just as gently, from behind Sloan. His long, thin hands where firmly at Sloan’s waist as he thrust into Nightmare’s body with careful movements. His hard cock gliding smoothly in and out of Nightmare’s sweet heat with every careful movement. Drawing out little gasps and small cries of pleasure, and for a while at least, Nightmare forgets about the horror and trauma of what was done to him.

He focuses on the pleasure that fills his body, coiling in tight against his belly as Sloan rides him and he’s taken by Sin.

The force of his orgasm makes him tremble, drags Sloan and Sin down with him to soak in the pleasure of their coupling, arching into them as they touch ivory and ebony bones. He nearly comes again when Sloan sinks her small, perfect teeth into his collar bone, and really, everything about her was simply perfect. Perfect to him, his beautiful, _powerful_ Star. 

His star and his assassin, more then he could ever hope for.

They don’t leave him, don’t abandon him to something better or something warmer, and cuddle in close to hold him between them when they’ve finished. Sandwiched between Sin and Sloan, Nightmare drains the last of their anger and hurt, thrives on the darkness he had fed on earlier, and relishes the feeling of pleasure that still warms his body.

His soul sings with it as his body cools, and tucked safely between Sin and Sloan, Nightmare doesn’t hurt so much, and he clings to the soft feelings he has for them. He clings to the fact that he’s been adopted by mages, that he’s one of theirs, and that things might just turn out okay for him.


	35. A Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare and the Crew have an over due discussion. 
> 
> It goes much better then anyone would have anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> It's a new Friday, new chapter. Its the long awaited discussion, that has some pretty unexpected results. Please be sure to read the warnings, and enjoy. 
> 
> Also, I've got a pretty chill discord if anyone is interested in joining. Including this chapter, two chapters of pure fluff, two chapters of slice of life before we dip back into hurty fun times. :3 
> 
> Thank you Lissy, who came up with the wonderful idea of NM trying to use tentacles when they're not there xD 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNINGS: smut, lemon, soft, slow sex and cuddles. Sex as a coping mechanism. Consensual voyeurism. Very mild discussion of regicide and murder.

Tapping his fingers on the glossy wooden table that the mages have loaned out to him so he could speak to the Crew privately, Nightmare suppresses a sigh, if only just. Two full days, and he still hadn’t recovered, he still felt sick and weak. Still too easily drained, leaving him tired and sleeping a lot in Sloan’s bed.

Sloan or Sin were always with him, making sure he slept and ate, making sure he didn’t over do it when he was still recovering. They touched him when he asked them too, when he found himself needy and seeking affection, their fingers would brush softly at his ivory and ebony bones as he recovered. Most of his body was covered in his magic, thick and heavy with darkness; his ribs, arms and finally his skull were back to how they should have been, but his legs were still painfully boney, carefully hidden under a thick pair of Sans’s pants.

He’s still weak, too weak to summon much, too weak to summon tentacles, and his reputation alone is enough to keep the others in line. Or maybe, and he knows in his heart of hearts this to be true, their loyalty had been hard won by his actions long before they landed in this world.

He knows they’re loyal to him, knows they would follow him if he decided to leave this world, even if it hurt them all to go with him. He knows they made a promise, and they would keep it even at the cost of their own happiness. Yet, Nightmare doesn’t want to leave, not now. He knows a good thing when he sees it, knows he’s in love with Sloan, and the thought of leaving her hurts more then he likes to admit.

Yet, they still have enemies. His brother, Ink, and Cross especially, would take delight in hurting the mages to get back at him. It’s a risk, a calculated one, and one he can’t make on his own. Not at the possibility of staying in one place and drawing attention, not with the mages lives at stake.

He needs the Crew’s input, needs to _know_ that loyalty will extend to the mages. He doesn’t doubt they would put their lives on the line for each of them, but he needs to hear it from them.

The mages aren’t present in this meeting, Sloan isn’t, but Sin is behind him and to his direct right. Hovering coldly over his shoulder like a guard, despite the faded bruises that covered his face. He’s straight spined and unflappable, sockets narrowed with his hands tucked at his lower back.

Sin’s acting as his guard, Nightmare’s sword compared to Sloan as his shield. Sin’s quiet and cold, acting more of himself then he had in weeks, like the vicious assassin Nightmare knew he could be. Pride flushes through him, so proud of Sin for standing here with him when it would have been so easy to hide away in the face of all this trauma, having his back unconditionally, and Nightmare feels arousal slowly build through his core. It’s hot at the base of his spine, leaking heavily into his pelvis with swirling, unformed magic and Nightmare spreads his knees a little more.

He glances back to Sin’s cold face and thanks the stars he hasn’t figured out what just _standing_ behind him is doing to Nightmare. The teasing then would be relentless, and if Nightmare thought Sin was pretty just standing there, he was downright gorgeous when he was motivated for something. 

Nightmare looks away from Sin, giving no outward signs of his feelings as he licks a tooth, his tongue bright azure behind his teeth, and he looks around the room, “The last few weeks,” he says plainly, “Have been shit.” He doesn’t sugar code it, not for any of them, not even Sin, “But we have new information.”

From across the table Glass sneers, but stays quiet as Nightmare continues, tapping patiently on the table, “We are _important_ to the mages.”

“We’re fucking Den mates.” Glass hisses, angry and hurt, feeling _betrayed._

There’s no calming that anger, not right now, and Nightmare quietly feeds from the negativity, the hurt, from his soul. Instead of arguing the point, Nightmare nods, “Yes.” His voice is rough, like someone stepping on leaves in the fall, “Now, I’m doing something I haven’t done before.”

Around the table, hopeful faces look back to him, the others leaning forward in anticipation, the only exception as Glass leans back with a scowl, closed off and angry. He doesn’t like this change in Nightmare, this softness, knows it’s the mage who did this, and he hates that there’s even a discussion here.

Nightmare ignores him and silently leans forward, knitting his fingers together as he levels a glare at each of them, “This effects us all.” He tells them smoothly, “Including the girls and Sugar.” He takes a breath, “The mages are willing to let us stay here.”

It hurts his soul how excited most of them look, eye lights bright with hope, and the positivity makes him wince. Again, the exception is Glass, who’s leaning back and looking annoyed in a sulk.

“We would be Den mates.” Ripper laughs darkly, leaning into Red to mutter _I told ya so,_ earning an equally delighted sneer from Red.

Nightmare ignores them, and focuses on his message, “We would be cared for, cherished, have their devotion. They would stand between us and any threat. _But,_ we need to consider our enemies.” That wipes all the smirks off their faces, “We have a lot of them, and we have to ask ourselves if we are prepared to do the same for them? Will we stand between a threat and them?”

There’re hesitant looks, pauses of thought, before nods slowly bob around the table.

“They saved me.” Crow muttered from beside Gore, pink magic puffing from his respirator, the cap Felix gave him pulled low over his sockets.

“They’re kind to the girls.” Edge added softly, arms crossed, and of course he only thinks of the girls needs over his own. Never one to speak for himself, and what his wants and needs are, and Nightmare tries not to look to hard at that or the similarities to himself.

“They make us breakfast!” Gore chimes in, smile bright and solid, healthier then he had been in as long a time Nightmare could remember. 

“They fucking lied to us.” Glass sneers, angry and hurt, earning a glare from Red.

Red sneers back, puffed up like an angry cat. He’s put back on his thick, bulky coat from Underfell, making up more of his size, taking up more room to make himself look bigger. It’s the same trick Glass uses, but Red’s works far more effectively.

The metal studs of his collar flash silver, like he was daring Glass to lay a hand on him when he snarls, “Are ya really that fuck’n surprised?” Glass turns that dark, angry look to Red, his orange eye lights narrowed into tight little circles, “Look at who the fuck we are.”

Glass hisses at him, low and guttural, and Red grins when he knows he’s gotten under Glass’s proverbial skin, “We kidnapped Lilith and Sans.” He ticks off his finger, making Glass’s expression darken, and Red’s turn vicious, “We’re the _bad guys_.” He mocks, ticking off another sharp finger, and Glass’s hand creeks as he curls it into a fist, and next to Red, Edge stills.

“Why the fuck would they tell us the truth, when we don’t deserve it?” Glass holds Red’s gaze, and a few of the others slump, feeling the truth of Red’s words. That they don’t deserve this kindness, to be apart of something better, to be better. Nightmare’s about to interject, to interrupt, when Red continues, “We would have ran to the other side of the multiverse if they told us the truth in the beginning.” He mocks, voice hard and cold.

“We would have ran so fuck’n fast, dust clouds would’a been in the air. We would have disappeared the moment they told us. Instead, they gave us a choice.” He spits, and something eases down in Glass, if only a little, “They got to know us. _Us._ And they still want to keep us. With all of our damage, and all of our baggage and trauma and shit. They chose us.” Red leans back into his chair, putting the truth out there bluntly in a way Nightmare couldn’t, and he lifts his foot to perch it on the edge of his chair, wrapping his hands around his ankle in a lazy curl.

He gives Glass a sharp, toothy smile, looking like a shark, “They know who and what we are. They’ve seen us at our worse.” Crow is nodding, “At our weakest.” Sin gives a short nod as well, eye lights darkening with hurt, “They’ve seen us at our lowest point, and still chose us. And if you can’t get over that Glass?” Glass gives Red a dark look, sockets narrowing, “Then go fuck yourself.” He hisses.

Edge makes a choked noise behind Red, who’s grinning boldly up at Glass’s quickly souring expression.

Nightmare sighs, feels the aggression and stress building in them both, and when he tries to summon his tentacles to slap onto the table, he can feel them like a phantom limb. Yet, the noise never came nor did his tentacles, and for a horrifying moment all he can do is stare at the empty space where thick, heavy tentacles should have slapped into the wood.

His soul twists, and he makes a small noise of distress that only Sin has picked up on. Yellow eye lights glance to Nightmare, sees how still and tense he’s become, how hard he’s biting at his tongue. Nightmare thinks how Sin’s world did so many disservices to him, too many to count, but making him think he was stupid was right near the top.

Sin was far from stupid, he was brilliant if anyone thought to ask Nightmare or Sloan, and he quickly glanced over to Nightmare to figure out what was upsetting him like it was nothing. It was like his mind was a lightning rod, and Sin just _knew._

He stocked forward to slap his hands down onto the wooden table with a sharp, piercing noise of bone on wood, his voice deep and angry, “Enough!”

It startles Red and Glass enough to break them from their weird stand off, like two dogs about to fight and who’s concentration has been broken. They both look to Sin with wide eyes when he snipes back at them, “You’re both being dick heads. Now knock it off.”

It’s the most like himself he’s acted in weeks, and Nightmare is glad to see it. He knows Sin has a long way to go, needs far more help then Nightmare can give him, and he knows he’s making the right call when Sin glances to him and gives him a discreet little wink.

Nightmare barely suppresses the grin at that, suppresses the shiver that runs down his body when Sin’s hand brushes discreetly at his covered spine when he steps back, and the knowing grin on his face tells Nightmare all he needs to know. Smug little brat that he was, and there’s a swell of fondness that Nightmare is getting better at hiding in public.

Sin was a shit, always had been a little shit, but he was _Nightmare and Sloan’s_ shit. Their favorite brat and it does things to Nightmare’s soul to see him acting himself again.

Red huffing brings Nightmare’s attention back to the table, and he’s leaning back with a frown, “Point is, I wanna fucking stay.” He hasn’t noticed the softness in Nightmare, thank the fates, he didn’t need to deal with _Lilith and Sans’s_ brat on top of his own.

There’s a silence, long and painful as the Crew go tense around the table before Gore quietly says, “I want to stay too.” He looks up, and for a painful moment, its like he’s _Sans_ again, “I’ll protect them.”

Slowly, there are nods around the table, quiet agreements from all but Glass, and they’re waiting on him to either give in or break their hearts. He knows that when they say they’ll stand and fight for the mages, they will. It’s not hyperbole, they would die and kill for them, if they needed to.

Crow shrugs, “They’re basically Crew.” He huffs, as if its that easy, “We’re just living here now. No point making this what it doesn’t need to be.”

Maybe, it was that easy.

Nightmare takes a breath, and nods, “Alright. Is this what we want? Do you all want to stay?” Glass glowers at the wall across the table, arms crossed over his chest, closed off and angry. Nightmare knows he should talk to him, sooth him, but he himself is still tired. Still reeling and raw from the trauma of the last few days, and he needs a break.

He wants to go nap with Sloan and Sin again, just for a little while longer.

The others nod around the table, and even if it isn’t much of a discussion, their agreeance, their _want_ to stay eases something in his soul.

Nightmare nods and presses his hands flat to the table as he pushes himself to stand, “Alright. Let’s go tell the mages.”

He glances to Sin, his pretty, pretty mate and sees how his expression splits into joy and happiness, and Nightmare is soothed, knows he’s doing the right thing.

Knows that things will be okay this time around.

-

Sloan looks up from her book as the Crew slips into the living room, and the hopeful expression on her face is almost painful. He takes everything in him not to go to her immediately, to take her hand and tell her he was staying. They were staying and fuck the multiverse.

The other mages, Lilith, Felix, Lola, and Ryder, look up biting their lips and full of nervous energy. Its almost endearing, how worried they are, how they _want_ them to stay. They look afraid that they will leave, abandon them and the mages will lose them.

Nightmare rolls his shoulders back, coolly addressing the Den, and licks his teeth. His hands tuck neatly to his low back, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Sin fighting a smile of excitement. Sin _wants_ Sloan to be excited that they’re going to stay, that he wants to stay.

The others shift at his back, nervous and excited, like they’re children who have a secret.

The mages give him a painfully hopeful look when he clears his throat, “We’ve talked about it.” He pauses solely for dramatic effect, “We’ve decided to stay.”

It’s a declaration, a statement that they’re staying, not asking but informing, and for a tense moment something like dread settled in their bellies. As if the mages are going to laugh and pitch them from their home, despite the unusual loyalty granted to them by magic.

It’s Felix who breaks first, slumping in relief before he laughs a little nervously as he pushed himself up to his feet, “Oh thank the Fates.” He casts his bright, delighted smile around the room, the positivity that radiates off him nearly makes Nightmare wince, but he contains it as he’s given a light shoulder nudge.

“Asshole.” There’s no heat in Felix’s tone, and his grin says that there’s no anger towards him, and Nightmare grins back up at him, “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He laughs as he strolls to Wine, wrapping his heavy arms around Wine’s narrow shoulders, snuggling in, “Thought you were going to say you were leaving.”

Wine _beams_ as he brushes his sharp toothed mouth against Felix’s in a warm, gentle kiss, “No. I’m afraid your stuck with us now.” It draws a deep chuckle from Felix as he presses another warm kiss to the mage’s mouth.

Relief swells through the room, despite how Glass storms passed them, heading for the kitchen. Lola watches him go with a frown, her small hands knotting in front of her nervously.

Behind her, the girls whoop and cheer with happiness, drawing her sad, depressed expression, but her smile doesn’t meet her eyes when they ask if they get to go to school now. The girls are excited to go, to live in Frisk’s world for real, and not just pretending.

Nightmare watches Crow and Gore cluster in close to Lola, all smiles and rough voices. Watches how Edge and Red navigate to Lilith and Sans, like they’ve had a hook stuck into their souls and they’re drawn to them.

He watches Coffee, hovering happy near Felix and Wine, waits for them to finish their deep kiss before Felix wraps his arms around his narrow shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug. Ryder and Papyrus are nudging Sugar, and Ripper’s laughing with them, and for a while at least, things look to be okay.

It takes Nightmare a moment to realize that, things _will_ be okay for them, _them_ , the bad guys. Even Glass, as angry as he was currently, would calm down. He just needed time.

Glancing around the room, he finds Sloan at the back with a gentle grin, her smile wide, flashing her straight teeth. He melts, a little, when she smiles at him. Her bright yellow dress made of soft silk makes her glow, and he’s helpless to offer a hesitant, crooked grin back to her.

He feels Sin relax at his side, feels joy radiate from him as he goes loose and eases when he sees Sloan. It nearly makes Nightmare nauseous, the sweetness of it, the love, but the souls he consumed days ago help take the edge off it.

Sloan’s eyes flick to the door, her head tilting towards it before she slowly extracts herself from her Den, slipping through the door. The other see her go, Nightmare can see it in their knowing smirks and glances, but no one says anything to stop her. No one mocks her, and no one says anything as Sin and Nightmare slowly move to follow her.

Sin catches up first, needing to be close, still needing reassurance and affection, something soft as he sinks his fingers between hers as he takes her hand. Sloan smiles up at him, and Nightmare basks in their softness.

“So.” He can hear the happiness in her tone as he falls in step with her, feels her soul song humming in delight, “You’re staying?”

Nightmare shrugs, and gives her a crooked smile, “Might as well.” He tells her like the cheeky brat he gets to be with her, “I mean, its safe here. We have food, water, shelter. All the basic necessities.”

Sloan snorts and nudges his shoulder at his teasing words and leads them to the hall, and a door they hadn’t gone through before. Its one Nightmare had always thought was a closet, and he frowns a little when Sloan pulls the door open.

It’s a set of stairs that lead into a dark basement, and Nightmare feels the swell of protection magic that Sloan has layered here.

The spells are heavy with her intent, knows that if she didn’t want them there, the magic wouldn’t allow them to pass through the threshold, and Nightmare relaxes. He’s not stupid enough to think that she would bring them here if it meant them harm.

Still, Sin grins as he leans into her side and mock whispers, “Sloan? We don’t have skin for you to make a coat out of.”

She laughs lightly, giving him a half-hearted slap to his ribs with absolutely no heat, “It’s the treasure room.” She deadpans, leaning into the steps to flip the light on, and pale-yellow light floods the tight space of the staircase.

Sin grins at her, and it draws a crooked grin from Nightmare, bright and amused as Sloan tugs Sin down the steps and into the basement, “Down here isn’t necessarily the most important items, we don’t value gold and jewels. Anything we truly value are Den, Coven, territory.” She looks down to Nightmare with a smirk, “Weapons. Knowledge. That would be kept in the armory, but _other_ people would want our treasures. So its kept in the basement, and protected.”

She leads them down deeper, as the stairs spiral, longer then it should be, and Nightmare blames the weird physics on mage magic. Her hand tightens around Sin’s as they come to another door, thick and heavy, filled with volatile mage magic. It prickles at his own magic as Sloan pushes through the door, tugging Sin into a dimly lit room.

Magic lights, just like the ones that light up the path in the early mornings during the run, gently turn on, bathing the wide room in soft blue light and Nightmare feels a brow quirk. The room _sparkles_ with gems and treasure, actual treasure. Under glass containers on table, diamonds the size of his fist gleam and rubies glitter like blood on a table.

There’s a wall of swords that Nightmare is certain Lilith would never carry into battle; not with emeralds sunk into hilts made of silver and gold. Platinum swords sparkle in the light, and sapphire gleam like water.

Sin’s mouth falls open, and his awed words perfectly capture what Nightmare thinks, “Holey shit.”

Sloan’s bell like laugh is the only answer as she leads them deeper into the treasure room, and the gems glitter all around them in a dizzy array of color.

“Everything in this room was won by one of us.” She tells them quietly, leading them through a row of polished shields that Nightmare is certain never saw real battle. Not with them being made of gold and silvers.

She leads them through the winding paths, around more jewelry, earrings, bracelets, and bangles. Arm bands made of soft metal and precious stones glint in the soft light, as pretty as the night sky. Nightmare follows along at a sedated pace, glancing around appreciatively. 

His eye catches a table, protected by thick glass, and something that looks like battered metal carefully laid out along the polished wood. There’s extra protection layered along the glass, but the content doesn’t look like anything special. The flat metal pieces look beaten and worn, like they had seen battle, and it makes Nightmare pause, “What’s that?” he asks roughly, nodding to the table.

Sloan pauses, looks to what he’s looking at and her smile falls a little. The table and the glass with the weird flat metal is heavily protected, more so then the precious stones, and it doesn’t take a genius to see these _mean_ something.

Leading them over in a little detour, Sloan offers them a sad grin, “They’re dog tags.” She tells them quietly, stopping at the clean glass, and under the cool light of magic, the dull steel gleams. There are hundreds of them, each one carefully laid out, face up and the tiny, engraved lettering is barely readable.

Each one nestled tightly against the other, each one a memory, and when Sloan speaks, her voice is far softer, “Each one is a Den mate, allies, friends and lost Dens. We remember the forgotten, the ones that everyone else wants to forget about.”

Her dark eyes glance over the flat pieces of metal, her smile a little hallow when she points to a dull grey piece of metal near the middle, “That one’s my moms.” She offers them a shrug, “She died protecting us from Lilith’s mother when she turned traitor. Protected Lilith and I both and went down fighting.”

Nightmare feels her heart go heavy and her soul warbles out a song of sadness that he can taste. “She was a hero.” Sloan told them softly, before she shook herself out, and offered them both a smile, “Come on, I want to show you both something else.”

It’s a deflection, and Nightmare can see the hurt, can briefly feed off it as she leads them away from the memory of the dead, and through another gauntlet of gems and precious metals. All the way to the back of the room and a wall of crowns.

Nightmare frowns at it, each crown seemed to float just before the wall, like invisible hands kept them secured like a trophy. Each one had stones that glittered like stars, each one silver or gold, as they hung vertically on the wall, with a little plaque.

Nightmare gets close, feels his soul go heavy when the one nearest reads _King Athour, Sloan_.

“Mages,” Sloan said suddenly looking up at the wall of crowns with shimmering blue eyes, and her hand tightened around Sin’s, “Don’t bend to Kings or Royals. We don’t kneel to _anyone_.” There’s a sudden tension that coils through her, anger that makes her eyes go hard, and Nightmare thinks its pertinent to reframe from reminding her that she claimed the fuck out of him the night before.

It’s a warm, pleasant memory, and he wisely keeps it to himself.

“These crowns represent every King, Queen and Royal we have ever killed. Human, mage, fairy tale, it doesn’t matter to us. This wall is every self-important cruel mother fucker that we took out and claimed their crown for our selves.” She quietly reaches into her inventory, and Sin goes still as she pulls out the gold crowns of his worlds Toriel and Asgore.

Nightmare glances to the two of them, both tight with anticipation and emotion that swirls through them. He glances to the little plate with Sloan’s name on it, and he frowns. The next one to it has Lilith’s name, as does the one above it. Felix’s name is on the plaque below, “These are proof of your kills.” He tells her quietly.

She nods, still not looking at him as she slowly approaches the wall, holding out the two crowns like an offering. Invisible hands seem to lift them from Sloan’s delicately, lifting them up to empty spaces, side by side, and the little silver plaque appeared, burning in blue magic before letters engraved themselves in the metal.

_Queen Toriel, Sloan_

_King Asgore, Sloan_

Nightmare looks back to the other plates with a frown, “Lilith and Felix’s names are here quite a bit.” He says mildly, glancing to Sloan, who’s staring intently at the crowns, and to Sin, who’s wide eyed and far too still.

Sloan nods, “Yeah. The Coven leaders, no matter who was in charge, used to have a saying. If you needed a King dead, wage a War and Death will follow.” She gave a little shrug as her name burned warmly in the dim metal plate to claim the kills, “Lilith and I may have been a better team on the battle field, but Lilith and Felix were an unstoppable duo when it came to strategic attacks.”

Nightmare hums and looks back up to the wall of the dead and settles. Each crown a story, a tyrant that died by their hands, a kill that marked their souls, and Nightmare wants to know the tales. All of them, he wants to know what happened in the war, the close calls and the victories. Their losses, everything that made them who they are today, and Nightmare wants to _know._

Sin makes a weak, small noise that draws their attention to him with a frown, and Nightmare sees the look of hurt in his expression before his soul swells with the agony of memories. The look is excruciating, near unbearable and Nightmare feels his body tense, fearing that Sin might just break.

He’s still beside Sin, his hands balling into fists as he stares at the crowns when Sloan suddenly slides against him, drawing him into a hug.

Her words are soft but strong, like something with a steel core when Nightmare can only watch helplessly, “It’s okay my beloved. It’s okay.”

Sin bows around her, his head falling to her shoulder when his throaty voice murmurs, “Sorry.” 

He goes to lift a tentacle to coil around Sin’s spine, to provide what comfort he could and can only stare blankly when nothing happens. His magic doesn’t even boil or lift, still to watery and weak to form the limb, and Nightmare can only roll his eye light at himself.

Sometimes, sometimes he was still an idiot.

He shuffles awkwardly forward, he’s not really great with this, emotions in general are hard for him, but he’d fucked up once already. No need to do a repeat, he could _learn_.

He awkwardly places his hand to Sin’s lower spine, his thumb brushing at the bone of his hips while Sloan rubbed his shoulders.

“Don’t be sorry.” Sloan whispers to him, her soul full of her affection and love, making Nightmare wince a little.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset by this.” He murmurs against her shoulder, and he squeezes her tightly.

“Could be the trauma.” Nightmare adds plainly, and it makes Sin laugh at least.

He’s still full of stress, still tense in a way that has to hurt, even as Sloan pulls away from him. His expression is twisted in pain, uncertainty, even as Sloan brushes a thumb under his socket.

“Hey, I have an idea. Something that might cheer you up.” She told them softly, waiting for Sin’s nod before she gives him a delighted grin, “Okay. Follow me.”

She takes his hand, nods for Nightmare to follow along, sinking her fingers between Sin’s to lead him away from the wall of crowns. Nightmare looked back at the glittering wall and sneered. He didn’t know the stories, would one day, but if Toriel and Asgore were among the dead, Nightmare wouldn’t doubt they were in good company.

He looks away, and follows Sloan further into the treasury and forgets about the gold and silver crowns.

No, he’d rather see what Sloan has in store to cheer up Sin.

“I’m sure,” she tells them as she leads them around a table of more precious gems, dark eyes looking through the tables until she smiles at what she’s found, “That you’ve felt Lilith’s magic on Sans.”

Sin shrugs, and Nightmare nods, “Sure. She’s got it layered on thick.”

Sloan nodded, stopping at a table with diamonds and emeralds. Rubies the size of her fist, and in the centre of the table is a thick wrap bracelet made of dark leather. It looks to be made of five cords of leather, the centre one being the thickest with tiny specs of diamonds imbedded into the leather. Sloan lets go of Sin’s hand, picking up the bracelet, running a thumb over the diamond encrusted material.

Slumping a little, Sin perches at the edge of the table, looking a little uncertain at the bracelet, brow furrowing in confusion at her as he hangs onto every soft word she speaks.

“She does.” Sloan agrees, magic coming to her eyes and it sparks at her fingers, “Its as much protection as it is a claiming. Anyone who can sense magic, will see that Sans belongs to her, and she as much to him. But her magical signature is all over him, imbedded into most of his clothes, his shoes, his sweater. Things he wears most commonly. You only have to walk past Sans to know he has an attachment to my sister.”

Nightmare snorts, “Yes, she is a little overprotective, isn’t she?”

Sloan grins, “You’ve no idea.” She lifts the wrap bracelet to her lips, breathing softly onto the leather, “Its also a warning. If anyone were to harm Sans, they know they will deal with Lilith. There’s also a layer of defensive magic there as well. Powerful, protective spells that have been layered into him over time from Lilith, that if activated would attack and harm a would-be aggressor.”

Closing her eyes, Sloan’s mouth moves against the leather, pushing intent and affection into it, pushing protective magic as well. It’s her own magical signature, her own claiming until the dark leather shone blue and the diamonds glittered like sapphire. It shone like clean water, waves on the beach until she stopped murmuring into the material and the magic faded back into dark leather.

Even from where he stood, Nightmare can feel the magic from her, feel her _want_ to safe guard Sin, as she takes his hand and brushes her mouth against his knuckles in a brief kiss, “It’ll also remind you that I’m here, and I love you.” Sin’s face burns in a blush that makes Nightmare grin, “When your feeling sad, you’ll feel my magic with you.”

Sloan wraps the warm leather around Sin’s narrow wrist, the dark bands sparkle with the specs of diamonds that have been sunk into the leather, shimmering with the magic that Sloan has put into it. It’s a claiming, declaring to all the world that Sin belonged to her, _to Pestilence,_ and it makes something warm in Nightmare’s body. To let the world know that there were consequences for hurting Sin, that there was someone bigger and stronger then he they would answer to, should they try to do him harm, no different then a Fell world collar.

It makes something trickle down to the base of his spine like a warm hand as arousal spreads through him.

Sin looks to the leather wrap bracelet, the black leather making his lovely ivory bones glow softly, and Sloan’s warm magic circled his wrist, and finally some of the unease melted from Sin’s body, “Thanks Sloan.” He tells her thickly, choked with emotion, and Nightmare dips into his well of negativity to sustain his soul when he feels Sin starting to pull himself out of the pool of hurt and sadness.

Sloan grins up at him, delighted that he liked her gift, that he _wanted_ her to claim him. _~~Nightmare does too, but not yet. They’ll get there. This isn’t about him.~~_

“I’m glad you like it.” She tells him, pushing herself between his knees, her thighs bumping at the wood of the table he’s perched against.

Sin’s stills, his sockets going wide when Sloan bites her lower lip coyly before she pushes herself up to her toes to offer a kiss. It’s one that Sin’s near desperate to take, his arms going around her slim shoulders to cling to her, deepening their kiss.

Nightmare grins, leaning against the wall at his back and crosses his arms. Sometimes he struggles with knowing what to do when one of his is hurting, especially Sin, his pretty little assassin. Yet, Sloan always seems to know what to do, what to say to ease him, when Nightmare was lost, and for now he was happy to let her take point. He would learn from her, eventually.

In the meantime, he’s more then satisfied to watch his Star and his Assassin, watch as their long bodies press against each other, feels their arousal grow under soft hands and urgent kissing. Nightmare feels his own magic firming between his legs, and he steps his feet apart to better accommodate as his cock hardens in his pants.

They’re so pretty together, so smart and strong, and _his._ Watching them settles that territorial little thing in his soul, sooths the hurt he feels from everything that’s happened, and for now at least, he doesn’t let anything else beyond the soft, happy noises of his mates matter.

Sin’s hands carefully make their way down the back of Sloan’s shoulders, the paleness of his bones so beautiful against her perfect dark skin, and Nightmare bites back a sound as Sloan pushes up into Sin’s hands.

Sin reaches down lower, cupping her ass to give a small squeeze, drawing a soft noise from Sloan as she reaches between his legs, cupping at the hard length in Sin’s jeans. He jerks in surprise, making Nightmare startle as well, and Sloan pulled back.

She drops back down to her feet, looking up at Sin with wide, worried eyes and kiss swollen lips, “I’m sorry.” She rushes, drawing a frown from Nightmare as well, not understanding. He could feel their arousal from where he was, “Was that too much?”

Ah. Nightmare gets it before Sin does, sees the problem click in his addled mind that Sloan is worried about him, and that does _nothing_ to soften the tightness in his pants. If anything, he gets harder at her concern, her _adoration_ to Sin, that she would push her own physical pleasure aside for his emotional comfort. 

It’s unnecessary, of course, but it shows devotion that no one has shown to he or Sin before.

Sin blinks slowly at her before his hand caught her delicate one, so much power in such an elegant limb and he presses a small kiss to her knuckles before Sin presses her hand back between his legs, “S’fine. Just startled me.” He reassured her, offering her a crooked smile, more like himself then ever, “I want _you_ too.”

It’s permission, _consent_ , and Nightmare swallows a moan when Sloan looked _excited._ Sloan is looking a little wild eyed, aroused as she presses the heal of her hand into his erection, before her smile beams when he groans.

Sin drops his head to her shoulder, making little pleased noises that make something warm pool in Nightmare’s belly and he can _smell_ the arousal from them. Tilting her head, Sloan gives him a mischievous grin, “Nights?” he tilts his head towards her, his own grin wide and delighted, “Are you joining us?”

Its tempting. So very tempting. “No.” he tells her gently, palming himself, “I have the best seat in the house.”

Sloan’s smile grows, and he can’t see what she’s doing to Sin with her hand, but it draws a weak noise from him, “Well then, best make it a good show.”

She turns to Sin, and Nightmare feels warmth fill his lower body as she pushes Sin lightly back so he’s sitting fully on the table. He pulls her up, pulling her directly into a scalding kiss, as Sloan’s hands disappear under his black t-shirt, her nails scrape lightly against his ivory bones.

Their hands are desperate, and Sloan’s mouth is clever, and Nightmare nearly comes in his pants when she pushes Sin back by his shoulders so he lays against the mahogany table, shoving diamonds and rubies off it as if they mean nothing. The gems glitter as they fall, hitting the floor with little _plonks_ as Sloan lays Sin back delicately, like he’s the most precious thing in this room. That he means more then all the gems, then all the precious metals.

 _He does_ , Nightmare realizes as Sloan leans over him, her mouth on his throat as her hands go for the belt of his jeans. He catches teasing glimpses of silky skin of her clit, her body glistening in the dim light when Sin reaches up her dress, his fingers hooking into her lacy panties to carefully pull them down.

It should have been awkward to pull her panties off and to push his pants down, but somehow, they make it look like a dance they’ve done for years, gentle and with all the care in the world. When Sloan sinks slowly down onto Sin, wrapping him in her velvety heat, her legs bracketing his hips, Sin fights to hold still.

His head tilts back with a groan, and it takes everything in Nightmare not to go over and claim Sin with his own mouth, to sink his teeth into his collar bone and mark him. To mess him up, and tell everyone just who Sin belongs to by utterly wrecking him.

Instead, he palms himself and watches his mates move against each other. Watches as Sloan starts to ride Sin slowly, her voice teasing and soothing as he bucks up into her, but she’s in total control. Sin is happy to have given up to her, and Sloan doesn’t disappoint as she rides him hard. Nightmare bites his tongue when he sees Sloan throw her head back in ecstasy, sighing softly as pleasure washes over her. She’s beautiful like that, lost to her own bliss, her hair swaying softly against her shoulders.

Leaning against the wall at his back, Nightmare tilts his head to watch her curly hair bouncing against her shoulders, shiny and soft, and her skin glows under the blue light of the orbs. He thinks he might come apart at just the tiny sounds Sloan makes, soft and pleased as she rides Sin.

Sin doesn’t last long, can’t, not with Sloan gripping his shoulders, leaning forward to press her weight into him. Sin digs his heels into the legs of the table, making soft, choked noises as he clings to Sloan.

He comes with a cry, making Sloan gasp as he bucks helplessly up into her body, his feet scrabbling for purchase against the legs of the table but finding none. Sloan throws her head back with a sigh, glossy hair flicking over her shoulder as her own orgasm chases Sin’s. She came around him, her own slick coating Sin as his magic filled her, and Nightmare licks his teeth.

He’s hard and aroused, need itching through him as Sloan sighs and goes boneless against Sin. She leans forward against him, her head on his chest as Sin’s arms came up around her, his fingers in her hair. They’re both panting, slick with sweat, and Nightmare is sure he hasn’t seen anyone look more beautiful then they do.

Pushing herself up with a satisfied sigh, with Sin still buried deep inside her, Sloan gives him a slick grin, her mouth brushing at his in a soft kiss, “You alright beloved?”

Sin sighs, and nods, still warm and loose under her hands as Nightmare pushes himself off the wall, slowly meandering to them, carefully stepping over and around the large gems that Sloan shoved to the ground. He nears the things that’s most precious to him, fingers trailing up Sloan’s calf before he pulls himself up onto the table near their heads.

He brushes his fingertips at Sin’s lower jaw, his yellow eye lights going to little hearts that make Nightmare smile. He glances up to Sloan from under his brow, relishes in her pleased expression, and needs to taste the sweat on her skin.

Leaning forward, Nightmare presses a deep kiss to Sloan’s mouth, his tongue rolling over hers, before he nips at her lower jaw. Her chuckle vibrates through them, before she asks, “Did you enjoy the show?”

Nightmare hums, reaches down to brush at the top of Sin’s skull, fingers sweeping along the crack in his cheek, “Oh I did.” He nearly purrs as he nuzzles at her throat, “Very much.”

Sin whines between them despite how Sloan chuckles, and Nightmare feels hesitant hands at his own pants as Sin brushes a teasing thumb up along the inside of his knee.

Sloan’s breath ghosts along his throat, and Nightmare sighs when her warm words are followed by teasing nips, “I think we should see what Sin’s mouth can do.”

Under them, Sin’s bright chuckle is all Nightmare needs to know he’s game, willing and wanting. His eager hands barely fumble with the belt as he urges Nightmare’s pants down.

Nightmare sighs as Sin draws him into his mouth, and Sloan pulls him in for another burning kiss so he can taste her.

They touch him gently, with ease. Sin spread out for them on the table and as Sloan begins to ride him again, Nightmare feels Sin’s moan vibrate through him. Sighing into Sloan’s mouth, Nightmare relaxes and gives into the pleasure his lovers are plying onto him.

For a while, Nightmare forgets about the multiverse, and the threats that might come with it, and stays in the now. He relishes in the fact that he gets to keep this, gets to stay here, and gets to be happy.

He lives for the moment when he realizes that he gets to keep Sin and Sloan.

-

Cross legged on his bed, Felix is light spirited and bright smiles as he holds Wine’s sharp fingered hand in his own, carefully running a file down the edge of a clawed finger.

Wine’s changed into relaxing day clothes, a dark pair of stylish shorts that came to his knee, showing off his delicate, but scared legs. His button up shirt was a light grey, sleeves rolled up past his elbows and the top two buttons were popped open, showing off his shapely collar bones.

His body is thin and delicate compared to Sans’s heavy set frame, his body scared all to hell, but Felix thinks he’s the pretties monster he’s seen. Prettier even then the delicate Muffet, hotter then even Grillby, if anyone had bothered to ask Felix.

They should ask him things more regularly, it’s not like he’s wrong often, but such was life.

Handling Wine’s hand like it’s the most precious thing to him, Felix carefully twists his wrist, dragging the file across the edge of his claw, sharpening it to a fine point. Wine relaxes, his body loose and comfortable, the silence between them a sweet one, something comforting and Wine isn’t afraid of him.

“So.” Felix says plainly, an unusually soft smirk curling at his mouth, his own soul soothed by Wine’s mere presents, “You’re stuck here now?”

Wine’s shark tooth mouth twists into his own soft grin. His eye lights are soft and hazy around the edges in his relaxation, and Felix _likes_ it, “Can’t exactly be stuck when I want to be here.” He tells Felix roughly, voice throaty and deep, sending a shiver down Felix’s spine.

His grin widens when Felix goes red, from hair line to his throat, and Wine wonders what that blush would taste like.

“I’m glad you stayed.” He murmured, setting aside the file, brushing his thumb along the edge of Wine’s thumb, bashful and embarrassed to admit it.

Wine grins, “Me as well.” Felix lets go of his hand, allows Wine to flex his fingers, his claws clicking softly together, deadly and sharp enough to cut through flesh. Felix had done good work, his claws are as sharp as razors, and twice as vicious, and he smiles, “Thank you Felix.”

Still oddly bashful, and it makes Wine chuckle softly when Felix nods, “Anytime.” It’s sweet, kind in a way, that Felix hadn’t had someone to really love on before Wine and hadn’t expected to _keep_ him. Felix wasn’t secretive about his past lovers and his love life, and it was more then clear that he didn’t expect Wine to stick around.

Or want to keep him, if Wine had options to leave.

It’s a shame, really, that Felix was so uncertain with him, when he had all the makings of a good mate. Strong and loyal, and it certainly didn’t hurt that Felix was pretty. Cute in a way that had been eradicated in Swapfell, and Wine can barely believe that Felix wants to be _his_.

Grinning, Wine looks up at Felix from under a scared brow, his smile a little more mischievous as he climbs into Felix’s lap. He could have laughed, and almost did, at his shocked expression and Wine doesn’t mind seeing this side of Felix. He likes it, when all the swagger and sass is stripped away, and Wine gets glimpses of the side Felix hides away.

“I should really say thank you.” Wine mutters boldly, feeling his own flush rise along his cheek bones, feeling very much out of his element despite being the one who climbed into Felix’s lap.

Going stiff under his hands, pressing his bared shoulders dangerously into Wine’s sharpened claws, Felix’s breathing hitches and Wine can feel a fine tremble rush his body.

Blinking at him, Felix relaxes quickly, his crooked grin becoming _less_ shy as he calms and his large hands circle under Wine’s thin hips to support him. Pulling his thin body to his thicker chest, Felix gives him a toothy smile as his eyes flash yellow with his desire, and that shyness is quickly replaced with something warmer. Something full of affection, “I think I would like that.”

That’s all Wine needs before he’s leaning forward, sockets sinking shut as he presses his mouth to Felix’s in a fierce kiss, careful with his razor teeth as to not cut Felix’s lip as he draws him into a deeper kiss. Felix’s tongue rolled over his own, sending a shiver through his body and caused magic to rise through him with a sigh, and warmth to spread through his body from his soul.

He feels it then, Felix’s soul song, warbling a hesitant bleep of affection just before he goes stiff, pulling away with a grimace. Wine feels a pulse of hurt in his soul when Felix pulls away with a disgusted look on his face, expression like he bit into something overpoweringly sour, and Wine’s own expression falls.

That. That had not been what he was expecting.

Felix wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, dragging his tongue along his skin like he’s trying to wipe out a bad taste from his mouth, and Wine’s soul goes from hurting to trilling in agony and rejection. That seems to make Felix look up, still grimacing at what ever awful taste their kiss had produced and finally sees the look of utter devastation in Wine’s expression.

The disgust fades as Felix blinks at him, turning to horror as he _realizes_ what he did, and his arms quickly go around Wine’s waist, to keep him from running, “Wait, no baby, it wasn’t you.” He says in a rush when he feels Wine’s body go tense, like he’s getting ready to bolt and he desperately wishes he had Sans’s ability to short cut.

Wine wants to, he wants to just _disappear_ and hide forever. He hadn’t thought he was that horrible, that his magic tasted so terribly that Felix would react so strongly to it, and he hates how useless, stupid tears are suddenly lining his sockets.

Felix looks devastated and holds him a little tighter, drawing him in close to his chest, “Wait. No. Please, just.” He huffs a sigh, reaches out to smudge a tear away before it falls, “It wasn’t you Wine.”

Wine doesn’t believe him, not with a reaction like that, and his throat closes as hurt sings through his soul. He thought…had thought that, maybe Felix…actually really liked him.

“I just tasted Lilith’s magic.” He burst out, his voice taking on a panicked tone and eyes wide in horror, “It wasn’t you, I promise love, I wasn’t expecting to taste,” he makes a frustrated noise, cupping Wine’s cheek, looking remorseful and sorry.

Wine blinks hard, trying to wink away the tears that just wouldn’t stop gathering, “What?” his voice is throaty and hurt, and not understanding.

Felix sighs, running his thumb along the top of his hip bone, “Lilith’s magic. She blessed armor to you, I know it was because she was closest, and didn’t impact it in deep so its near the surface of your body.” He grimaces again, “I wasn’t expecting to actually taste her magic on you.”

Some of the tension leaks away, and Wine slumps against his hard body, “So, it’s not me?” his voice is small and delicate, like he was going to shake apart.

Horror twists in Felix’s expression as his other hand comes up to cup his face properly, “Oh baby no.” his voice is a little gaspy as Felix leans back against the wall, drawing Wine into a gentle hold, “No, not at all. It’s not you.” He gives a little frown again, “No one wants to taste their sister’s magic.”

A little of the hurt eases from his soul, softens the hurt as Felix brushes a thumb along Wine’s cheek, brushing at the vicious crack under his socket. “Lilith,” Wine’s voice went thick, choking him a little that makes Felix frown, “Lilith said you could rip it out of me. Replace it with your own.”

Felix pauses, blinks at Wine before a grin is slow to grow, his eyes gleaming gold with growing excitement, “Do you want me too?”

Wine drops his sockets, clearing his throat and his face burns with a crimson blush as he nods, “I do.”

Biting his lower lip, the horror fades from Felix’s expression and his eyes light up in excitement. He draws Wine in for another kiss, gentle and soft, kissing away any of the hurt from the misunderstanding. His tongue rolls over Wine’s again in a deep, claiming kiss, but as Felix kisses him, he pushes magic into Wine’s body hard.

Wine sighs, sockets slipping shut as pleasure washes over him, soft and gentle as he accepts Felix’s magic pushing into his body, firmly pushing Lilith’s out.

With a soft laugh against his sharp teeth, Felix lowers his hand to his spine, supporting his shoulders and hips before he flips them, pressing Wine flat to his bed. The hurt washes away, the fierce agony soothed as Felix presses soft kisses into his chin and down his scared throat as Felix pins him down lightly.

The mage’s knees bracket Wine’s narrow hips, his muscular body held up over Wine’s thin frame as Felix bowed over him, his hands ghosting up his belly to start to slowly unbutton his shirt. Wine gasps softly as Felix’s hands brush delicately over his ribs, his tongue against his throat as Felix tastes his scars, and all the while pushing more and more magic into his body. Blessing him, with armor. Marking him as Felix’s, his magical signature telling anyone loud and clear just who Wine was dating.

Wine gasps as Felix’s clever mouth nips at his collar bone, his hands pushing open his shirt as Felix’s fingers lay lightly over his scared rib cage. Wine’s hands come up to Felix’s head, his fingers carefully digging into his short hair, scraping lightly against his buzzed sculp.

Arching into Felix’s touch, his hands and mouth, he gasps out, “I want you in my collar.”

Felix pauses as he slivers down Wine’s body, nipping at the top of his sternum, gold eyes glancing up at Wine and he grins. Felix’s breath ghosts over his bones as he nuzzles into Wine’s rib cage, “I don’t know what that means love.”

Wine pants softly as Felix continues to lick and taste his bones, pressing more of his magic into his body, slow and careful, _sensually_.

“It’s what your doing to me now.” He gasps, feeling his own magic growing thick but unformed in his pelvis, and he squirms as pleasure creeps through his body. Felix hums, his tongue tracing along the edge of a rib, “It would mark you as mine.”

Felix makes a pleased noise, and when he glances up from under his brow, Wine is thrilled to see his delight, his interest. His hands are teasing and lovely, and oh so large. Wine groans when he realizes that if Felix wraps his hands around his rib cage, he could almost touch his thumbs at his sternum and his fingers could almost brush at his spine.

“I-it would be my magical signature.” Wine gasps at his touch as Felix nips at the bottom of his rib cage, “Claim you as mine. Not in ownership of course, no.” he groaned again, as Felix licks his way back up Wine’s rib cage, “But like this. That there is someone out there that cares about you.” Felix makes another pleased noise, like he likes it, “That if someone tries to hurt you, they will deal with me.”

“Will they?” Felix’s warm breath ghosts along his throat, nipping at Wine’s scared neck before he nuzzled into his vertebra, pushing more magic into Wine’s body until Lilith’s is washed away completely.

Felix’s voice goes low and husky when he whispers, “I would like that.” Wine groans, his body bucking up into Felix’s as he clings to the mage’s shoulders, “I want you to put your claim on me.” Felix kisses his way to Wine’s chin, “I want you to mark me.”

Wine groans again, and clings onto Felix, his purr is rough with disused when it suddenly starts up.

Felix chuckles, delighted and soft, and when his soul song sings out with his deep, unquestioning love, Wine can only sigh, his breath warm against Felix’s shoulder as he clings to his sleeveless top. His soul sings back to Felix’s, full of his own love and affection, accepting Felix’s magic over his bones, pulling it deeply into his body, into his core. Marking him as Felix’s.

Wine sighs out, “I love you.”

Felix pauses, and for a moment Wine fears it’s the wrong thing to say before Felix loosens and breaths a gentle sigh of relief. He nuzzles into Wine’s throat, and sighs warmly against the scared bones, his hands lovely on his ribs when he whispers back like a secret, “I love you too.”

Wetness prickles at his sockets that were quickly kissed away by his mate, and Wine is delighted to give himself over to the mage. Felix is gentle and calm, so careful with his thin bones, touched him like no one had before, not with this much kindness, tenderness that leaves Wine in awe.

For once, Wine is loved, _can_ love openly without prosecution.

All other thought is pushed from Wine’s mind, all his worries are soothed, and he gives into Felix’s gentle, _clever_ mouth, and is loved.

-

Heaving a sigh into the muggy summer air, Lola wipes the sweat from her brow as she steps out from the cool forest and into the sunny spot on a rock. In the midst of excitement and sheer joy, Glass had seen himself out, hunched up and hurt, wanting to be alone when everyone else was bursting with excitement.

While everyone else was busy celebrating and being happy, Glass was miserable with a bruised soul. That made something pang through Lola, made something tender ache in her heart, that Glass was hurting. It had hurt to see him so upset, and she feared that maybe Glass did want to leave. Maybe he already had a home out there, else where, and would be bitter and resentful towards them for keeping him trapped here.

She hopes that isn’t the case, she would be sad to see him go, but Lola wasn’t in the habit of keeping people hostage when they decided they wanted to leave. It would hurt, no doubt, especially in the face of her brothers and sisters blossoming relationships.

They were all so happy, it was almost unfair that she was going to lose Glass, the member of the Crew she grew close too. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she would ask Nightmare to take him home, wherever that maybe, if that was what Glass wanted.

Even, if that made her sad, _would_ make her sad to lose her friend, that it was her favorite that left.

Taking another deep breath, Lola stepped carefully out onto the rock face, the same out cropping that she took Glass to the day of their hike. The very same one that he could short cut to if he needed to be alone, and wanted to be away.

It was the only place Lola could think to look for him, when she slipped away from the others who were celebrating the Crew staying and couldn’t find him in the back yard or by the lake. She had worried, for a moment, before she pulled on her hiking boots and started her climb.

She cheated, of course, tracing up the rock faces to get to him, but the thought of Glass miserable and alone while everyone else was happy pressed in on her heart like a bruise. She had moved as quickly as she could, tracing up rock faces and over rough terrain to find him.

The relief is bittersweet when she sees him, sitting at the edge of the waterfall, curled up and hunched in on himself, his heavy orange bomber nearly swallowing him, he’s curled so tightly inward. It’s grief, Lola thinks, that’s making him react that way, and her heart feels heavy. He must want to go home if he’s so sad and hurt, must think he’s trapped here with them. He must have someone waiting on him, if he’s this put out about it, and that makes something ache in Lola’s soul.

It shouldn’t matter, _didn’t_ matter, because Glass isn’t hers to claim. They’re friends, and she wants him to be happy.

Taking a breath, Lola mentally prepares herself for the rejection that is surely coming, that Glass doesn’t want to be apart of their Den, and she knows its going to hurt. She makes her way over to him loudly, her boots crunching into the rock, announcing her presents with her heavy foot falls. He barely glances up at her as she drops down beside him with a sigh.

Overlooking the bright green valley below them, lush with life and the sound of rushing water to sooth them, Lola looks over to Glass with a frown and takes in his misery. He looks so hurt, so upset by this, that it makes Lola sad as well. Sad that he couldn’t be happy here.

He’s sweating harder then she is, dressed in heavy black jeans and his bomber, and she can see his black t shirt is soaked through from just sitting in the sun. He won’t look at her, drawing heavily on his cigarette, and allowing the grey, acidic smoke to curl ruthlessly from his empty sockets, looking like something from a horror flick.

Lola settles in, feels her soul swell with the need to help him, and she refuses to be afraid of her Den mate, “You okay?” she asks softly, earning a snort from him.

“The fuck do ya care?” he spits, anger in his tone as his big hand lifts the smoke back up to his sharp teeth for another drag.

Lola frowns, straightens a little at that. That…wasn’t what she expected from him. “Because you’re my friend, and if your upset I want to help.” She told him boldly, pushing her shoulders back to sit up tall and proud.

Glass sneers, “My friend eh? Yeah, some friends I got here.”

Lola frowns, feels her heart hurt and her soul throb with his words, “I am your friend Glass.” She told him firmly, glancing away, knowing that he’s about to reject her and her Den. She tries not to think how much this will hurt, “So. I get it.” He snorts again at her words, and there’s a puff of smoke from his skull, “I’ll get Sloan to talk to Nights.”

That draws a frown to her, confused as his brows furrow as she continues, “I’m sure he won’t mind taking you wherever you want to go.”

“What?” he almost sounds angry at that, aghast that she’s offering him a way out, but she persists.

“Do you have some one waiting for you Glass? Someone out in the multiverse?” She asks lightly, softly, and hopes her own hurt isn’t coming out in her tone, “I’m sure if that’s where you want to go, Nightmare wouldn’t mind taking you. Home. I’m sure.”

Glass snarls at her words, growls viciously as his eye lights come back in narrowed slits of light, “Ya wanna get rid of me now!” he hisses at her.

Lola jerks back a little, surprised with wide eyes as emotion crosses Glass’s expression, hurt and betrayed as his teeth clench together in agony, “First y’all lie to me then ya wanna kick me out! You! I.” his voice goes weak and small, thick with emotion.

“I ain’t got nobody.” He hissed at her, looking back down to his feet, his mouth pulled into a bitter, angry line, “Everyone I got, anyone I love is fucking here. Where the fuck am I gonna go? _Home?_ ” he asked bitterly, “To the bitch who killed my bro? Who turned me into a weapon for her own use or a toy for her fucking amusement?”

He shakes his head no, licking one of his gold fangs, making his tongue bleed on the edge of his tooth when his voice goes small, “Fine. Whatever. You wanna be rid of me? Do it. I dun care, take me _home_ if that’s what ya want.”

Stunned by his reaction, Lola frowns at him, straightens up as confusion rolls through her, “You don’t want to leave?” she askes softly, still uncertain and confused.

Glass throws his hands up, angry and bitter, “No! I dun wanna go.” He spat before he deflated, “Why’da wanna send me away?”

Lola pauses, frowns, and fights against her own need to comfort him with touch, to hold him and tell him its okay. He doesn’t have to leave, if he doesn’t want to. Instead she uses her words, tries to dig past his anger, peel it back to see the hurt beneath, “I don’t want to send you away Glass.” Lola tells him softly, sees his hurt, “Why are you so upset? I thought.” She pauses, and frowns, “I thought you’d want to leave.”

Glass huffs, and deflates, scrunching down and shakes his head no as he takes another deep drag from his smoke, “I dun wanna leave.” He muttered quietly, small and hurt, and when Lola reaches out, she lays a small hand on the inside of his elbow. She just isn’t able to sit by and listen to the hurt in his voice

“You can stay Glass.” Lola is quick to reassure, gripping him a little harder at his elbow, “But why are you so upset?” she asks as gently as she can.

He deflates again, sinking lower and his anger simmers down, “You lied to me.” He muttered quiet and soft.

Lola’s brow furrows, her mind scrambling to understand what he’s talking about, and unable to come up with a single thing she told him that was an untruth, “Wait, what?”

“You never told me we were Den mates.” He told her, voice reedy with pain, high in his hurt.

The denial is near on her lips, desperate to make him understand, but she holds it back and bites her tongue. An omission of the truth is still _lying,_ and Glass was hurting because of it, regardless of their intention.

It didn’t matter if it was to keep them safe, to keep their world safe, what mattered was that they were staying, and that Glass was hurting.

“Aint no one who has any good intentions fer me lied ta me. Nightmare never lied ta me, but yall did.” Glass mutters lowly, stabbing his smoke into a rock and stuffing it into his inventory, his eye lights going dim, “The Empress lied ta me all the time.” His accent coming out thicker in his distress.

There’s hurt there, deep seated hurt that had never been dealt with. Trauma heaped onto him from his world, that left him broken. It left him hurting, even with something like this, where there were no winners and someone was bound to be hurt.

“I’m sorry Glass.” Lola said quietly, told him earnestly, drawing startled eye lights back to her, “You’re right. We did lie to you and that wasn’t fair.” Her grip on his elbow tightens ever so slightly, “And I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, and not like this.”

He looks over to her so quickly, his head snaps towards her and she winces when she hears his neck crack and snap. His sharp teeth fall open in shock, and his brows furrow in confusion, “Did you just apologize ta me?” 

Lola blinks at him, “Well. Yeah.” Her head tilts as if that were a no brainer, “Of course I did.” She glances around the valley and the bright green trees, “I hurt your feelings?”

Glass blinks at her, in the trees the songbirds sing, and for a long moment he just stares at her.

“So. You. You’re apologizing ta me?” he blinked at her again, his expression softening.

“Well.” She pauses again, not sure where he’s going with this, “Yeah? It’s what you do when you hurt someone’s feelings.”

“No one’s ever said they’re sorry ta me before.” He told her weakly, looking down to toy with his claws.

Lola puffed up and offered him a grin, “Well, I am.” It was a declaration and promise all in one. He looked up at her from under his brow, so she said again, “I’m sorry Glass. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Glass blinks at her, before he hunches back down with a nod, “Thanks Lola.” He told her thickly.

She nodded, and felt him relax next to her, felt the heat from his body coming off him in waves, felt something let go as he loosened against her with a wet noise.

“You’re welcome Glass.” She told him softly, leaning into his side, slotting herself in neatly against him.

It takes him a little while longer to loosen enough to lean back into her, his larger body pressing into her smaller one, and his cheek pressing into the top of her head. He nuzzled into her hair, and relaxed.

She doesn’t say anything to the small noise in the back of his throat, or the way his teeth chatter. She doesn’t say anything when his throat goes thick with emotion either, “Do ya actually want me ta stay?” he asks, and she can hear the delicate thread of hope in his tone. Such a fragile sense of trust that’s been fractured at the very least.

“Of course, I do Glass. I’d miss you if you were gone.” She told him gently, winding an arm around his waste to give him a sideways hug.

He nods against her hair and can’t get any words out passed the wedge in his throat. Can’t tell her that he’s grateful to stay. That he likes her too, that he’s beyond delighted to be her friend.

He can’t get any of that out, but when he feels _something_ soft brush against his battered soul with the softness of a feather, it must be her soul song. Its gentle and hesitant, humming calmness and affection to his, and he can _feel_ her longing for him to stay.

Glass relaxes against her, feels Lola’s calm, kind soul song sing to his own, and he does something he has a hard time doing.

He lets go of his anger, and forgives his Den for hurting his feelings. It hadn’t been intentional and to some degree Glass can see the reasoning behind it despite his hurt. He lets go of his hurt, _forgives_ , and as he cuddles into Lola’s side, starts to feel better about the whole thing.

Besides, he can’t stay angry at them. His Crew just got a whole lot bigger, and they’re going to need him to help protect them in case Dream or Ink show up.

He hugs Lola back, presses into her side, and enjoys being held by the only person who’s ever thought he was worthy of an apology.

He felt something warm in his chest, something loosens in its softness. Something kind and gentle that Glass has no idea what it is or what it means.

He ignores that soft, warm feeling blooming in his soul, and just holds Lola. She’s relaxed and soft in his arms, unafraid despite the sharpness of his claws or the level of his violence. When he closes his sockets and leans against her, he surprises himself to _know_ he trusts her to keep him safe. That she won’t let him fall, and she’ll look after him until he can pull himself together.

He ignores that too, ignores that he doesn’t trust easily, but he trusts Lola.

He ignores all of that, and for once, just enjoys being held by someone who wouldn’t hurt him. He enjoys being held by someone, who really, really cared about him.

In the end, it’s a nice feeling, and Glass decided he likes it. Likes it enough to forgive an unintended slight and lets himself just have this. He leans against Lola, safe and secure in her arms, and for once, doesn’t think about the horror of his world or the threats of this one, and just is. 

He knows, Lola will keep him safe.


	36. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare finally writes his letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> New Friday, new update. This is a shorter, but I'm really happy how it turned out! :) 
> 
> After this, the next two will be slice of life before we're back into angst and pain! 
> 
> So I've hit some pretty cool mile stones! 6221 hits on this story and 114 twitter followers (you can follow me on twitter at @Flamesacid) so I thought maybe it would be fun to do a raffle! 
> 
> SO! The Rules. 
> 
> If you would be interested in a Mages World short, similar to the Halloween short, based on your prompt, interact with the twitter post or this chapter by November 27th (that's one week) to enter into a raffle. On the 27th I will use a random number generator and pick one person from twitter and one person on AO3. 
> 
> I will then write a short (likely around 1000 words) based on their prompt and the characters of their choice. 
> 
> I also have a pretty chill and quiet Discord, if you would like to join. :) 
> 
> Otherwise, have some fun! 
> 
> Lastly, this will likely be my last Friday update as my work schedule is moving back to Monday to Friday. Updates will most likely be on Saturdays moving forward, or very late Fridays. 
> 
> WARNINGS: none, absolutely none. This chapter is teeth rotting fluff.

Sitting up in Sloan’s bed, a single knee drawn up under the thin blue sheet, Nightmare rests his chin on his propped joint, and watches his lovers sleep.

In the pale light of the moon, that poured in through the open window, Sin and Sloan glow, like the moon accentuated their beauty as it softly touched their naked bodies. Their twined together tightly with Sloan’s head nuzzled into Sin’s sternum, her fingers sunk between his ribs to grip lightly at him. Her fingers curled around his ribs, and his fingers were buried into her ebony hair.

Sin’s head was tilted towards the top of Sloan’s, the picture of peace and love. All soft, warm touches, and Nightmare isn’t stupid enough to think that he did anything to deserve this. He lucked out, that was it, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise.

He was lucky, and he almost lost this. Lost them, with his stubbornness and stupidity.

Sin made a noise suddenly, small and watery, his pretty face scrunching up in hurt, and Nightmare sighs. Sin’s been doing well, going to therapy, talking to the doc., and it _helps_. Yet, he still got nightmares, bad dreams that clung to him like cobwebs, and fuck if Nightmare didn’t get it.

He still had his own bad dreams that haunted him at night, and his momentary helplessness had drudged up a bunch of shit he wasn’t too keen on remembering. Funny thing about trauma, it liked to sneak up on you and get you when you were already feeling like shit.

Focusing back in on Sin, he brushes his hand along Sin’s skull when a shiver runs through his whole body, and Nightmare quietly hushes him. He himself still isn’t back to one hundred percent, his lower legs are still pearly white, as is part of his spine, but at least his skull is back to normal.

Sin groans again, whimpers in his sleep, and Nightmare gives his shoulder a rougher shove, “Sin wake up.” His expression crumples, and Nightmare shakes him a little, his soul crushing inwards at the distress on his face, “You’re safe. Now wake up.”

Sin jerks awake, startled with a snort, eye lights bright with panic before Nightmare catches his shoulder, and eases him back down into their bed before he wakes up Sloan.

“Nights?” his voice is thick with sleep, and disoriented, like he’s confused on where he is.

“You’re fine.” He reassured, his thumb brushing at his temple, urging Sin back to sleep, “You’re safe. Go back to sleep.”

Sin blinks at him owlishly, it takes him a minute to realize where he was and the panic fades. A sleepy, delighted expression crosses his face, and when Sin smiles at him, Nightmare feels his soul warm. He almost lost this, pushed Sin away with his own selfishness, and fate knew what damage he did to Sin with his words.

Damage he still needed to make up for, hurt he still needed to really mend and reassure.

Sin makes a pleased little noise, leaning into Nightmare’s hand, “Mmm. Kay.” His sockets slip shut again, and he lays down at Nightmare’s urging, curling up onto his side. Sloan groans in her sleep, curling into Sin’s chest as he rolls, sweet and warm.

Nightmare brushes a kiss to the side of his skull, soothing him back into warmer dreams, and Sin goes lax between he and Sloan. For a moment, Nightmare embraces the soft feelings in his soul, even the ones that make the darkness in him hurt and just _loves_ Sin and Sloan. Knows how lucky he is too have this, and how he needs to make it up to them.

With a soft sigh, he brushes another kiss to the side of Sin’s skull and quietly climbs out of bed.

He’s just as naked as they are, his body still wrong in a mix of ivory and ebony, and he’s careful to avoid the mirror in Sloan’s room. He doesn’t like to see himself like this, hates to see his body without its power and he’s too weak to summon anything remotely like clothes.

Instead he steps into a pair of Sin’s grey sweats, they’re soft on his bones, if a little too long, and they bunch up at his ankles. Sloan thinks it’s adorable when he wears Sin’s pants, but they’re warm and soft, and that was what Nightmare was going for. It was oddly cold without the power of the corruption to keep him warm, even at the dawn of summer. 

He knows he should sleep, but he’s feeling warm and soft. His feelings are near the surface of his soul, bubbling out with a need to do something with them. He smirks to himself when he thinks about what they usually do when he’s _feeling_ things, but this is different. This feels _intimate._ Letting them, anyone in fact, see the real him, is a terrifying aspect. Its far below the surface of his soul, where he still hid a good portion of himself.

The part of himself that he hasn’t let anyone see in a very long time, the vulnerable part that he wants to give to Sloan and Sin.

Yet, just as before, when he thinks he’s got it, the words won’t come. Won’t work passed the wedge in his throat, and he chokes.

Nightmare maybe a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them and he learned his lesson the first time.

Instead of _agonizing_ , Nightmare does something about it, and in the pale light of the moon, he pulls out the pretty pink paper he liberated from Coffee, and he begins to write.

-

Writing the letters, one for Sin and the other for Sloan, Nightmare quickly discovered was easy once he got going. It was liberating, _freeing_ in a way to put it all out there for the first time. It was simple, with his emotions on the surface of his soul, and in the safety of Sloan’s room, the words had come effortlessly. Poured from him with an ease in a way he could never get out with his voice.

It had been easy to tell the paper how he was feeling, how this was hard for him and how he _loved_ them so fucking much. It had been easy to tell the paper that he would do better, how much he cared and that he was _sorry._

Yet, that only bred a new problem. He had been honest in his letter, very, brutally honest. Tore himself open with razor wire for them, allowed them to see what made him tick, to see the vulnerability inside and he had been more honest with the paper then even himself.

But now, how the fuck was he supposed to give them these fucking letters when he was putting himself into such a vulnerable position. When he was exposing himself so openly, and he _feared_ they would find him unworthy. Would judge him as not enough and reject that small, shy monster that was still buried _very_ deep inside his soul. They would see his insecurity and _laugh._

It was hard still, even with Sin and Sloan, who he trusted with his life, trusted with his _body,_ knew they would go to bat for him, would protect him from any threat, to trust them with this. That cruel, taunting voice that liked to hide in the back of his mind kept whispering that they would mock him, and he would be rejected. It was stupid he knew. Knows that Sin and Sloan would never laugh at him, but still, he’s _concerned._

He’d been hurt, just one too many times. His soul betrayed and broken by everyone who had come before them.

The whole thing was a new level of laughably stupid, but left him with a new ball of anxiety to worry over as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do. 

So, he tried something new. Tried something he had never done before, and he asked for help.

Sort of.

Shoving the doors to the training gym open, the door creaking on its hinges as he strolls inside, Nightmare heaves an annoyed sigh. He’s almost unable to believe that he’s about to actually do, what he’s doing.

Asking for help, what a fucking concept and it leaves a weird taste in his mouth. Leaves him feeling _off_ , like he’s about to do something wrong.

He buries the feeling and storms to the training matts, aiming for Lilith and Red as they spar. He snorts, even _he_ knows its barely concealed flirting, and judging by the brightness in Sans’s eye lights, he’s enjoying the show.

They’re moving fast around each other, stepping into short cuts and traces, dancing around bones and swords, their feet barely touching the matt.

It’s almost like a dance as they glide around each other, and for a moment Nightmare pauses to watch them, following the ebb and flow of their movements. Lilith’s hair is pulled tight into a ponytail, high and swaying behind her, her muscular body dressed in a pair of black biker shorts and a workout bra, her hands and toes taped as she danced around Red.

Red keeps up with her step for step, strike for strike. He’s stripped off his heavy leather jacket with the fur lined hood, wearing a loose black t-shirt and shorts. His gold tooth, and the studs in his collar glint in the bright white light of the training room as he moves easily around her.

The scars on his bones seem deep under the unforgiving lights, and usually Red is self conscious of his body, hiding under a bulky coat and a feral attitude. Red is an asshole, a grade A prick, and there’s a reason he’s Nightmare’s enforcer.

Here, he seems relaxed, almost calm as he throws magical attack after attack at Lilith. Seems delighted when she dips and dodges, deflects his attacks like its nothing. Weaves her way through his attack patterns like the deadly battle mage she was, and wave after wave doesn’t touch her.

He looks like he’s having _fun_ when he ducks under the swing of her blade, and he catches her wrist when she tries to bury a small blade into his ribs, quickly disarming her. He spins the blade in his hand as he quickly backs off, as much an expert, totally at ease with a bladed weapon as she is, even as they sidestep each other carefully.

They’re both grinning, bright and amused, they’re having fun, and off to the side lines, Sans is watching them with bright, keen eye lights.

Nightmare shakes it out, settles his soul and steps out on the mats as they charge each other again; Lilith slices through two bone constructs, a smirk on her face as she charges Red. His grin is equally as bright with vindictive want as she approaches and Nightmare steps between them.

They both gasp as they try to stop around him, Lilith nearly tripping as she tried to stop as hard as she could, so she didn’t go barreling through him. The swords and bones fall away to dust as Lilith comes to a stop a hand span away, her arms pin wheeling as she caught herself and Red reaches around him to steady her.

Nightmare sighs, rolls his shoulders back as Lilith straightens, looking annoyed with narrowed eyes down at him and he tucks his hands behind him at his lower back. He gives her a grin when she huffs down at him, and before she can start in on him for bad decision making, he tells her, “I need your help.”

Lilith blinks at him, calming a little before she groans and rubs at the spot between her eyes with a sigh, “Nights?”

He hums at her, rocking up onto his toes patiently with a grin, even as behind him Red stands down, arms crossed over his chest with a foul curse that only makes Nightmare grin.

“You remember when we first met?” she sighs, dropping her hand to her hip.

He grins up at her, his legs still hidden by a pair of Sin’s pants, and he tilts his head, “I try not to.” He admits with a smirk, like it’s a joke between them.

Lilith ignores him, “You are so bad at this.” She tells him with a sigh, sounding again in awe of his stupidity, mimicking words she said to him from what feels like a whole lifetime ago. She slumps a little, “This is not how you ask for help Nights.”

“Perhaps.” He agrees amicably, and he reminds himself again and again, this is for Sin and Sloan. “But you are going to help me.”

Lilith sighs again, “Nightmare.” She gives him a pained looked, “This is not.” She stops herself with a frown, giving him a perplexed look, “What do you need help with?” she sighs, wiping sweat from her brow.

Ah. Right. He has to actually _tell_ her what he needs.

He takes a breath, “I need your help to deliver a letter.”

Lilith rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms, “Slap a stamp on it and mail it.” He glowers at her, “We are literally in the middle of something.”

“You’re sparring, its barely above flirting. And its not that kind of letter.” He spits at her startling Red. He’s feeling annoyed and angry, and he wishes for his tentacles to form if only to show his irritation to have them rattle. Instead he stares annoyed up at her, and her equally as irritated expression stares back down at him, “It’s for Sin and Sloan.” He hisses.

Lilith rolls her eyes at him as Red leans around him, all devious energy, and a slick grin, “Is it a sexy letter there Nights?” he asks suddenly, with a rumbling purr from his chest and his eye lights burn like embers.

Nightmare turns to him slowly, would have happily strangled him if he hadn’t been so certain that Edge would have taken the death of his brother personally. “Don’t fucking worry about it Red.”

“Is it?” Lilith’s amused voice surprised him, as did the grin that split her face in a rarely seen mischievousness, and Nightmare knows he’s made a mistake. A miscalculation, Lilith was not the correct mage to seek help from. He should have fucking known better then to trust someone who was with Sans and sweet on Red.

He should have gone to Ryder.

He’s about to say how stupid this was. How this was _clearly_ a mistake, when Sans is suddenly beside him. He’s looking just as amused as Red and Lilith, and Nightmare suddenly understands that this is clearly a fucking trap.

Sans slides his arm around his shoulders, like they’re good buddies and close friends, and he guides him away from his mate and what ever the fuck Red is to them. He’s all easy smiles that barely contain his amusement by this whole thing, “That’s awful cute there Nights.”

“Fuck you too.” He hisses, feels his soul swell with the heat of embarrassment and isn’t that a delightful emotion.

Sans takes no offense as he leads Nightmare away, “Look, pal? I love my mate.” Behind them Lilith’s expression goes soft and gooey, and Red has a _look_ , “But asking for love advice from a battle mage isn’t a top tier idea. You’re ah, sparring on the wrong mat here Nights.”

Lilith and Red share an amused look, Lilith taking no offense to what her lover is saying, knows it to be true and they both quickly fall in line behind them. Their amusement hasn’t faded in the least and they don’t bother to even attempt to change out of their training clothes.

“Come on,” Sans says placidly, despite his amusement, as if they don’t have two dangerous shadows looking to be amused at his expense at their backs, “I know someone who can help you.”

Red leans over to Lilith, all wide grins, and his fang glinting in the light, when he mock whispers, “Oh this ought’ta be good.”

Lilith _chuckles,_ it’s a soft and sweet noise, amused by Red’s husky purr and Sans’s eye lights brighten briefly in delight. He flashes his own delighted smirk back at his enforcers, and Nightmare knows he’s made a tragic miscalculation. 

Nightmare sighs and knows its going to be a long fucking day.

-

Sitting at the table, Nightmare is certain he would rather _die_ then continue this conversation. He glowers at his mug, thumbing the edge before he takes a mouthful of sweet tea.

Gaster sits across the table from him, frowning softly with his hands carefully clasped around his own mug, looking at him in a way that only parents who raised teenagers could, “So.” He starts slowly, after hearing the whole sordid story, and the things that Nightmare had said, “What I’m gathering from this, is that you need to apologize.”

Nightmare wants to hit his head on the table, “Correct.” He says quietly, and from next to him Red snerks. He’s absolutely delighted, the fucker.

Lilith has tagged along too, most likely just to watch him squirm. She’s still in her work out clothes and a mug of her own tea is warm in her hands, since it seems that tea is what you had when you were upset. She’s settled herself between Red and Sans, with Sans next to his father.

She sighs deeply, an amused smirk curling at her mouth, “Well that explains why you went hunting on your own.” She gives him an amused grin, “Didn’t turn out well for you, did it Nights?”

Nightmare sighs, and levels her a glare, licking at a sharp tooth as he flips her the bird.

Lilith makes a show of gasping and pretending to catch it, stuffing it in her pocket, “Thanks Nights. I’ll cherish it forever.” She deadpans despite the grin that’s curled around her mouth. The fact she can tease him is a testament to the bonds that have formed thanks to the Den magic, and he doesn’t want to murder her.

Gaster sighs like the tired parent he is and rubs at his temples. Beside him, Sans shakes his head, his mouth pulled into a flat line to hide his grin, “I can’t believe you said that to Sin though.” Any hint of amusement is gone from his face, “That was pretty shit.”

Nightmare finally lets his head hit the table and he gives in as his soul swells with grief, “Yes. I’m well aware, thank you Sans.” He muttered miserably into the wood.

Beside him Red snorts, “Boss. I can’t believe you said that, to that man’s face, and _Sloan_ didn’t have your ass in a vice.”

Nightmare groans at the delight in his tone, the sheer amusement and fuck, maybe he should strangle Red and be done with it. Edge will forgive him, with enough time.

“Oh she did.” Lilith tells them, brightly next to him, “It’s why he went hunting on his own.”

Red snickers next to him, and as soon as he can summon a tentacle he’s going to strangle him.

Gaster sighs again, reaching across the table to pat his wrist sympathetically, “You should apologize.” He told Nightmare gently.

Nightmare sighed, “I did.” His miserable voice is muffled into the table, “And I wrote a letter.” He admits, “I just need to _give_ it to them.”

There’s a long pause, before Red’s rough laughter rumbles next to him, “Oh fuck Nightmare.” He chuckles, “What the fuck happened to you? You are _Nightmare_. The deity of negativity, the blight of the multiverse, and here you are acting like a little bitch.” Nightmare slowly lifts his head to level a glare at Red’s bright grin.

“I am going to throttle you the moment I have the power to do it.” Nightmare dead pans, earning a brighter grin from Red.

“See Nights, there ya go.” Red tells him brightly, lightly punching his shoulder, “That’s the spirit.”

Lilith lightly swats at Red’s shoulder, drawing that grin as she gives him a fond look, “Be nice.” She scolds playfully, and when Nightmare glances to Sans, he’s looking at Red just as fondly.

Red shrugs, all sharp toothed and a sharky smile, “I am being nice.”

Nice for Red, but utterly unhelpful.

“Nightmare.” Gaster says his name painfully soft, drawing his azure eye up to the kind face that smiles patiently at him, and Nightmare relaxes, “May I offer a suggestion?”

Snorting, Nightmare nods, “Please.” He gestures to Lilith, Red and Sans, “The three stooges haven’t’ been helpful.”

“How do you even know what a stooge is?” Sans asked innocently, grin bright as he drops his chin onto his fist.

Gaster sighs gently, patiently before Nightmare can say anything, interrupting as his mouth opens to snap back, “Nightmare. If I may?” he gives an amused look to Sans, “Leave the letters on her bed. Someplace she will find them easily, but others will not, with a gift.”

That makes Nightmare’s brow furrow, “A gift?” he asks slowly.

Nodding, Gaster offers a grin, “Yes, a gift. You are trying to make them feel special, yes?” Nightmare hesitates, before he nods, “Right. Then think, what would make Sloan and Sin feel special? Something that will let them know you have been thinking of them.”

Red’s snort was ignored as Nightmare thought hard, “Well.” He pauses, thinks back to when he was laying in bed, all soft and warm, happy, with his mates, “Sin likes Crème brûlée.” He offered hesitantly.

Gaster frowns, “That.” He starts slowly, “Could prove difficult to find in short order.”

Nightmare frowns, “Sloan likes French Macaroons.” He offers out slowly, and that makes Gaster smile.

“Ah, a good bakery would have those fresh.” Gaster nods, and something like hope flickers in Nightmare’s soul.

“I know a place.” Sans says brightly, perking up with a smirk, “They’ve got the best coffee too.” He grins brightly with a toothy smile, “I know a short cut.”

Nightmare isn’t surprised, but he isn’t stupid enough to turn down help when he fucking _asked_ for it.

-

Stepping back, Nightmare pulls the door to Sloan’s room closed, the two letters with Sin and Sloan’s name in his neat, curly writing, were settled on her bed. A box of the macaroons nestled between the letters, each letter leaning against the pretty pink container.

The deed has been done, and it’s taking everything in him not to storm back into the room and take the letters back. Just hide them away for ever so no one would ever see them, and ensure they never see the light of day again.

“Did you do it?” he startles at Lilith’s voice, and when he turns to glower up at her, she’s leaning against the wall with her shoulder, arms crossed under her chest. Sans is by her side, his skull pressed into her arm to cuddle in, looking just as amused.

Red is by Sans’s side, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms.

Nightmare sighs and yep. He should have ditched them as soon as he could have, “What are you doing here?”

They all shrug, and Lilith grins, “We’re invested now. Need to see what happens.”

He rolls his eye light, and he’s about to tell the lot of them to fuck off when he hears light footsteps coming up the stairs, and panic floods him. With a hiss, he shoves them backwards, lunging for the nearest door, shoving Sans and Lilith through the threshold with surprising strength that was born of adrenaline-fueled panic. With a chuckle Red follows along at a sedated pace, before Nightmare dragged him inside the room.

He slammed the door shut and pressed his hands flat against the wood, taking a deep, calming breath.

Lilith frowned at the back of his head, “What was that all about?”

“Shhh!” Nightmare hisses, presses his skull to the door, listening to Sloan’s soft bell laugh and Sin’s deeper one, and a sense of anticipation, of dread, runs through him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Felix askes from his bed, slowly untangling himself from Wine, waking from their nap to rub sleep from his eyes.

Sans looks back at them with a delighted grin, “Oh, Nights wrote Sin and Sloan a sexy letter.” He turns to glower at Sans, “And now he’s panicking because he’s left it on Sloan’s bed.”

Nightmare’s soul feels like it’s being fucking boiled alive, and he would throttle Sans right along side Red if _Lilith_ wouldn’t be so offended.

Felix blinks at him as Wine pushes himself up to look sleepily at them.

“Right.” Felix starts, rubbing at his eyes, “You left your letter on her bed?”

Nightmare is sure he’s going to die, “Yes.” He ground out from between his clenched teeth.

“Hmm.” Felix pushes himself up and wanders over to stand with his sister, looking down at him with a grin, “What did you do to make it special?”

He presses his skull to the door, trying to listen to Sloan and Sin as the door to her room closes, “I bought them Macaroons.”

Snorting, Felix grins as he cocks his hip and props his hand on it, “Right. That’s fucking lame.”

Nightmare hisses at him, his head snapping around so quickly that he thinks he hears his neck cracking, “And what would you have done?” he snaps.

Wine slowly makes his way to the group, frowning up at Felix, brow furrowed as Felix snorted, “Me? I’m the master of fucking romance.” He rocks on his toes with a grin, “I would have bought at least a grand worth of roses. Picked the petals off each and everyone, to make a trail up from the front door to my bed. _Then_ , because I’m a fucking champ, would have dimmed the lights, candles everywhere, the nice smelling ones too. Rose petals on the bed, and I would be wearing nothing but a bow.”

They all stare at him, blinking slowly, before Lilith tells Nightmare with confidence, “You went to the wrong battle mage Nights. Go to Felix next time.”

Felix nods, still bouncing on his toes, grinning down at Wine’s awed expression, beaming at the soft heart in his eye light, “Yep. Mistakes were made.” He then looks to the knot of them, still grinning, “Now, get out of my room. I’m busy.”

Nightmare hisses up at him, makes a mental note to throttle Felix later too, and promptly ignores him and his demand to get out. He presses the side of his skull against the door, socket squinting as he tried to listen for Sloan and Sin’s voices.

“No, seriously. Get out.” Felix whines, earning a snort from his sister.

“Hang on, I want to see what happens.” Lilith tells him, and Nightmare isn’t sure he’s ever heard her monotone voice so full of amusement before.

“Dude.” Felix dead pans as Nightmare struggles to hear, “Sloan isn’t gonna do shit in the hall. Nights doesn’t like PDA, she’s going to drag him into their room and do loud shit to him.” That earns him some looks, and Nightmare feels heat crawl through his bones at that one.

Embarrassment isn’t a good feeling, and it’s one he’s not rather fond of.

“What?” Felix doesn’t sound bashful or embarrassed himself, but annoyed if anything, “I had to get Sloan to put silencing spells on her room just to sleep.”

Nightmare can practically see him shaking his head at his sister’s expression, “Would you two stop bickering!” he snaps at them, “I’m trying to listen!”

He rolls his eye light when he hears _snickering_ behind him. Brats, the lot of them, didn’t even bother to hide their throaty chuckles, clearly enjoying watching him sweat.

He’s about to tell them off again, the crude words on the tip of his summoned tongue when the door to Sloan’s room opens and he loses his voice. The room goes silent with nervous energy, like they’re all teenagers with a secret and it dawns on him, no one here has had a normal childhood. That this is probably the closest any of them come to _exactly_ that.

Nightmare doesn’t have time to ponder the thought, find the amusement and softness in that, when Felix sighs. They hear steps leading down to Nightmare’s room, “Oh for the love of Fates.” Felix grumbles, rolling his eyes, breaking the Nancy Drew feeling as he stalks up to the door.

Nightmare feels himself freeze as Felix goes for the brass knob, pulling it open as he fisted his hand into the back of Nightmare’s coat and leaned out into the hallway. He grins over Nightmare and lets out a sharp whistle that draw Sin’s attention, Oi! Hey Sin?”

His assassin half turns, sockets wide and his eye lights a soft gold when Felix shoves Nightmare out into the hall like the fucking traitor he was, “You looking for this?” he asks mildly, and Nightmare can remember a time a betrayal like this would have meant death.

Yet, Nightmare wasn’t like that anymore, and he was…maybe better?

A step in the right direction at least, even when he freezes like a deer in headlights when Sin’s gentle expression goes impossibly soft at him, and briefly, his eye lights are soft hearts.

“Was, thanks Felix.” Sin tells him smoothly, his mouth pulled into a crooked grin that makes Nightmare’s soul throb in his chest.

Felix hums, and when Nightmare turns to tell him off, to tell Lilith off too for good measure, Felix is already closing his door with an amused, knowing smirk and Lilith is long gone. Spirited away with a well-timed short cut, leaving him to his fate.

Nightmare sighs, forces himself to look up at his mate’s expression despite how it makes him _feel,_ and how the darkness in his soul recoils at it a little, “Look, Sin. I-“ he’s cut off and Sin doesn’t answer him as he simply takes him by the elbow.

His grip is firm but gentle, something Nightmare could have broken out of even now, but he allows himself to be ushered along. He swallows hard as he’s drawn back into Sloan’s room, and oddly feels like a man being led to his gallows. It’s stupid, he knows, he had shared far more with Sin and Sloan then anyone else before, but he had been so honest in those letters. Once he started it was near impossible to stop, and he had poured himself into each carefully chosen word.

He told them everything, how hard this was for him, how feelings were confusing and hurt. How he couldn’t get the words out to tell them how much he loved them, would do anything for them, would burn down the multiverse for them.

He told them how much that scared the shit out of him.

He swallows as Sin leads him into Sloan’s room and doesn’t let go until the door at his back clicks gently shut. Taking a breath, he looks up to Sloan, who’s sitting at the edge of her bed, his letter to her carefully gripped in her delicate hand and the other has her fingers pressed into her slightly parted lips.

He squirms when he sees the unshed tears in her eyes, and his instinct is too scrunch down in shame. He’s made her cry, and that was a bad thing. Right?

He holds strong, spine straight and awaits his judgement when Sloan slowly stands, pausing only to smooth her letter carefully out on the nightstand by her bed before she made her way to him.

He’s not entirely sure what to expect, maybe for her to scold him, to tell him he was dumb, but he’s not expecting her to drop to his height and wrap her arms around him tightly. He’s pulled flush to her chest as her arms fold around him and Sloan buries her face into the crook of his shoulder with a gentle sigh. 

He’s stiff as a board, still and uncertain, but he melts slowly into her arms, bringing his own around her lower ribs carefully. Guilt eats at him, he honestly hadn’t meant to make her sad.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered into her shoulder, his voice small and muffled by her glossy hair.

She pulls away, and her soul wobbles in confusion that makes him frown, “Why are you sorry?”

Sin drops next to them as well, frowning in confusion, head tilting towards him and Nightmare hesitates, “I. Made you cry?”

Sloan blinks at him twice before the words seem to penetrate, and she gives him a bit of a sad look as she cups his cheek, “Oh, my Moon.” She whispers, “People cry for lots of reasons.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” He tells her quietly, leaning into her hands, drawing a smile.

“It’s fine.” She tells him, and part of him doubts it even as Sin quietly crowds in on his side, “It doesn’t need to makes sense, but you didn’t make me sad.”

“I don’t understand.” He mutters, socket going half lidded as he leaned into Sloan.

She gives him a patient smile, and her soul pulses with joy that makes him shiver, “I’ll show you.” She kisses him again, deeper and softer this time, only breaking it so her lips brush over his teeth, “I love you too.” She smiles against his mouth, and he melts against her, feels some of his anxiety rush out of him, making his legs feel like jelly, “I love my letter, thank you.”

He doesn’t say your welcome, but only because he doesn’t get the chance before Sloan guides him to Sin for another deep, searing kiss.

He can’t say he loves them, not yet and not aloud. There’s too much fear and anxiety associated with those words. They won’t come out of his throat, they get wedged and stuck, and he can’t say them.

He found a way to tell them, his own way, and fuck anyone who thought that wasn’t enough.

As they guide him to the floor, slow and gentle, mouths on his body with sweet kisses, Nightmare knows its enough. That he’s enough. He shivers at their soft praises, moans into kisses that go from innocent to smoldering, and arches into their clever hands.

They’re slow and loving. Thorough in a way that no one before them had been, and when he comes undone, he doesn’t worry about anything and he knows he’s good enough. He’s won their loyalty, their respect, and their kindness.

He knows he’s loved, and that was more then he ever dared hope for.


	37. School Yard Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix gets a call from the school. No one is happy about this arrangement, and no one expects the outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Its a new posting day, and a new chapter! And its a Felix centric chapter to boot! I really like how this one turned out, since we don't always get to see the slice of life stuff with Felix and he really does need some fluff. 
> 
> This is the second last slice of life chapters before we get back into the main plot line, and thus, angst and hurts. So, soak up the fluff! 
> 
> I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who commented and participated in the raffle. The two winners were chosen with a random number generator and have been contacted. Over the next few weeks the stories from their prompts will be written and going live, and I expect they will be outside the main story line. So watch out for the additional stories that will be coming up. 
> 
> I'm curious if people are interested in more raffles like the one I just held, so if you are you can pop over to my twitter account at @Acidflames, where I have just re-tweeted the poll to see if people want more of that. You can also let me know what you think in the comments :3 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone for all your continued support and enjoyment of this story. <3 
> 
> WARNINGS: minor discussion of murder, war and genocide. Minor discussion of causing bodily harm and threating. (Felix is gonna Felix)

A day to himself was not something Felix was used to. It just wasn’t done, there was always something to do, someone who needed help, and someone to take care of.

Sometimes it was Frisk, or the older mages or the people of their territory who needed him. Sometimes the Coven needed his assistance, and more recently his hell hounds. Even before the Crew landed in their laps, Felix had kept himself _busy_. Idol hands and all that.

Once the Crew came along, and decided to stay, much to the mage’s great relief, Felix was even busier. One of them were usually in need of help or care in one way or another. A little TLC, and in Wine’s case, a boat load of affection, and it was something that Felix had no qualms about providing. He had energy in spades, and if they needed someone to blow off steam with, or spar or whatever, Felix was all for it.

Days off were far and few between, just like Felix liked it.

Yet, he certainly didn’t complain when one happened across his lap.

Stretching out on the couch, he boots up his Switch and settles in to play some Pokemon for the day, like a teenager with no responsibility. His long legs are up and resting on Maggie as she sleeps at the other end of the couch, while Molly, Mariah and Mable all spread out and flopped lazily to the floor.

His girls had all been fed, had gone out, and seemed just as determined to have a lazy day right along with him.

Everyone else was out of the house, doing _something._ Lilith had taken Sans, Red and Edge with her to check out some disturbance back out at the farms, and Felix _hoped_ it was the Yule cats again. The story from the first time they encountered them was still comedy gold and Felix still laughed about the whole thing.

Sin was at his therapy session with Dr. Tracy, Sloan taking him of course but Nightmare had tagged along. His guise of wanting to be there for Sin was a weak one, and even the assassin had seen through the bull shit. Nightmare was at least checking it out, and that was promising.

Lola was at the hospital today with Undyne and surprisingly Glass. They were visiting the children’s ward today, healing the little kiddos of ailments and illness, like the champions they where.

Alphys was doing something with Mettaton, doing some fun things or something. Ryder and Paps were out on a date, actually driving two towns over to get some peace and fucking quiet. Felix was sure that Sans only tolerated his brother being gone so far was because Ryder was with him, and his bro may not be able to do the whole war thing any more, but it wouldn’t take much to revive that viciousness if Papyrus was in danger.

Ripper, Gore and Crow were up in their rooms, and when Felix had checked on them, they were playing some kind of card game, quiet and relaxed. He hadn’t seen the need to interrupt and sometimes they needed their own bonding time too.

Sugar was in his own room, excitedly reading a book on baking that Lola had gotten him, his shiny new glasses making it easier on him and didn’t give him headaches. He was busily picking which recipes he wanted to try, and he had plans to spend tomorrow afternoon with Lola to try them.

His own baby had gone out for a hike with his brother, and again, Felix understood the need for brotherly bonding. Wine and Coffee were out on one of the easier trails having some bro time, and Coffee had been so excited to do some sketching of the fauna they found.

Again, Felix wasn’t going to interrupt their time together, and left them too it.

Gaster was in his room, drawing up plans for what he wanted as a sort of lab on the property. He had approached them, all nervous and shit, with his want to continue some research on things that Felix had no idea what they were. Something to do with determination and if that might be a way to bring Chara into this world so they could deal with the issue once and for all.

Felix liked the idea, and the others had agreed a real lab would be beneficial. They had the space and asked him to plan out what a little building would look like and gave him a corner of the back yard to work with. Once he had the plans drawn up, they’d higher contractors to begin the build, and probably bring on the same ones who where repairing and extending the living room. 

The girls were in school, Mercy and Hope joining Frisk’s class. Sure, it was the end of the year, and only a few weeks left but they had wanted to go so badly. It would be good for their socialization, or so Sloan had said, and Felix hadn’t argued. He had grown up in a fucked-up time, with fucked up people, so what did he know about what kids needed?

So, they had started nearly two weeks ago, after the Crew had decided to stay and they all seemed to have settled into their new lives and routine readily enough.

The girls seemed to like school too, made friends easily with Frisk’s help and the hoard of children that seemed to hang around the compound only got bigger. It was good, nice to see, after Frisk had such a hard start when she first came to live with them.

All in all, things were going good. Great in fact, and Felix didn’t want to jinx it by drawing too much attention to the fact they were all happy. No need for Fate to squint down on them too hard.

Settling in to enjoy his relaxing morning, Felix opens his game and grins at his awesome team of ‘mon’s he’s built up. It’s time to take out the last gym leader before he heads to the elite four and fucks them all up too.

He settles in for a battle, when the land line suddenly rings. It gives Felix pause, and for a long moment he considers letting it go to voice mail. They only _had_ a land line in case of emergencies and hardly anyone called it, not when everyone had cell phones.

He really does think of letting it go to voice mail, but again, emergencies, and with a great sigh he saves his game and heaves himself up to his feet. Shuffling to the kitchen in his boxers and a loose tank top, he picks up and answers with a dower, “Yo?”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, and Felix is about to hang up when he thinks this is a crank call, when a hesitant voice finally speaks on the other end of the phone, “Is this the uh. Pandora residence?”

Felix feels his brow rise and he leans a shoulder into the wall, “It is.” There’s a weary tension in his voice, and Felix feels something tighten in through his shoulders.

“Ah, excellent.” The woman on the other end sighs, “I apologize for calling this number. I had tried Sloan’s cell phone, but it went directly to voice mail.”

“Yeah, she’s busy.” Felix informs her hotly, annoyance starting to grow at this woman’s lack of introduction.

“Of course.” The woman said on the other end of the line, and Felix feels something rankle when its almost patronizing, “I’m Mrs. Deliway.” Why did that name sound so familiar, “I’m the principal here at Ebott elementary.”

Ah, that was why. Typically, Sloan dealt with the school. Felix didn’t have the patience for it and after an _incident_ with another parent when Frisk first came to live with them, Lilith didn’t either.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you Mr?” she leaves the question open for him to respond to, and Felix sighs inwardly.

“Felix. Just call me Felix.”

“Of course. Felix.” His name sounds clunky coming from her, “Well, again. I’m sorry to disturb you. I was trying to get in touch with Sloan, as we have had an incident this morning and I need to speak with her.”

Felix feels something cold wined through him, and panic sets in, “Is everything okay? Is anyone hurt?”

Deliway laughs nervously, “No, no. Nothing like that.” Felix sighs, and he’s going to hazard a guess that it was feisty little Mercy with her Underfell attitude that had gotten herself into trouble, “We had an incident with Hope today.”

Something new and heavy drops into his stomach like a led weight, something that feels like dread, “Hope?”

“Yes.” She confirms again, her tone taking a serious note, “There was an altercation with another child. And we really need a guardian to come down and speak with us about the situation.”

Something new and hot flushes through Felix then, and when he squeezes the phone in his hand it creeks. Something happened with….his kid? Something protective and angry flashes through him and he shoves it down hard, “I’m Hope’s guardian.” He tells her in a rush, laying claim to Wine’s kid.

Mrs. Deliway pauses, “Oh? Oh! Wonderful. We only had Sloan’s name on file.”

“Yeah, she usually deals with the school.” Felix tells her lamely, “But Hope’s my kid.” He claims again, a little more insistent this time.

“Wonderful! Would you be able to attend the meeting then? We really do need to discuss the situation, and in person would be best.” Felix feels something unsettle in his stomach at that, like Hope’s in danger.

“Is Hope in trouble?” he asks slowly, eyes narrowing on the wall he’s facing as instinct prickles beneath his skin. It demands he do something, that his kid is in need of his help and he better get his shit together.

Mrs. Deliway pauses again, “Well. Yes.” And Felix feels something protective stir, something parental that bubble in annoyance. Hope was the peaceful one, more of a pacifist then even Frisk and had walked through Swapfell without hurting anyone. She had won over Wine and Coffee through her sheer determined sweetness, and they adored her enough to betray their Empress. A task of no easy feat, as they had been loyal to their Toriel up until the moment she tried to murder Hope.

Felix didn’t believe she would be the one in the wrong here.

“Would you be able to come in? We have the boy’s parents coming in as well.” She sounds hopeful, and Felix feels that protectiveness boil under his skin, like his kid has enemies coming in from all sides.

And _he_ was being called in as her back up, “Yeah, I can be there in about twenty minutes.” He told her and hung up, not giving her the chance to say goodbye.

He’s quick to put his game on the charger and went to get changed. All the while, his soul was unsettled and annoyed like something was wrong. It wasn’t how he felt just before a battle or a fight, but something kin to that.

He took a breath and reminded himself, he needed to use his words here. He wouldn’t be able to punch his way out of this, and if he did, well, Sloan would have to deal with the fall out and that wouldn’t be fair.

Taking another breath, he steadies himself and quickly gets dressed.

-

Felix didn’t like the school, that much he knew. Not the idea of school, he knew that education, _knowledge_ was important. He supported learning, the passing of knowledge onto younger humans, but fuck if the physical school made him uncomfortable.

Sure, he got the reason on a fundamental level, that everything had to be made smaller for the kids. It only made _sense_ that the rooms, the lockers, the desk and whatever else, be made for someone the size of children in mind, but it was still fucking weird.

He side steps a group of first graders, grinning lightly at their bright smiles and he can’t get over how fucking tiny they are. They had missed Frisk’s super tiny ages, she had been seven when Lilith had won guardianship over her sister and Felix hadn’t seen Frist this small.

Worse then the super teeny kids, where the teachers. Felix knew what he looked like, knew he looked like he was very much out of his element here in his biker leathers; his slacks are heavy with thick protective padding that he didn’t necessarily need. 

He was a battle mage sure, had the healing trait, but he needed to set a good example, right? Set a base line for other bikers.

He knows he looks _cool_ with his black leather coat with a hood, its heavy and hot, the coat was bulky, and the zipper was open. His black work out tank is stuck to his flat, muscular stomach and chest, and his heavy boots thunk hollowly into the linoleum floor.

He knows he looks good, fucking _struts_ like he looks good, and erns every leer and glare the teachers give him. He smirks back, licks his teeth at them as he meanders his way to the principal’s office, all elegant grace, and control.

He had left two helmets out with his bike, just in case. He isn’t sure what he’s going to find here, but his instincts had been unsettled enough for him to pack Frisk’s helmet.

He rounds a corner, coming to the Principal’s office and it’s neatly painted blue door and crisp lettering, and even the office seems small when he lets himself in.

The office is neat, tidy in a way that puts him on edge, like the surgical ward they had kept Nights in or the one the lab found Alphys in the underground.

Shoving down his discomfort, Felix looks around the tight room, grinning at the receptionist with his most charming smile, “Hey.” He says gently, plastering on his best smile, grinning brightly at her despite how his instincts rattled angrily, “I’m here to see Mrs. Deliway.”

He puts on the charm thick, earning a shy grin from the older woman with her tightly curled hair, and she smiles up at him as he leaned into the edge of her desk. His eyes flash around the room, and he almost frowns when he sees Hope behind her.

Her little eyes are red and full of tears, her cheeks are raw from crying, and her lower lip quivers. Her hands are in her lap, clutching at one like it hurts, and something crushes in Felix’s chest. She’s caved in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible, like she was trying to be a smaller target, and Felix can see her barely holding back her tears.

He stops himself from moving towards her, the aborted move barely noticeable, and he feels the sparkle of true anger that someone would dare make Hope cry. He holds back his anger, barely, to smile at the receptionist. She chuckles, and waves him through, “Of course dear.” And she waves him on, nodding towards Hope and her tearful little face.

Felix flashes her a bright smile, burying his anger when he sees that no one is checking in on Hope, and he forces himself not to bolt towards the kid. He walks normally, like he’s at ease, leaning into the training he had received when he was younger to cope in uncomfortable situations, and he’s grateful for the training that was shoved down his throat. He’s a pro when it comes to pretending he’s fine, and he’s not about to allow the demon out and destroy whatever made his kid fucking cry.

Hope looks up when he nears, her little face crumpling and tears overflow her eyes, and her lower lip trembles, “Felix.” She sobs his name heavily, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t be mad.” She begs, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Confusion swells in Felix, and he softens towards the kid, “Hope, why would I be mad? Kid, its okay, you don’t need to cry.”

She hiccups, clasping her hand and he frowns when she cringes away from him when he tries to wipe away her tears. Felix pauses and pulls away, “Hope, what’s wrong. What happened?” he glances down at her hand, and carefully picks it up.

There’s a dark bruise around her thumb and her knuckles are purple, like she hit something. Felix frowns, “Hope, what happened?” his voice takes on a harder edge, and Hope cringes back from him. Felix quickly softens and offers her a grin, “Kiddo?”

Hope’s watery eyes lift to his gentle face, her expression twisted in misery, and she opens her mouth to tell him what’s wrong, when the door next to the seat opens and she startles. Hope jerks in surprise like a frightened rabbit, her teeth snapping shut and she shrinks down on herself again.

That protective thing claws at Felix’s soul again, and something violent bubbles inside. He shoves the feeling down as he pushes himself up to come face to face with Mrs. Deliway; she’s a tall, thin woman and older then Felix thought she sounded, and he bites back a smile when he thinks she looks like the crypt keeper.

“Mr. Uh. Felix?” she said crisply, with a grin, “Thank you for coming.” She glances to Hope, who scrunches down under the suddenly cold gaze that makes Felix frown. “Would you please come in? We have some things to discuss.”

“Sure.” He tells her slowly, and Hope swallows a little sob when she pushes herself up, standing trembling next to Felix. Instantly, he takes her shoulder and carefully pushes her behind him. He feels as if she were about to be attacked or he was leading her into danger and he was preparing to take the hit for her, despite it only being a principal’s office.

He leads her inside, gripping her shoulder as Mrs. Deliway ushered them in, and Felix frowns when he sees another couple sitting prim and proper next to their son. The kid had a bloody nose, a tissue was pressed to his face and he glared as Hope slunk inside, hiding behind Felix as much as she could.

Mrs. Deliway slips around her desk, and Felix ushers Hope into an empty chair, and he sinks into the empty one between Hope and the parents. He glances over to them, feeling very much out of place here, uncomfortable, but he recognizes the father right away, “Hey, your mayor Miller.” He tells him slowly, earning a frown from the man next to him.

Beside him, Mrs. Miller is sitting up straight and annoyed, her delicate hand on her son’s shoulder as she looks at Felix with distain, as if he were somehow less than. Frowning, Felix shifts his chair closer to Hope, feeling all sorts of bad vibes and shitty intent, and everything in him screams to keep Hope safe. Everything in him is screaming this is a threat, and he’s been led into a trap.

“Yes.” Mr. Miller says coldly, stiffly, and Felix sits up taller, gold magic suddenly burning in his eyes at the implied threat.

“Right.” Felix says slowly, reaching out to grasp Hope’s shoulder, keeping her close, just in case.

“Now.” Mrs. Deliway said once they were all settled, drawing Felix’s gold eyes back to her with a frown, “We have a lot to discuss.” She glances to Felix, her frown deep and dower when she looks to Hope, its with utter disappointment, “There was an incident this morning, and we need to discuss Hope’s punishment.”

Felix frowns, and he straightens up even more, coming to attention, like he would have when he was receiving orders in the war, “What? What punishment?”

Hope hiccups softly, and she reaches for his hand to cling to as Mrs. Deliway continues, “Yes. Earlier today Hope punched Jessie and made his nose bleed.”

Felix feels his soul constrict, like someone has stabbed him through the guts, it’s a feeling he’s intimate with, as unpleasant as it was, and a cold calm washed over him. What would have driven his kid to strike another like that? His kid was a pacifist, she wouldn’t have hit anyone.

“Now, Hope will be suspended for three days.” Mrs. Deliway goes on to explain, earning a smug look from the Millers, and Felix tilts his head. “But we need reassurance that this won’t occur again.” 

Mrs. Miller sniffs, and somehow makes the noise sound self important as she shakes herself out, “Yes, that little,” She gives Hope a dark look that makes her cringe inward, “girl best keep her hands off my son.” There’s a threat there, barely concealed under the words, and it makes the demon inside coil tightly in Felix’s chest.

Mrs. Deliway is nodding in agreement, looking grim and sad, and completely taking their side.

Felix frowns as he glances to Hope; she’s small and quiet, with tears in her eyes as she stares defeated at the floor, and he realizes then and there, that no one here has her back. Not one person in this room asked if she was okay. Enemies on all sides, and what’s worse, she’s expecting him to side with _them_. That makes something pang in his soul, something hurtful in that she was expecting to be left alone and betrayed.

He narrows his eyes at the Principal, his voice going cold, “Why?” he asks suddenly with a vicious tone that had them all stilling.

“Pardon? Why what?” Mrs. Deliway asked, her brow furrowing.

“Why did Hope hit him?” Felix asked firmly, eyes narrowed and his mouth pulling into a flat line, the question blunt.

“What does that matter?” Mrs. Deliway asked, her brow furrowed, “She hit him, and our school has a zero-tolerance policy. We do not tolerate violence. Hope struck Jessie, and she needs to understand that it is not appropriate.” She tells him firmly, verging towards angry.

Felix frowns, and he narrows his eyes, “Hope is a pacifist. She doesn’t believe in violence, and she inherently dislikes it. So, what happened to make her break her own belief system and punch the shit outta baby Gap over there. What the hell happened?”

“Felix.” Mrs. Deliway sighed as the Millers make choked noises of outrage, eyes narrowed at him, “This is not-“

Felix rolls is eyes, “You’re a fucking idiot.” He hisses back at her, interrupting as the first spark of his true anger starts to show. Turning to Hope with an annoyed huff, he gentled when he looked at her, “Hope, what happened?”

She blinked up at him, her cheeks raw and red, her breathing hitching from crying so hard. She looks up at him in surprise, like she’s shocked that he even asked her. Like no one had asked her something like that before.

Her little lip trembles when she looks down and away from him, like she was ashamed, “I hit him.” She admitted quietly, and afraid.

Felix nodded placidly, its information they had agreed upon, “Yup. You sure did kiddo.” He glanced down to her hand, “And you bruised the shit outta your hand. But why’d you hit him?”

Hope looked up, her shiny green eyes wet with tears and she quickly looks down. Felix frowns when her lip quivers, and he squeezes her shoulder and gives her a reassuring grin, “Hope? It’s okay, tell me what happened.”

Mrs. Deliway makes a distressed noise, but Felix ignores her and waits for Hope to talk.

When she starts, her voice is small and thick, and she knotted her fingers together with discomfort and _fear,_ “Well.” She hesitates, and glances up at Felix with wide, glossy eyes, “Jessie’s been picking on the kids in class.” She starts, flinching when Mrs. Miller snorts.

Hope curled down further, hiding behind Felix’s bulk, her only shield in the room. He gives her a gentle smile, “Hope? Don’t listen to that bitch.” The room hisses, Mrs. Miller gasping at his audacity and he grins, ignoring her as he gently asks again, “What happened?”

Hope’s hands gripped harder at each other, and she won’t look at him, “Jessie was being mean to the fairy tale and monster kids. He was saying such cruel things. He made fun of Monster Kid for not having arms. A-and the werewolf kid because he’s hairy. And he made fun of Fuko because her moms dead and her dads a bar tender.”

Felix licked his teeth, swallowing the snarl, and gives the kid an encouraging smile. “We tried to tell the teacher.” She continued quietly, “But she said that its just boys being boys, and that words don’t hurt. She told us to ignore him, even though Jessie made other kids cry.”

Felix grits his teeth but kept his smile soft and in place, and doesn’t let her see his flash of irritation as the heat of his anger grows in his chest, “Why’d you hit him?”

Hope takes a breath, calming herself down and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, “Jessie said he was going to throw water at Fuko. So, I tried to tell the teacher, but she wouldn’t listen to me. So. So I saw Jessie with a glass of water when we were in art class, and Fuko had her back to him. And he was smirking and heading for Fuko.”

Felix felt hurt wash over his soul, uncertainty filling him when he realized she must have felt so alone in her classroom, and she still wouldn’t look up at him. “So, I got between them, and told Jessie to stop. He wouldn’t, so I pushed him. I knocked the water from his hand, and then he pushed me back. So. So I punched him.”

Felix blinked at her, his grin slow to grow and he gently lifted her chin, “Hey. It’s okay Hope.” In front of him Mrs. Deliway scoffed, and Felix can practically see her grinding her teeth, “You did nothing wrong.” Mr. Miller finally says something, making a choked noise beside them, “You did a good thing, sticking up for your friends. Especially Fuko.”

Hope nods, and fresh tears fill her eyes. “And I’m super proud of you.” He tells her firmly, leaving no room for argument.

She looks up, eyes wide as tears slip down her face, “You are?”

Felix smirks, “’Course I am. You did what I would have done.” He gives her a crooked grin, “Now. Dry your tears, you fix your crown.” She almost smiles at that, “And remember who’s kid you are. You came from _Swapfell_ , and you don’t take shit from this asshole,” and he jerks his thumb towards Jessie, “here, okay?”

Hope nods slowly, her eye still filled with tears that make something protective and angry claw at Felix’s soul, “Okay Felix.”

“Okay kiddo. You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m going to deal with these assholes.”

She nods again, shrinking behind his bulker-then-hers frame, and Felix sits up nice and tall, his grin going sharp in his anger. Crossing a leg over his knee, Felix tents his fingers over his calf and narrows his eyes, leveling a glare at the adults in the room, “So let me get this straight.” He tells them coolly, and a sliver of tension twists through each of them, “This little shit is a _bully_ and you all did fuck all about it?”

“Mr. Felix.” Mrs. Deliway gasped out, anger etched into her expression, “Words do not hurt people. Hope struck another student, and that is far worse.”

Felix blinks at her, his smile growing sharper and when he laughs, its bitter and humorless, “Words don’t hurt people, do they? Tell me, Mrs. Deliway, are you even aware of history? As an educator, you can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Her insulted look was gratifying, and he kept going, not giving anyone a chance to interrupt, “Words have power. Power to make people think, power to make people hate. Words lead to war.” He gives her a bitter look, “It doesn’t start with blood shed and genocide. War starts with an idea that someone else is better then another, and they start with words.”

His eyes flash gold, and he lets his intent roll over them, making them shiver when they feel it, a reminder of what his LV was, “So don’t sit here and _lecture_ me on the power of words. I remember the war well.” His mouth twists into something threatening as his eyes flash a deeper gold, “After all, I could call you a dumb cunt, and it wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

She sputters, her hands fisting on her desk in anger, much to Felix’s delight and she gasps his name out with indignation. He glances to Hope’s gobsmacked expression and he gives her a wink that makes her giggle lowly.

He looks back to Mrs. Deliway, “So this is what’s gonna happen. You want to punish Hope for hitting a kid? _Fine_ , but let the record show that Hope _defended_ herself and her friends when the adults, who were supposed to be watching, did fuck all to stop this,” and he jerks a thumb over to Jessie, “little scum sucker from being a fucking bully.”

His grin grows cold, “And there are indeed consequences to your actions. I’ll let Sloan know what happened here, and the _incompetence_ of not only their teacher but you as well.” Her face clouds over in anger, “You can literally take your 1950’s attitude and shove it.” His smile goes pretty, “And since _we_ fund the school, and Sloan deals with the board, I would expect that an inspector is about to come look up your ass with a flashlight.”

That makes Mrs. Deliway pause, her face paled and her mouth slowly closed as Felix turned to the Millers, his grin impossibly sweet. “Aren’t you up for re-election next month?”

That startles him, makes him pause and Felix can see the gears turning and the politician in him realizing this was a miscalculation, “Well, yes.” He hesitates, “But I’m sure this little misunderstanding doesn’t need to be a matter for the people.”

Felix chuckles bitterly, “Misunderstanding.” He shakes his head and smooths a hand over his mohawk, “Bigotry is a learned behaviour not a personality trait. Your crotch goblin,” and his wife gasped at Felix’s words, and Mr. Millar put a hand on her thin shoulder to keep her from bursting out, “learned from _somewhere_ that its okay to bully people that are different from him.” He smiled bitterly, “And that leads me to wonder where? And since over sixty percent of Ebott are fairy tale folk, I think your voters have the right to know what utter bullshit your _child_ ,” he spits the word like an insult, “Has been saying. So, I would expect a _statement_ from us to be released on this matter.”

His face pales as well, much to Felix’s delight, “And I wouldn’t expect our backing on your re-election campaign.” The delight falls away and Felix’s grin goes feral sharp, “And on a personal note? If your little shit ever comes near my kid, or any of her little friends again with bad intent? I’m gonna take my pound of flesh from you.”

Mr. Miller’s mouth falls open in shock, eyes a little wide to be on the receiving end of a threat from _War_ , “What?”

“If your kid comes near mine again, I’m going to come to your house and without a lick of magic, I’m going to beat the shit out of you. I will break something.” Felix threatened with a cheery smile that made the room around them go still and cold, “And if you send your wife out to answer the door, I’ll bring one of my sisters, and they’ll beat the shit out of her. With out magic of course. Want a fair fight.”

His head tilts and his eyes flash with magic, “Don’t fuck with crazy. We don’t tend to like it much.” Then, as if nothing was amiss, Felix relaxed and let go of his magic, the demon inside cackling, “We done here?”

Mrs. Deliway sputters, and Felix grins when he knows he’s made his point, “Great.” He says brightly as he pushes himself up and offers a hand to Hope, “Come on kid, we’re blowing this popsicle stand. We’re going to get pizza and ice cream.”

With a grin and tears long dried, but her cheeks were still red raw, Hope hopped out of her chair and took Felix’s hand. In a small, shy voice, she turned to her Principal and quietly said, “Bye Mrs. Deliway, I’ll see you in a few days.”

Felix snorts, and leads her from the room, his hand wrapped protectively around hers as they head out through the office and out into the tiny halls and the tiny people.

He doesn’t let go of her hand, that protective, territorial thing is clawing at his soul until they’re outside and he can see his black motorcycle gleaming in the sun by the garden. He only let’s go of her hand with a deep sigh when they’re by his motorcycle. He easily lifts her up onto the edge of the raised garden, so she sits along the edge, her legs dangling over the stonework, and something angry is still clawing at his soul.

He takes a step back with a huff, and he struggles to calm himself and reaches into his inventory to pull out a smoke, pressing it between his teeth. He pauses again, the lighter almost to his mouth, and he looks at Hope and her scrunched, afraid position before he heaves another sigh.

Right. He’s not supposed to smoke around the girls, and he’s not going to. He puts the cigarette back and steps back forward, “Okay kid, lets see that hand.”

Miserably, Hope lifts her hand up to him, and its so tiny in Felix’s, as he carefully examines the bruising around her thumb, “You had your thumb on the inside of your fist.” He tells her with a frown, earning a silent nod from Hope.

Felix hums softly, and lets her hand go, plunking down beside her, “Well, you made his nose bleed, so good on you.” That gets Hope to look back up at him with wide eyed surprise, “But we have three days, so I’m going to teach you how to throw a punch. At least you can protect yourself without hurting yourself.”

Hope continues to stare at him with open surprise, making Felix shift uncomfortably and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. Even after all this time with his Den, he’s still not always great with social ques. “You’re really not mad?”

That startles Felix more then anything else that’s happened today, and he slowly shakes his head no, “No. Why would I be?”

Hope looks down, such a hesitant and shy kid, and Felix knows he would do anything to keep her safe, “Well.” She starts a little hesitantly, “My parents would’ve been mad. They would have sided with the teachers and told me to stop being a brat.”

That makes something press inwards in his soul, like someone was pressing in on a still-tender bruise. Something hurt that Felix can’t quite explain, hurt that shy little Hope’s own parents wouldn’t have had her back. That, when she saw him, she wasn’t expecting an ally.

Felix scoffs, “You’re parents sound like assholes too.” He tells her bitterly, earning a shy nod from Hope. It makes Felix sigh, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Listen, Hope.” She looks up at him, eyes glossy and bright, and Felix knows this is one of those important moments in life that he can’t fuck up. That the next words that come out of his mouth will impact Hope for the rest of her life.

So, like, no pressure.

“I know I’m not your parents, but I am your guardian.” It’s a proclamation that makes her eyes go wet, “And I will always have your back okay? I will love you, no matter what and I will always be here for you.”

It’s something that her parents should have fucking told her. “Just like Wine and Coffee.” He knows that to be just as true, and he takes another breath, “The world is a terrible, violent place that will chew you up and spit you out, and you’re going to face down more then just this bully. People will try to keep you down, hurt you and even kill you, just because they can. But you are not alone here. You have me. And you have Wine and Coffee, and the Crew and the Den. You have a support system that will bend over backwards to help you. We would topple empires to keep you safe.” They’d all done it for less, “We will teach you to stand tall in the face of dicks like that. Okay?”

He knows he should probably feed her some pretty lie about how everyone has a good side and she should ignore her bullies, but Felix won’t set her up for failure like that. The world isn’t rainbows and ducklings, it was a brutal, cold place that would do its best to break her.

But, she isn’t alone here.

More tears slip down her cheeks as she nods, “Okay.” She warbles and she wipes at her cheek with the back of her hand, “Thanks Felix.” She hesitates, pausing before she mutters, “Felix can I have a hug?”

Something in him stands down a bit and he offers her a grin, “Sure you can kid. C’me here.” He pulls her into a hard hug, wrapping his thick arms around her tiny frame, and feels her shutter out a watery sigh.

“You’re a better dad then mine was.” She whispers into his chest, and it makes him snort despite how his soul swells in sheer joy. Makes him realizes Hope had a terrible childhood, and this was the most normal she’s ever gotten. That makes something a little sad warble in his chest.

She lets out a shaky little breath, “I love you too Felix.”

It’s like a punch to the gut, but in a weirdly good way. Something like joy filled him, and sure, Wine was Hope’s guardian, the closest thing to a dad she had, but Felix was dating Wine. It made Hope _his_ kid by proxy, and the demon inside rumbled happily at that, and this little family within his family.

“Thanks Hope.” He told her, feeling hopeful and light spirited. He gives her a little laugh, “You ready for pizza and ice cream?”

Hope laughs, the last of her tears drying when she nods, “Yes!” and it’s the most normal thing anyone has done for Hope in as long as she can remember.

-

Hours later, heading into the night, Felix is leaning against the door jam of Hope’s room with a smirk. Mercy and Frisk had been beyond angry at Hope’s punishment, and after talking Mercy out of starting a riot and Frisk out of staging a walk out protest, they had agreed to let the mages handle it.

Instead Coffee, and let the Fates bless his soul, had convinced the girls to have a sleep over in Hope’s room instead.

All three are curled up tightly in Hope’s bed, Mercy and Frisk on either side of Hope, as Wine reads them a bedtime story. They might be a little old for stories, but sometimes it was childish things that helped sooth a battered heart, and Wine had no qualms about reading Fluffy Bunny to the girls.

It was sweet, and it helped settle something in Felix’s soul as well, cooled the anger that had been bubbling for the rest of the day. Anger he had kept well hidden from Hope when he took her out on his motorcycle for pizza and ice cream.

Everything else had fallen into place once the rest of the Den got home. Sloan had been furious and had connected with the board _immediately_ and there was already an inspector scheduled for tomorrow. Papyrus and Ryder, the closest thing they had to a HR and PR department, had reached out to Liam to release a statement.

It was absolutely _scathing_ ; Liam had been beyond furious as to what transpired, and it showed in his written statement that was released to the news outlets.

Felix was delighted by how everything played out, and alls well that ends well.

“Alright girls, good night.” Wine suddenly says, drawing Felix’s attention back to his mate and the girls. Sleepy good nights answer back to him as Wine closes his book, turns out their light and steps out of their room.

Wine grins up at him as they fall in step, heading for Felix’s room and when Wine reaches for his hand, Felix goes bright red in a scalding blush. Of all the kinky shit and raunchy sex he’s ever had, Wine holding his hand was still the sweetest, most intimate thing he’s ever done.

Wine gives him a gentle smile as they head for Felix’s bedroom, “Thank you Felix,” he looks up at Felix from under his brow, a coy grin pulling at his sharp teeth, “For being there for Hope today. It meant a lot to her.”

Felix nods, because yeah, it did, “’Course.” And he burns and feels like his soul is going to explode, “Well, she’s my kid too, right?” and Wine’s eye light flashes with interest, “I wasn’t gonna let anyone make her feel less then.”

Wine blinks up at him, and for the briefest of moments, his eye light blinks up at him as a little heart before Wine hesitantly asks, “Is this what you really want Felix?”

Felix pauses, hears the hesitant, _hopefulness,_ in his voice. It makes something melt in Felix, “Yeah. I do.” He tells Wine softly, hesitating before he asks, “Is this what you want?”

The heart is back, and Wine’s face goes red, “Yes.” But he was never stupid enough to be hopeful for it.

When Felix grins, its soft and lovely. All his earlier aggression and anger towards the school is gone, and something light fills his soul. It’s love, he thinks, real love, and when he kisses Wine, soft and slow in the hall, he hopes he understands just how much Felix loves him. Them, their little family within the family and he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

He wonders, if now would be a good time to talk about collars, but the thought is pushed from his mind when Wine’s tongue rolls over his own in a hot kiss, and he can only think about Wine.

Maybe tomorrow, for now, he’s going to lavish his mate in affection and make sure Wine knows how adored he truly is.


	38. A Moment of Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gore, Sugar and Crow get lost. Despite that, they make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> So depending on where you are in the world, this is either very early Saturday morning or super late Friday night, either way, new chapter! 
> 
> I really struggled with writers block with this chapter, but I was really excited to write this one. I really wanted to write something with Sugar, Crow and Gore, and I wanted them to have some fluff. 
> 
> This is the last of the slice of life chapters for a while, and thus, fluff. Next week's chapter is back to the main plot line as we move into the second arc of this story. (Bonding here we go!) Next week's chapter will be pretty heavy, and I will update the tags to reflect the direction that chapter will go in. 
> 
> So, soak in the happy and fluff for this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: discussion of illness that causes death, and this can be upsetting to people right now. This was in reference to comments that were made in the Ninety Fourth Time, where Lilith and Sans were talking about the surface.

The bus ride into downtown Ebott was a long one, but next to Gore, Sugar was vibrating with excitement. Its enough to sooth any nerves from even Crow as they venture out from the compound on their own for the first time, and enough to make even Gore feel a tingle of anticipation.

It had been a tough week, a stressful one, and even Gore’s addled brains could see the stress in everyone, what with all the nonsense with Hope and the school. He had a hard time picking up on emotions sometimes, but even Crow, who was far worse off then he, had been able to pick out _anger_ in Sloan.

So, yeah, maybe they could have picked a better time to do an outing on their own, but when Sugar had read about the summer market online, he had been beyond excited and wanted to go. It was only open for the rest of this week before it closed down for its monthly cleaning and it would move mostly outside for the rest of the summer.

At first everyone had been hesitant, Hope had just been suspended, Chara was still out there, and the mages were still layering magic into them to help keep them safe. There were unknowns and dangers all around, and the thought of going on their own where the mages couldn’t defend them, had seemed like such a bad idea.

Yet, Sugar had wanted it, and that was enough to gain a bit of leeway from Nightmare, just enough to get the mages to back down a little. He had reminded everyone that before they joined the mages, his Crew were feared among the multiverse. Powerful warriors who had become the stories parents told their children to keep them in line. They had run missions’, solo even, in far more volatile situations and worlds, orchestrated attacks and brought down empires.

Surely, they could spend an afternoon unsupervised at an indoor summer fair that Sugar wanted to attend.

The mages had relented, agreed to let Sugar and Gore go without a guard to follow them around. It would be good for them, Sloan had agreed slowly, to get out of the compound and explore a bit. They lived here now too, this was their territory, and they should be able to go any where in Ebott that they pleased without being tormented.

Crow had tagged along, hadn’t bothered to give a reason beyond a shrug, but he was basically Gore’s bonefriend, and felt he didn’t need to give a reason beyond that. Gore had been delighted he had come at all, and it was good for him to get out too. Even just a little.

Crow wasn’t okay, that much Gore knew, and being out in large crowds made him itchy and uncomfortable. It pushed him too close to the edge of shattering, breaking down and letting all that raw power _out._

Yet, he was sitting quietly next to Sugar’s massive frame, leaning into his shoulder at the back of the bus with his sockets closed. His face was hidden by his breathing apparatus, puffing out pink smoke as he took slow, deep breaths. He’s relaxed against Sugar’s side, with the cap Felix gave him pulled down low to shade his sockets, and he’s loose and unconcerned despite being out in the open.

This is mage territory, Gore hazards a guess, what do they really have to fear here? Why should Crow be stressed? This is a place Crow can relax and be safe, no different from Nightmare’s world.

Gore was leaning against his brother’s other side, his feet kicking out from the seat, gazing out the window as he watched the sun light and city roll by. The number of the bus stop that they were supposed to get off at, was written on a small piece of paper, and he clutched it in his hands tightly, like something precious. Like it was food, and Sloan’s curly writing in bold letters said _99_.

It was the bus stop she had looked up and was the closest one to the summer market.

“Brother?” Sugar whispers with a sudden urgency, the silver of his braces and the orange bands glinting in the sun light, his smile is bright and real, drawing Gore’s gaze from the city to his brothers delighted expression, “Do you think they’ll have fresh honey?”

Gore melts a little, and he grins up at his brother, happy that Sugar is happy. He drools a little, at the thought of honey, and his inventory is heavy with the money Lilith and Felix gave them. Gore was a simple monster, but when two wealthy battle mages gave you cash, you shut up and took it.

He kicks his feet out happily, bound and determined to enjoy this outing. He was going to prove to everyone they weren’t fuck ups and didn’t need a babysitter. They could go into town without it being a disaster.

Besides, if the stories were true, Felix was a walking target for calamity, surely, they couldn’t fuck up anymore then he did. He, after all, got fucking stabbed at the winter marketplace that ended with Sans mercing a bitch.

So really, they shouldn’t be so worried if Felix was allowed to go out on his own still.

“I hope they have cotton candy.” Crow muttered from Sugar’s thick shoulder with the same apathy he always did, “I always wanted to try it.”

Sugar _lights up_ , “I believe they do Crow!” and he pulls the printed information from his inventory, excitedly pointing at the map. Gore leans into his brother, the bus stop number clutched tightly in his hand as he lets Sugar’s excited chatter wash over him.

It was going to be a good day.

-

Things were not going as planned, that much Gore knew.

What he didn’t know, was how they got so off the rails. Frustration wells as he stares at Sloan’s curly writing and the number they were supposed to get off at, 99. They were at bus stop 99, but they clearly weren’t in Ebott’s summer marketplace.

Around them was a rather dead and quiet main strip, of _some_ town, but where, Gore had no idea. He stares down at the number in his hand, then back up to the little sign post next to the bus stop and back again.

Disappointment and the over whelming sense of failure welled through Gore as he stared at the number, and he didn’t understand how this happened. He didn’t understand how he fucked up so badly when he followed all of the instructions. He always is able to follow instructions, so how did he fuck up like this! He had been on raids for fuck sakes, this wasn’t hard! Get on a bus and get off.

He sighs, irritable and hungry, glancing up with his wide, watery eye light to his brother, and sighs again. Sugar’s large seven-foot frame has scrunched down comically small, trying to hide beside Crow while Gore tried to figure out where they went wrong. His massive hand is wrapped tightly around Crow’s and he trembles next to him.

It breaks Gore’s battered and cracked soul. They had such a hard time, and his brother had suffered _so_ much, how could Gore screw the pooch so badly here?

He groans and lifts a skeletal hand to grasp at his dead socket to tug uselessly at it in a vague attempt to make himself feel better. It doesn’t help and it just makes his head hurt.

Crow sighs, his voice even and serious if muffled by his respirator, “Lemme see.”

Gore frowns, tugging harder on his socket as he hands the note over for Crow to inspect. Something like hurt swells in his soul, like he was the fuck up here and this wasn’t some accident, and he should have known better. Should have known he would have fucked this up, that he was scary and not smart, and Nightmare should have known better then to allow them out.

He…wants to be better then this.

Crow frowns, looks at the little 99 and the little mark that Sloan put at their tails and flips the paper over, “We were supposed to get off at bus stop 66.” He rasps quietly, and Sugar’s hand tightens around Crow’s with a whimper.

A drawing horror fills Gore, and something heavy fills his soul, “What?”

Crow nods and hands the crumpled piece of paper back, “Yeah. 66, not 99.”

Gore blinks at him as he takes back the little square and frowns. He feels emotion overwhelm him and he squirms, not sure how to cope with this particularly stupid fuck up. He feels itchy, _bad **,**_ and he doesn’t want to go home to Ripper’s laughter or Nightmare’s disappointed sigh.

His soul feels heavy as he’s overburdened with upset, when Crow reaches out and tilts his head. Stoic and cold as ever, Crow doesn’t smile, can’t really anymore, but he’s gentle when he grips Gore’s shoulder, “Don’t be upset.”

Gore looks up at him with a wide, blob of an eye light, trembling under Crow’s hand as Sugar makes a noise of distress, “Lets see where we are, we’ll take the next bus back and get off at 66. Simple.”

Gore’s mind clears at Crow’s words, and Crow’s steady blue and red eye lights helps stabilize him. It’s easy to _not_ fall into bad habits with Crow’s help, and his grin is a little wider then necessary when he smiles at Crow.

Nodding, Crow leads them back to the bus stop 99, and it’s one Gore has decided to hate in his foggy, broken mind, and let’s Crow lead them back to the map of the route.

Gore’s hand falls down low to Crow’s, sinking his fingers in between his, to hold his hand and he sighs when Crow squeezes his hand.

“Crow?” Sugar asks, soft and afraid, and when Gore looks over, his head starting to ache, and he sees a woman staring with open mouthed horror. It makes Gore frown, it’s rude, that much he knows, but really, they shouldn’t be so surprised. “Where are we?”

Crow hums as he squints up at the map, and Gore starts to take in his surroundings now that the panic from his mistake has faded. They’re on a main street, that much is certain, and there’s a pizza place across the road and a book shop, but this place seems weird. Like somethings wrong, and Gore just can’t quite put his finger on it.

It’s wrong enough that, if he or Crow could still have shortcutted home, he would have.

Squinting around them, it clicks in his addled head the same time Crow hisses. There were no other monsters or fairy tale folk here, and they were all over Ebott.

“We’re in fucking Hollindale.” Crow hisses, his respirator puffing out a darker pink smoke as it tries to stabilize him, and his socket flashes purple as his magic surges. Gore can feel it crackle against his bones, and despite what’s happening here, it brings him a measure of comfort.

Sugar makes a small, wet noise as the woman backs away from them, mouth agape with horror and hatred, “Isn’t this a monster hating town?” Sugar asks lowly, scrunching his massive frame so low his glasses nearly fall off as he tries to hide behind Crow.

The woman’s intent is like an alarm to them as she turns and runs, dropping her bag in her haste with a shriek.

It makes them all flinch, the sudden shrill noise, and suddenly its like being on a raid again. Screaming and the growing violence, and Gore is filled with dismay. This wasn’t what he wanted his brother to see, he wanted a _good day_.

Crow is moving, suddenly twitchy and filled with the anticipation of violence, “We have to get off the street. Out of the open.” He sounds angry, voice hard as he looks around wildly. He drags them to the alley between the pizza place and the book shop, the bones of his hands trembling.

Gore isn’t sure if its from uncertainly, although that’s doubtful, or he’s trying to control his LV, and that’s more likely.

“Call Sloan or Lilith.” Crow barks as he drags them off the street, and into the shadows of the buildings, “Quick. Before someone else fucking sees us.”

Crow drags them to around the pizza place and shoves them down against the wall, boxing Sugar in between Gore and the garbage bin. He looks around wildly, hands clenching and unclenching as he stands as a guard, waiting for someone to happen upon them and then there would be killing to do.

…

Killing that would get the mages in trouble.

With his soul swelling with sheer failure, Gore takes his brother’s hand, and with the other, he pulls out his cell phone. He dials Sloan’s number first, and hopes he can get in touch with her so she can come get them before Sugar has to watch them fall into blood lust and the mages needed to clean up their mess.

He squeezes his phone, as it rings, and is silently glad his axe is still nestled in his inventory, beside the money that Lilith and Felix had given him.

-

Heaving a tired sigh, Ricky Buck Williams drags the heavy black garbage bag out the back of the pizzeria he worked at, grumbling about the weight of it, annoyed that his partner, yet again, over filled them until he couldn’t lift them. It meant that Ricky always had to take the garbage out even when it was Johns turn.

The fucker.

Dragging the overstuffed bags to the closest of the three trash cans, and the sour smell of garbage is strong, probably due to the heat of the day. He drops both bags to the ground, against the massive metal bins to pull the lid open with a huff.

Sweat drips down his forehead and neck, soaking him in the heat and he curses John again. The first bag goes up and over the lip of the can easily enough, but when the second bag splits down the middle, spilling sauce and pizza all over the place, Ricky knows its _just that sort of day_.

Dropping what’s left of the bag into the trash, he steps back, wiping his sweaty hand off on his pants and glares at the spilled trash with dismay. Just his fucking day, his month, his fucking life.

Grumbling under his breath, his chest filling with what felt like water and pressure, Ricky takes a moment to chill out. He doesn’t want to go inside and yell at John at the end of his shift, it’s just not a good look.

He didn’t need the fucking headache.

Pressing the heal of his palm into his forehead, Ricky takes a breath, tries to stay positive, all the while hating is fucking life.

He knows, _knows,_ his life isn’t that bad, even after Amber died. He knows it could have been so much worse, he could have had it worse, and knows that there are lots of people out there that had it rough. Definitely rougher then he does, so he tries not to dwell. He tries so hard to look at the good in his life, the advantages that he had over his peers.

It was just… sometimes it was hard to always be the positive one. The one to always look on the bright side when he felt like he was drowning.

Heaving a sigh, he runs a hand through his blonde hair and tries to shove the overwhelming feeling down, tries to ignore it and just get through the rest of his shift. At seventeen he can already see his life mapped out before him, the trail laid by someone else without his input.

There were _expectations_ of him, pressed onto him by his mother, his school and community. When he had topped out at six three, it had only been natural that he had joined the foot ball team, working his way up to the starting quarterback.

Which meant, naturally, he dated the head cheer leader, since that’s just what you did. He was popular and cool, with a full ride to the local college for some bullshit course he didn’t want to take just so he could play foot ball.

He scoffed at the notion.

He’d gotten very good at _hiding._ At blending in.

Sure, he was the star quarterback, of a shitty, one horse town with closed minded, bigoted fucks. He had a full ride scholarship, to the local community college that bent a knee to the will of the closed-minded people here, and he would never get to go to the school he wanted. He was nearly eighteen, and already it felt like his whole life was far beyond his control.

He would probably marry his high school girlfriend, who was just as awful as the rest of the people in Hollindale and they’d probably have a bunch of kids who would be just like her. He’d take a middle management job, and fucking peek in high school.

He’d spend the rest of his life listening to the people around him complain about the mages and fairy tale folk. Listen to them spew garbage about the monsters that came from the underground, and the horrible things they gossiped about. He’d be stuck listening to the horrible things they said about the mage’s mates. They’re skeletons, apparently, and what a thought.

But no, Ricky would never meet mages or skeletons, he would never get to go on adventures, and he would never leave this shitty town. He would forever wonder, what if, while he grew resentful of the life he had and he would come full circle and become his father.

It was no wonder his old man left, burned his ma’s ass when he did to. But Ricky got it, he did. Rumor had it, his dad was with a wood nymph now, some place deep in Pandora’s territory and wasn’t that just a scandal.

Maybe, with any luck, that could be Ricky one day too. Difference is, he wouldn’t leave his kids with their crazy mother for them to be neglected.

With a sigh, he turns and leans his back against the garbage bin and sinks to the ground to squat. Running his hand through his hair again, he takes a moment, a break just to fantasize what his life _could_ be like.

There was a university in Ebott, one that had the _best_ culinary course. Like world renowned with an internship with a mage coven in France. _That_ was Ricky’s dream school, one where he would get out of this town and away from these small-minded people.

He’d get the chance to explore himself, really figure out who he was and what he wanted. He’d get to explore the world and meet new people. He’d get to really meet monsters and fairy tale folk, talk to humans who weren’t all raised to think that they were inherently wrong and evil.

He’d dye is fucking blonde hair the most obnoxious shade of pink because his mother would hate it. But…Amber would have loved it.

Ah well, there was no point in dwelling on what would never be. His mother would never allow him to go into mage territory to go to school, and never for something she would deem as a stupid career. He had no funds of his own, he’d never be able to pay for tuition on his own, and he had no credit to get a loan.

It wasn’t like his mother was going to help him get one either.

Pushing himself up, he wipes the sweat from his brow with a frown. Well, there wasn’t much for it. Wasn’t like he could change his stars and get a new life. He had to deal with the one he’d been dealt, and he’d make it work. Somehow. Find a measure of peace here, when no one else would help him.

It wasn’t like superhero’s actually existed, and if they did, they wouldn’t be found here.

Might as well enjoy his last summer of fun, the last one before college and cling to what was left of his childhood. His shift has ended, he’ll get this mess cleaned up and get home. His ma’s working late tonight, which means he gets the house to himself.

It’s in the midst of picking up sour smelling, rotting pizza crusts, he hears it. A thump against the side of one of the garbage can’s makes him jerk in surprise, and he drops the refuse back to the ground. Its almost like a horror movie, like something out of a Steven King novel, as something hollow thuds against the side of the bin again.

It’s heavy and hard, and the sound muffled, followed by a soft, relieved voice speaking in a hushed tone.

He knows he should leave, just fucking book it back into the pizzeria and go home. It was _stupid_ to go look at what the hell was making the racket, it was dumb. This is what dumb people did in horror movies, so Ricky didn’t understand why the fuck he was walking towards the noise with shuffling steps. Like something hooked into his chest and drew him in.

Maybe it was curiosity that spurred him on, or something else, but Ricky slowly came around the corner of the garbage bin and felt his mouth fall open in utter shock. 

Sitting clustered together around the garbage bin, three skeletons turned to look up at him. The largest one with broken teeth crunches down in on himself, and there are great tears in his eyes that slip helplessly down his face.

It’s the other two that are utterly terrifying. The one pressed against the big one’s side has a massive whole in his skull, its one eye was wide and blood red, like blood in the water. Fury isn’t the word Ricky would use to describe the anger in his expression, but it was as close a word as he could figure. 

The second is far more frightening. Its eyes are wide and wild, flashing in red and blue in a sickening strobe, but its his face that makes Ricky shiver. It’s a dead and blank expression, like there’s nothing there, no emotion at all. Like it was as dead inside as it was on the outside.

A scream is building in his throat, out of sheer shock and horror, stunned at what he’s seeing here, when the most particular thing happened.

The one with the hole in his head has a phone pressed to its skull, and a high voice is saying something to it on the other end, drawing its attention back to the phone. The red in his socket shrinks and he _relaxes._ “Hey, uh. Lilith we might have to call you back.”

“Wholly shit.” He blurts, “You mean like, actually Lilith? Lady Death?” that earns him more harsh looks and the return of the crimson magic in its socket.

Ricky studies them as they glare at him, cold and ruthless, and it sends a shiver down his whole body. Still, he manages to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and clears his throat, “You’re the monsters that live with the mages, aren’t you?”

None of them answer, and Ricky’s voice goes small, “What are you doing here?” he asks quietly.

It’s the big one that answers, his gaze watery and afraid, and his braces glint in the high sun, “We got off the wrong stop.”

Ricky blinks at him, and the big skeleton with the glasses blinks back, “You got off on the wrong stop?” his voice goes soft at the decimated look the skeleton gives him, and he nods.

It takes Ricky a minute to understand what he’s talking about, “You wanted bus stop 66.” He says finally, earning another watery nod, and so far, the two that make him uncomfortable haven’t moved an inch. Ricky isn’t even sure they’re breathing.

“You need to get out of here.” Ricky tells them suddenly, as the situation becomes clear and everything makes sense, “You can’t be here. The people here aren’t kind.”

The one with the dead expression snorts, “No shit kid.” Ricky flinches at his harsh tone and steps back as thick pink smoke lifts from his mask.

Something old and instinctual is telling him to run, hide, that these monsters were predators, and he was the prey. Yet, glancing to the large one, Ricky feels his heart pull and he’s filled with compassion.

“Um. I can help?” that makes the two smaller skeletons glower at him with suspicion and hatred in their sockets. “I can’t take you to the boarder, my mom. She’d, ah, she’d know I drove the car too far, but you can hide out at my place until someone can come get you. If. Uh. You want.” He offers awkwardly, earning more hard, suspicious stares that make him squirm.

The big one sniffs a little, some of his fear slowly abating, “I’m Sugar.” He tells Ricky hesitantly, “This is my brother Gore.” The one with the hole in his head looks up, the phone still pressed to his skull, “And this is Crow.” The dead eyed one levels a flat look at him, making him squirm.

“I’m Ricky.” He offers lowly but doesn’t dare come closer, even when the big one grins. Its wide and crooked, and there’s something wrong about it, but Ricky can’t quite put his finger on the issue.

He’s about to offer the ride again, when the door to the pizzeria opens, making them all jump and the skeletons hiss as they press inward together. The owner of the shop, Doc, comes out the back door, heavy set and balding, he frowns, “What’cha doing Ricky? You’ve been out here for ever, thought you were taking the garbage out before you left.”

From the corner of his eye, Ricky can see the three monsters freeze, can see Crow press himself in front of Gore and Sugar, and his weird painters mask huffs out more bright pink smoke.

Years spent lying to his mother suddenly kick into gear, like muscle memory born from the days she had come home too drunk or too angry, and he needed to just survive, “Sorry Doc.” Ricky tells him smoothly, the horror washing away and replaced with a bright, crooked grin, “Just found some raccoons eating from the dumpster again. Chased ‘em off. I’ll get this place cleaned up before I head home.”

Doc blinks at him and his mild expression, but Ricky can feel the heat and fear from the cluster of monsters. Ricky doesn’t waiver until Doc grins with a chuckle, “Thanks kid. Make sure your home before your ma is, she’ll not be too pleased if your late.” He pauses and frowns, “And be careful going home. Karen just called to tell me she saw three monsters around.” 

The monsters coil tighter, and Ricky’s afraid one of them will break a bone. Doc sneers, “Can you believe that? That trash here?” There’s an aborted growl that’s cut off by Sugar and Crow is quickly silenced, “Karen’s been calling everyone to tell ‘em. Got the police all over the place.” Doc spat like he had a bad taste in his mouth, “We’ll fine ‘em though. Send ‘em back to their mage’s in an ashtray.”

It’s not a good idea, Ricky thinks, to antagonize magical creatures that were aptly named after the four horsemen of the apocalypse and the mother of evil. But everyone always told Ricky he was just a kid, and what did he know?

Instead, Ricky plasters on his smile thicker, the same one that helped made sure he had an easy ride through high school, “Sure Doc. I’ll go right home.”

Doc grins again, “Good boy.” He huffs a sigh and looks around at the spilt garbage, “All right Rick. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nodding back, Ricky bids him good day, and doesn’t look back to the frightening monsters until well after Doc’s gone back inside.

Gore and Crow still look like they want to kill him, and Ricky kinda gets it, but Sugar’s looking at him like he’s just turned water into wine. “He’s a kindness soul.” He says in awe, beady sockets wide and they somehow _sparkle_ with happiness. 

Crow rolls his eye lights, and Gore goes back to talking to _Lilith._

“Sug.” Crow rubs his sockets as the magic wanes and he shakes himself out like a dog shaking off water, “Who cares if he’s got a kindness soul.” He still speaks in that weird, dead sort of way that makes Ricky shiver, “He’s still human.”

“Okay.” Ricky interjects, “Sure. But, what are you going to do? Sit here until Lilith comes to get you?” Crow glares but has no answer for him, and Ricky sighs deeply, “My moms not home. I can keep you outta sight until she can come.”

Crow squints at him, and the purple magic starts to flair alarmingly again, “Why are you helping us?”

He falters and stutters a little, and Ricky frowns, “Its.” He hesitates, “The right thing to do.”

Crow squints harder and Sugar makes a high-pitched noise that someone his size shouldn’t be able to make, “See!” he gasps, the delight makes Ricky grin, “Kindness soul!”

Crow rolls his weird eye light things, “Could be Justice.” He points out roughly, blinking slowly at Sugar.

Gore suddenly gives him a savage grin from between the two, and huffs a dark laugh as he thrust out his phone towards Ricky, and it makes his stomach drop. Gore looks delighted, “Lilith wants to talk to you.” He chirps happily, like he’s about to enjoy someone being led to their demise.

Ricky blinks at him, eyes wide with shock that this is happening, “Like. _The_ Lilith? Death?”

Gore shrugs, still holding out his phone, “We just call her Lilith.”

Ricky nods, trying not to _freak the fuck out_ , and carefully takes the phone from the cold, skeletal hands. He lifts the phone to his ear and takes a breath, “Hello?”

“Listen to me and listen carefully.” The coldest voice that Ricky had ever heard speaks smoothly over the phone, “If anything happens to them while they’re in your care, I will make it my mission in life to ensure that you never experience happiness again.”

Ricky freezes, feels his hands go sweaty and he swallows hard as Lilith continues, “I am motivated, and a force of concentrated will.” Ricky hears someone in the background laugh, and something about determination being yelled at her, but Lilith ignores them. 

Ricky isn’t stupid enough to laugh either.

“I will destroy you. I will wipe out _three_ generations of your family if you lay a hand on any of them, do you understand?” she asks with brutal efficiency, and Ricky doesn’t doubt her for a moment.

“Yes.” He whispers, a little terrified, and he isn’t stupid enough to say anything but yes.

Her tone doesn’t change, “What’s your name? Where will you be hiding them?”

Ricky swallows and realizes that he’s giving his full address and name to someone who’s threatened to kill him, and he believes her.

The alternative is more frightening, and he rattles off his address with a shaky voice as the three skeletons watch him, “And uh. Ricky.”

“What’s your full name Ricky?” she demands, making him flinch.

He takes a breath, “Ricky Buck Williams.”

He hears Lilith breathing, soft and smooth, and he realizes that she isn’t flustered by the threat she will no doubt carry out if she felt he was a threat to these monsters.

“We will see you in two hours Ricky.”

He isn’t sure he’s ever been so thankful and yet horrified to end a phone call. His body feels cold, almost shocky as he handed Gore his phone back. Lady Death knew his name and where he lived, and an odd roll of excitement fills him.

He’s never done anything like this before, something so wrong in the eyes of his community. An adventure before he was stuck in his shitty life. A chance to make a difference.

Grinning, wide and broad, he stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out his keys, “So listen.” He starts with a grin, “My car isn’t far.” And he holds out the keys to Crow, who narrows his sockets on him again, staring suspiciously at the offered item, “Take my keys and you can hide out there.” He tells them brightly, “I’ll be there in a few! I’ll get this cleaned up and check out.”

Crow takes the keys slowly, clenching them tightly in his hand with narrowed sockets, “You trust us not to steal a car?” he asks, sounding a little doubtful.

It takes a little of the wind out of Ricky’s sails, “Well. Yeah.” He shrugs, and beams at them again, “I trust ya.”

Crow blinks up at him, and Gore snorts as he pushes himself up off the ground. With his hand fisted around his brother’s hand, Gore grins a little cruelly, “Well, you wouldn’t be the first asshole to make that mistake.”

It makes Ricky’s smile fall a little, and Gore shrugs, “But Lilith said to be good.” He gives a little wink, his smile a little _too_ crooked, _“_ See ya in a bit kid.”

With that, they meandered off, in the direction of his car and disappeared from view.

Taking a breath, Ricky settles himself and squares up. He can do this. He’s sure he can.

-

He can’t do this.

That much Ricky is certain. Not with the line of cars trying to get off main street and the police blockade keeping them all in a tight line, bumper to bumper. His hands are white knuckled around the wheel, and Ricky feels like he’s going to have a heart attack. 

From the back seat, hidden carefully under his football gear and blankets, the three skeletons in his charge have squashed themselves down and low in the space behind the front seats, giggling like this _isn’t_ a life or death situation.

If they think the jokes are helping, they’re all wrong.

“This is a _smelly_ situation.” Gore giggles from under his football equipment and a blanket, and it makes Crow huff a laugh.

“I think its more of a _killer_ situation.” Crow huffs quietly, earning an amused groan from Sugar, “It’s a good think they can’t get under our skin.”

“Careful Crow,” Gore tells him with glee, “They might have ears on us.” Ricky rolls his eyes, because yeah, he gets it. They don’t have ears or skin.

“I’m pretty sure this is gonna be a _murder_ of a time.” Crow whispers back as Ricky moves the car forward.

Gore laughs, before he quickly choked it back, “Axe me about it.”

“You guys aren’t helping!” Ricky hissed from the front seat, forcing a smile at the police officer two cars up when he makes eye contact.

Crow huffs, and kicks his seat, “Oh, stop being such a meat sack.” Ricky frowned, catching himself from looking back.

“There are cops up ahead!” he hissed back, earning another giggle from his recently acquired peanut gallery.

“Ohhhh,” Gore laughed, “A cop.”

“They’re just adults.” Crow added in, sounding amused.

“Adults with authority.” Ricky hisses back as the police officer leans into talk to the car a head of him.

“ _Adults with authority_.” Gore mocked like a shit, and it makes Ricky roll his eyes.

“Kid.” Crow starts, kicking his seat again, “You’re a football player, right?”

Ricky nods, his grip tight on the wheel, “Yeah.”

“Then pretend this is a game and _calm the fuck down.”_ Crow hisses, but Ricky can hear the grin, “Do whatever calming shit you do before the big game, and chill. It’s just a cop.”

Ricky rolls his eyes, slowly bringing up the car, he mutters, “Easy for you to say.” He sighs deeply, and settles, “Okay, be quiet. We’re here.”

Surprisingly, the trio in his back seat fall quiet and still, unmoving under all the crap he has in his car and he presses on his best smile.

The officer that leans forward is one he knows, had been his dads’ best friend before he skipped town and had tried to date his mother after that shit show was over. His mother may have been a functioning alcoholic, but even she drew the line there.

Still, Ricky grins at the taller man, and lays on the charm, “Heya Officer Murry.” His heart is pounding in his chest so fucking hard that he nearly feels breathless, and he just needs to get home. “How ya doing?”

His voice sounds smooth despite how his heart feels like its going to beat its way out of his ribs, and Murry grins at him, “Ah, hey Ricky.” He says brightly, his grin kind towards him, “Its been a day.” He glanced to the back of his car, sees the junk piled up in his back seat, his football equipment.

He looks back to Ricky, and his bright, easy-going smile falls a little, and he drops his voice lower, “Mrs. Clever saw a bunch of monsters.” He sounds scandalized, horrified by this, and he licks his lips nervously, “Can you believe that? Monsters. The hell are those disgusting things even doing here?”

Ricky does his best not to _sweat_ , and shrugs, “Sure. Gross.” He feels Crow press his knees into the back of his chair, and Ricky lets out a nervous laugh.

Murry grins at his agreement, tipping his hat up out of his eyes, “Tell me about it Rick.” Murry blows a breath out through his teeth, and Ricky squeezes the steering wheel tightly. He tries to keep his smile up, despite how he feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s almost out, he just needs to hold it together a little longer.

Murry pats the top of the car twice before he grins, “Alright Rick. Get your ass home before your late.”

“Will do Officer Murry.” He brightens his grin for good measure even as his palms sweat, “I hope you catch the bastards.” He adds brightly to seal the deal and complete the impression that he was just like them, even when he feels Crow’s knees again in the back of his chair like a warning.

Ricky stays calm.

Murry waves him through, and says with a laugh, “They’ll turn up.” They won’t, Ricky’s making sure of it, and Murry’s grin goes cruel, “And when we do, we’ll send those boys back to their dead-beat mages in an ashtray.”

Crows knees press harder into the back of his chair, and Ricky just nods along. “Sure will. See ya Murry.”

He’s waived through, and Ricky knows he’s only being swept through because he _knows_ Murry, as much as he was an asshole. His bias was letting Ricky through their shitty barricade without doing a proper check.

The monsters in the back seat feel the car picking up speed and manage to stay quiet until they’re a little further away before they burst out laughing. They kicked off the stuff and pulled themselves off from the floor with giggles.

“Oh fuck,” Gore laughed out loud, curling over in his laughter, “Oh fuck! That was great.” He dissolves into giggles, and it makes Crow and Sugar smile as they settle properly in his car.

“Look at you, bad ass.” Crow deadpanned, “Lying to cops.” He tsked like he was disappointed at him, “Next thing you know, you’ll be stealing and doing drugs.”

Gore is still giggling, “Your life is over now kid. You’re gonna spiral downward and be degenerates like us.”

It makes Ricky crack a smile, and he feels fuzzy in the post adrenaline high that came with sheer panic of lying like that. Taking a breath Ricky relaxes, and offers them a crooked grin, “I’ve known you for less then an hour, and I’ve ruined my life.”

That makes them laugh, for some reason, cackle really. Like it was the best joke Ricky had told in years.

Relaxing, Ricky eases down into the driver’s seat of his mother’s car and grins. It’s an adventure he’ll never forget, a secret he’ll take to his grave and it’s the most fun he’s had in years.

He laughs at the dark jokes they sling out at each other and wonders if this is what having friends is like.

-

Getting them into the house was another mission, to do it without the neighbors seeing and calling the police or starting a panic. He had done it, carefully and quickly, but now he was staring at three skeletons blinking back at him with varying degrees of confusion, and he wonders what he needs to do now.

Ricky rocks back onto his heels and claps his hands awkwardly as the three of them stare back at him, “Sooooo,” he starts and rubs at his arms nervously at their unblinking stare, “What do you guys want to do?”

They all blink at him, slowly, like cats trying to figure out if they had enough power in their legs to propel them a long distance. Its an awkwardly long pause, and Ricky is just starting to realize how socially inept these guys were.

“I’m hungry.” Gore suddenly declares, head tilting in a way that makes the hole in his head look bigger and the edges sharp.

Ricky barely suppresses the wince at the injury, and he fights the question of how it happened hard, swallowing it down.

Sugar sighs deeply next to his brother, and the sockets behind the thick black glasses narrow on Gore, “ _Brother_!” he scolds, “That’s rude!”

Gore turns to him and grins, “Right. Sorry bro.” he itches at one of the sharp edges of the hole, “Sometimes my _brains_ leak outa my head and I forget.”

Crow snickers, his respirator puffing light pink smoke, but Ricky doesn’t have the guts to ask about it. He chuckles inwardly at that, thinks his house guests would find that one funny, and he should try to bring it up in conversation later.

Instead he grins at them, “It’s okay, I can make you lunch!”

That draws their attention back to him again, Crow’s head tilting, and his body movements seem to project his emotions more then his voice does. Sugar’s sockets go wide with a painful sort of hope that makes something pang in Ricky’s heart. Its Gore who narrows his sockets, and the blood red of his eye light thing blooms, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

There’s something dangerous about how Gore says it, the tone of his voice and all joking and teasing is gone. Ricky feels himself go still, and something like ice goes down the back of his neck, and the hair standing on end. He swallows hard, and forces a grin, “I’m not.” He reassures, glancing around the kitchen.

“I can make some spaghetti, if you want?” Ricky offers, sees how Sugar lights up, even as Gore’s eyes narrow further.

“A spaghetti connoisseur?” Sugar gasps out, inching ever closer to Ricky, his massive, bulky frame slowly starting to straighten as his confidence builds, “I, too, enjoy the craft that is creating a delectable dish of spaghetti.” His beady sockets seem to light up, somehow, and Ricky thinks that it must be joy, and it makes him grin.

It makes him wonder how anyone could hate someone like Sugar, and he knows the people of Hollindale are _wrong_.

Sugar takes a hesitant step forward, wringing his hands in front of him, “Lola has been teaching me to cook.” He whispered hopefully, and he kept glancing up to him and away from him again and again nervously.

It makes Ricky grin, “Do you want to help me Sugar?” he offers gently, rocking back on his heels.

His offer makes Sugar light up, and he practically vibrates with excitement, “Honestly? I can help?”

“Sure! Come on, we’ll do it together.” He tells them, nodding towards the small kitchen, leading them inside, and urging Crow and Gore to sit at the table while they cook.

Sugar is beyond excited, nearly jumping with joy as he follows Ricky inside, “Do you like cooking Ricky?” he asks as Ricky pulls out pots, and behind Sugar, Crow is watching him with the intent of a hunting cat and Gore’s tapping his fingers on the wooden table menacingly.

Ricky stays the course, and _knows_ he’s doing the right thing, “I do.” He sets the pots on the stove top to keep them out of the way, and pulls an onion from the fridge, “I really enjoy cooking.” He tells them as he pulls out the cutting board, and asks Sugar to dice the onion.

He’s delighted to do so, while Ricky fills up the pots with water. “I really want to go to the culinary school in Ebott.” He tells them suddenly, spilling his greatest secrets to perfect strangers. Yet, these are strangers who he’ll never see again, “They’ve got the best school in the country.”

Sugar nods, looking delighted, “Yes. Sloan told me that they help fund some of the classes.” Its such a rush to hear them refer to the mages so casually, like they don’t see how _amazing_ it is they know them. How lucky they are to get to be near such cool people. “Are you going?” 

His grin falls a little as he pulls out the noodles, “It’s expensive, so I can’t afford to go.” He admits a little sadly, making Crow and Gore straighten a little, and Sugar frowns.

“Aren’t there like, loans and shit?” Gore asks, dropping his head into his hand.

Ricky shrugs, “Yeah, but my mom makes too much money to apply for school loans, and she won’t pay for me to go to school in Ebott.” He isn’t stupid enough to ask, “And when I turn nineteen, sure I could apply for my own, but I don’t think I would get enough with having no credit score. So, I’m stuck here.”

He shrugs as he starts to make the sauce, its from a jar, but its not bad, “But its okay.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince them or himself that it was, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t make it sound as such, “I’ll go to school here. Get a middle management job or something.”

Gore snorts, “That sounds like, a thousand percent more boring.”

Crow nods his agreement, “Yeah. Aren’t there like, scholarships and shit?”

Ricky shrugs, “Sure there are. But I got a full ride playing football to the in-city college, which is fine.” He’s quick to reassure, “And trying to get one of the scholarships at Ebott University, is really hard. They rarely take students from outside mage territory, and I don’t think anyone from Hollindale has ever applied.”

He gives another shrug, “But its okay.”

Crow and Gore share a look, and Sugar’s frown deepens. Crow looks up at him from the table, “So. Let me get this straight. You’re playing football, to go to a school you don’t want to go to, for people who won’t help you be happy?”

Ricky startles, glancing over to Crow, surprised he could _see_ so much with so little. He shrugs again, “Well, sometimes that’s just what it is.” It wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

Gore and Crow share a look, one that Ricky can’t read well before they look back to him.

Sugar clears his throat, leaving Ricky to wonder how he did that, “Well, I’m sure your doing your best.” He nods when Ricky looks over to him, “But um. You should apply to the scholarship in Ebott.”

Ricky manages a laugh, but it’s a little throaty, “Yeah, Amber used to say the same. Used to tell me to not give up, and if I just believe, I could become a chef.”

Sugar nodded, “Amber sounds very smart, I like her.” He looks up to Ricky, “Who is she?”

Ricky offers a shrug, “She was my sister.” He told them with a nod.

“Was?” Sugar asked gently from where he was carefully dicing the onion into perfect little squares.

Keeping his eyes down on what he was doing, Ricky nodded, “Yeah, was.” The awkward silence is back, weird and heavy, and he starts speaking with a desperate need to fill the quiet, “She ah. Got really sick.” He suddenly blurts, “A few years back something nasty was going around, and a lot of people got sick. It was so bad, all the Covens from around the world dispatched healers to try to combat the illness. Lola offered to come to Hollindale on her own to work through our hospital to help the sick.”

Ricky sighed again, stirring some ground beef into the sauce, “But our Mayor refused to let her in. Some bull shit about mages being abominations, and magic was wrong, and they didn’t want that kind of corruption in our town. The mages offered sanctuary to any families with sick members in Ebott to start over, but maybe two families left? Anyways, my sister got really sick, and didn’t make it.”

He checks the noodles, and they’re not quite done yet, “So yeah. My mom blamed the mages, since it had to be there fault some how.”

That had been a shit show, and when her drinking really got bad. She blamed everyone for his sister’s death. She blamed their dad, Lola, thought that Sloan must have been the one to magic the illness into existence, the fairy tale folk. Hell, she even blamed Ricky himself, as if he should have somehow been able to stop his sister from dying.

He would have traded places with her, if he could have.

“So. Yeah.” He tells them as Sugar carefully scrapes the onion into the sauce, and Ricky feels his heart go heavy.

Sugar pauses and carefully sets down the cutting board. Quietly, barely above a whisper, he says, “I’m sorry Ricky.”

That surprises him, and he can count on one hand the amount of people who actually said they were sorry for his loss. His friends certainly hadn’t, his girlfriend thought he was being a baby by crying when his sister died, and everyone thought he was making Amber’s death about himself if he showed emotion.

So, he just…didn’t.

“Ricky.” Sugar tells him carefully, under Gore and Crow’s watchful, keen sockets, “Lola says I have to ask permission to touch people.” He laughs a little watery laugh, and Ricky nods. Yeah, that’s important. “May I give you a hug?”

He doesn’t realize that his eyes are wet and full, and part of him thinks its silly that he’s this upset. That these perfect strangers were kinder to him then his own, awful, bigoted friends. Kinder then the people he was stuck with, “Sure Sugar.”

Ricky isn’t sure what to expect from a hug from Sugar. Maybe like hugging a Halloween decoration. Yet, Sugar is warm, and there’s a buzz to his bones that must be the magic in his body, and his hug is tight when he wraps his arms around him.

Sugar is huge, easily seven feet or taller, and he makes Ricky feel small. He hugs him like his mother never did, and Sugar is kind enough not to mention the wetness in his eyes. It’s ridiculous that this is making him feel like this, but Ricky hugs him back for all his worth.

“You should apply for the scholarship Ricky.” Sugar whispers to him, even as Crow and Gore continue to watch him carefully, and he doesn’t doubt they would gut him if he were to harm Sugar.

He sniffles a little, “Sure Sugar.” He mutters, because it’s the only thing he can get out, but he never did have his sisters determination.

“There, there.” Sugar actually pats him on the back like a little kid, “It’ll be alright.” He promises, but in all honestly, Ricky doesn’t really believe him.

After all, how could it ever? 

-

The awkwardness of lunch passed quickly enough, and the skeletons had moved on from his embarrassing burst of random sadness like they’d seen it before. Crow had made a comment about depression, and how all Sansy types had it in some form, but Ricky didn’t understand what the hell that even meant.

They had eaten lunch in his kitchen, and it had been the kindness, _happiest_ meal he’d had since Amber died. Then, they had helped him clean up the kitchen, and tidy it up so his mother would never find out that he was harboring fugitives.

It was a better afternoon then he’s had in a long time, and he had way more fun with them then his own friends.

They sat clustered around the television in the living room, playing Mario Party with pop and snacks. It’s a game he doesn’t get to play often with people, he usually plays online with random strangers on the internet because his friends think Nintendo is lame and for babies.

The monsters are clearly not babies, and Ricky doesn’t doubt for a moment that they would take each and everyone of his friends in a fight. Yet, here they are, playing Mario Party with him with peels of laughter and _really_ bad jokes.

Still, it’s the best afternoon Ricky’s had in a very, very long time, and he knows all good things have to come to an end eventually.

There’s a knock at the front door, sharp and business like that makes them all freeze and zone in on the front part of the house. At least its not his mom, she wouldn’t have knocked, but fear creeps through Ricky like ivy that it might be Officer Murry.

He’s afraid that maybe, he wasn’t so slick, and that someone saw him leave with the monsters. He panics, for a moment, at what the hell is he going to do if it is? Could he defend them, if that was the case? Where would they go?

The monster’s sockets glide to him, froze in time as he stares at the door, and sweats.

“Uh, Ricky? You gonna get the door?” Gore asks from his place on the couch, curled up with his legs tucked under him. He’s gone back to his game, not at all concerned by the knock.

Gore and Sugar go back to the game too, waiting for their turn, leaving Ricky to go and answer the knock at his own front door.

With a rough swallow, he pushes himself up, feeling numb and afraid, and he can’t quite feel his hands, as he makes his way slowly to the front entrance. It feels surreal, like he’s having an out of body experience as he makes his way over, and he can taste ash in his mouth.

He’s slow to unlock the deadbolt, like he’s about to be attacked by whoever is on the other side, and he pulls it open, and his mind stalls.

Ricky knows he’s not a small dude. He’s built for football, at six feet, three inches and one of the best quarterbacks their town has ever seen.

Yet, Lilith of Pandora makes him feel _small_ , even if she’s a full four inches shorter then he is. Its surreal to see her here, on his front step glowering up at him with bright crimson eyes with a look of fury that could cow anyone he personally knows.

Her long reddish-brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail and hidden under a black baseball cap. She’s wearing short jean shorts and sneakers, and looking weirdly pedestrian in her tank top. Despite the chill he gets from her, the open hostility, Ricky silently _fan boys_ over the fact that _Lilith_ is on his front fucking step.

“You Ricky?” she asks coldly, and he’s surprised that frost didn’t come from her breath with how cold those words are.

He nods, glancing behind her to a black jeep, and he feels his heart speed up when he sees _Ryder_. The massive blond man is leaning against the glossy paint of the jeep, his tree like arms crossed over his massive, barreled chest, and oh god, Ricky’s sure he’s blushing.

“Yeah.” He breathes out slowly, still starting at Ryder’s narrowed eyes, “I am.”

Lilith doesn’t break her glare, and Ricky flinches at the car that goes by, but no one even does a double take. His eyes go wide in realization, “They couldn’t see us.” He all but gasps, “This is so cool!”

Tilting her head, Lilith’s eyes narrow, “Ryder’s emitting invisibility.” She tells him coldly, before her acidic tone asked, “Where are my Den mates?”

He flinches at the harshness of her tone, and scratches the back of his neck, “Um. Inside. We’re playing Mario Party.” Her eyes narrow further into angry slits, “Um. Come in. We’re just finishing up.”

She holds his gaze a moment longer, like she’s judging if she needs to slap the shit out of him, before she stands down a little, shakes out her shoulders to relax, and nods. She doesn’t wait for an offer to come inside before she shoulders her way in, brushing past him like she had a right to be there.

Ricky lets her go, knows that she’s here for her Den mates and he isn’t stupid enough to fuck around with an angry battle mage to try to make a point.

She does, however, kick off her sneakers, and that much Ricky is grateful for as he follows her into the living room. With a great put-upon sigh, Ricky watches with amusement as Lilith crosses her arms over her chest and raises her brow at the three skeletons, and shakes her head at them.

Not one of them raise their skulls to her, and Gore’s tongue is caught in his teeth as he focuses on the game, the cheery music telling Ricky he was missing a mini round.

“How?” is all Lilith asked, her voice much warmer towards the monsters sitting on his couch, playing his game, then it was towards him.

Gore and Crow shrug, still focused on the game that Ricky has clearly lost, and only Sugar answers, “Got off the wrong stop.”

“Numbers are tricky like that.” Gore adds, tilting his body with this character as if that would somehow make Princess Peach move better.

Lilith licks her upper lip and rolls her eyes, “Great. We gotta go.”

This demand is met with a course of groans and whines, and Crow’s voice oddly small and hurt, “But I’m about to win.” Makes even Ricky raise a brow at them.

He glances to Lilith, expects her to drag them out of there, but she takes a patient breath and rolls her hand, “Hurry up.”

This time her voice is met with gleeful giggles and cheers, the three of them immediately going back to the game to secure Crow’s win.

Lilith watches this all mildly, like it’s a show she sees every Saturday afternoon, and this is a rerun. Like this whole weird day is her normal, and it’s a surreal experience that has Ricky wondering if he’s going to wake up in his bed, wondering what this dream was all about.

He has Lilith, _the Lilith_ standing next to him in his house, and all he can do is stare.

Her eyes slide over to him slowly, and the crimson of her magic burns fiercely, “What?”

Ricky only blinks at her, “I just can’t believe your in my house.” He suddenly blurts, staring at her in wide eyed awe, “I mean. You’re Lilith. The battle mage who led the war, you won countless battles in the north. You earned the great dragon’s loyalty by retrieving the pyre axe from the bottom of an active volcano.” Lilith shrugs, like it didn’t mean a thing, and that the monsters were far more important to her.

As her Den mates, they probably where, but _still_.

“They say after the war you and Felix took a sabbatical with your Den before you settled in Ebott. That you went fucking north, and the two of you outran an avalanche on snowboards!” he all but gushes, making the three skeletons suddenly look up surprised with a course of _wait what’s_.

Lilith stares at him, raising a brow, “How do you know that?” her voice is cold again, and her eyes narrow, “ _Why_ do you know that?”

There’s a sudden huff of laughter from Crow as he won the final star, and a groan from Gore, and Ricky shrugs, “It’s on your wiki.” He offers with a grin.

Lilith blinks at him, her expression softening, “I have a wiki?” she almost doesn’t sound like she believes him.

“Well, yeah.” Ricky shrugs, “Lots of people want to know what your like.”

Those cold, crimson eyes blink at him slowly, and Lilith shakes her head again. She looks back to the skeletons, nodding towards the door, “Okay, Crow won, we gotta go.”

There’s grumbles and groans, and one by one they troop from his living room, stuffing their skeletal feet into their shoes as Lilith opens the door to usher them out, “What do you say?”

It’s weird. So, completely, and unbelievably weird that this is happening, and all Ricky can do is blink.

Gore stares blankly up at Lilith, and Ricky can see the gears in his head running before he suddenly brightens up, “Thank you Ricky!”

Gore bounces off before Ricky can say anything resembling your welcome, and he watches the small skeleton practically skip to the jeep. He pulls himself in as Sugar follows along a little slower, smiling shyly at Ricky, “Thank you for your hospitality Ricky.” He pauses, glances up and grins again, “And not murdering us!”

His mouth falls open to say something, but Sugar’s moved on, “Lilith, can we still go to the market? I would like some honey!”

Lilith doesn’t blink, doesn’t look annoyed, and Ricky isn’t sure he’s ever experienced someone so patient before. He certainly wouldn’t have asked his mother to take him to the marketplace after such a colossal mistake.

Lilith shrugs, “Sure. I’m sure Ry won’t mind.”

Sugar nods, and bounces on after his brother, Crow coming up to follow him out. Instead of saying thank you, Crow pulls his hood up against the warm summer sun and looks up at Lilith with that dead eyed expression, “Kid has a shit home life.” Ricky’s eyes go wide, and Lilith raises a brow, “He wants to go to the culinary school.” He moves to follow Sugar and Gore out, calling over his shoulder, “Tell the idiot to apply for the scholarship.”

Ricky’s trapped in open mouthed shock at Crow’s words, his eyes following the skeleton out to the Jeep as he disappeared into it, leaving him alone with Lilith’s cold-eyed assessment. She takes a breath, and tells him, “Apply for the scholarship.” Her expression is cold, her tone icy, and her voice doesn’t thaw.

It makes Ricky flinch a little, even as she turns away and heads back into the brutal summer heat, “Thank you for your help Ricky.” She calls over her shoulder, “We’re in your debt.” She shrugs again, “Apply for the scholarship.”

Ryder hasn’t moved from his guards’ position from the front of the Jeep, not until Lilith has gone all the way around to the driver’s side and pulled herself in. Only then does he move, slipping inside the Jeep.

Watching them go, Ricky waves goodbye, and shakes his head as the Jeep shimmers out of view and they’re gone. It was a weird afternoon; one he’ll take to his grave if he didn’t want to be run out of town. He goes to quietly pack up and put his switch away, back to hide in his room. His mom didn’t like him playing with the switch, she thought it was a childish game. Too girly, and it made Ricky roll his eyes.

He made sure the kitchen was cleaned up and everything put away.

He pretends this never happened, he pretends that he never met three skeletal monsters and spent an afternoon with them. He pretends he never met Lilith up close and personal, or that she threatened to take away his happiness if he hurt the skeletons.

He pretends it never happened.

He _does,_ however, apply for the scholarship.

-

Coming home after school, Ricky sighs and wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s his last day until his first exam, and nearly three weeks since the afternoon that didn’t happen.

Slipping into the house, Ricky flinches downward when he hears his mothers rough cackle, and he tries not to feel his heart plummet. That was never good news, and she sounded like she’d already been into the wine that early into the afternoon.

He lifts his shoulders and sighs, “Hey Mom.” He calls out, and apart of him cringes inwardly, despises that he’s forced to call her that.

She doesn’t say hello as he comes into the kitchen, and sure enough she’s swirling her red wine in her glass, her chin in her manicured hand and lips painted red, “You got another _rejection_ letter today.” She muses allowed, pushing his letter forward with bright red nails, and Ricky feels his heart hurt.

He got _into_ the community college, the one she wanted him to go to, and he’d barely gotten a good job from her. There was no, I’m proud of you, just always distain and regret.

Yet, Ricky frowns when the letter shimmers softly in blue, and he’s certain that his mother didn’t see that.

“Oh.” He tells her, carefully, neutrally, as to not start a fight, “That’s too bad.” And he carefully takes the letter.

His mother laughs a little, taking a mouthful of wine as he takes his letter and slips passed her. Its warm against his skin, practically buzzes in his hand like static electricity, and how his mother didn’t notice, Ricky has no idea.

“Useless.” His mother mutters darkly into her glass, “Just like your father.”

It hurts, to hear that, but Ricky ignores it, and retreats into is room, his letter clenched tightly in his hands. He trembles as he closes the door, and his fingers are numb when he sits in the centre of his bed and opens the plain white envelope, that looks by all accounts, to be a rejection letter.

The paper _package_ that pops out is clearly too large to have fit inside such a small envelope, too thick to have been folded down at all, and made of thick parchment.

It feels old and weathered in his hands, and he’s in awe as he runs his fingers over it. In the centre is a red wax crest of a sword in front of a shield with a thick P in the centre of the sword. There are dragons on either side of the shield, and Ricky swallows hard when he realizes that this is Pandora’s crest.

His fingers tremble as he breaks the seal, and pulls out the papers, and they sparkle in his hands. Like, they actually sparkle in his hands, like glitter or unicorn hair. His breath catches in his throat as he reads the first lines.

_Dear Ricky William,_

_It is with delight and pleasure to inform you of your acceptance into Ebott University in our Culinary Program._

He feels tears fill his eyes and his mouth fall open as he continues to read, his eyes scanning over the letter, taking it all in.

It’s a full ride, a scholarship that would cover his housing too. A food allowance as well, and all he had to do was keep his grades up. Its everything he’s ever wanted.

Its his way out.

Its on the last page that he finds it, the thing that makes the tears overflow his eyes and drip down his chin.

_If at any time you feel as if you are in danger or need assistance in removing yourself from your current situation, please call the following number for assistance._

He stares at the end of the letter, his hands trembling, and he takes that chance. He dials the number and prays this isn’t a joke. Hopes he’s not about to have his heart broken.

The phone rings softly in his ear, once, twice and is picked up on the third ring, “Thank you for calling the Revolut Coven’s scholarship line, this is Tina. Congratulations on your scholarship, please provide me with your ID.”

Rick pauses, and feels his throat go thick. Tina pauses on the other end of the line, and her endless cheer doesn’t waiver, “Oh hun. Its okay, are you calling for transport?”

He nods, and remembers that Tina can’t see him, “Yeah.” He tells her thickly.

“All right hun, its okay. I’m here to help. Just give me your ID number, and I’ll get you all sorted out.” She tells him calmly over the other end of the phone, and he manages to get the numbers from the top of the first page out to her.

“All right hun, you stay on the line with me okay? Just breathe with me and we’ll get you sorted. You’re going to be okay.” He hears typing on the other end, her fingers clicking rapidly over her keyboard and he hears her chuckle softly, “Ah, your one of Pandora’s kids.”

She hums, and again, Ricky nods even though Tina can’t see him, and clings to that fragile hope, “You must have done something wonderful to earn their attention. They’re generous, but its not often they’re _this_ generous.” She tells him softly, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

He pauses, and swallows, “I helped their Den mates.”

He can hear the smile in Tina’s voice, “Ahhh.” She says softly with a pulse of happiness, “That explains it. Hun, you’re in good hands now. Pandora will always do right by those who have shown such a kindness.” 

“Yeah.” He wipes his face, and suddenly, he has hope. He has a future that wasn’t tied to this shitty town, he has a new path, “They’re pretty cool.”

Tina chuckles, “They are. Now hun, will this be a covert removal?”

Ricky chuckles, and swallows hard, “Yeah. That’d be good. My town, kinda sucks.”

Tina laughs, “They usually do hun. But don’t you worry, we have a full unit of mages who work as bounty hunters for the Coven, and moon light as retrieval operatives.” She laughs again, “Lilith will be delighted to know the unit I’ll send after you was a Den she trained herself.”

Because of course it was, and Ricky gives her a watery little laugh.

For the first time in years, Ricky has hope, and he swears he’s going to tell everyone he knows about the afternoon he saved three skeletons from Pandora’s Den.

And he owes it all, to a moment of kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Retrieval Unit snuck into Hollindale to spirit Ricky away to attend Ebott University. He gets the internship in France, and meets his future husband, an Orc named Timber. They adopt two children, and one day Ricky will cater the Mage’s yearly Gala.   
> He will dye his hair a vibrant pink.   
> Ricky lives a long happy life.


	39. Bang, Bang, Bang (Here We Go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has a very bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Alright friends, here we go! This is an arc I have been dying to write for some time, and I'm so happy to get to this point. I want to thank Kate who came up with this plot point in the Discord group, and she was kind enough to allow me to use her wonderful idea in the main story. 
> 
> Thank you so much Kate, I really appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the direction I've taken this arc. 
> 
> We have gotten through the first half of this story, the Crew now know they're Den and we're now into the bonding portion of this story. This will be a rough chapter, and I have updated the tags to reflect the new topic that will be occurring in this chapter. I do not want anyone to be caught off guard, so PLEASE take a moment to read the tags and the Warning in the body of this message. Please make sure you all take care of yourselves and perhaps skip this chapter if its not something you can read. Keep in mind the results of this chapter will have lasting effects on the rest of the story. 
> 
> Lastly, I always right happy endings, so. Hang on to that? 
> 
> As always, thank you all for your continued support and I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> WARNING: AU typical violence, blood/gore, large amount of bodily damage, description of bodily injury, description of soul break/crack, (temporary) major character death, (temporary) death, (permanent) minor character death, description of death and dying, one sided love/obsession. 
> 
> I think that's everything.

If there was one thing that Lilith had promised herself, the moment she had dragged Sans out of the darkness that was the underground and into sunshine, was that he would want for nothing. He had such a hard, _traumatic_ time in the underground, that Lilith was hell bent on ensuring that his time on the surface would be the exact opposite.

Sans, Lilith had sworn, would have a good life. She had the means to provide him with such, not just in terms of money and protection, she had those both in spades, but she gave him everything else, everything she could. She loves him, _deeply_ , more than anyone else in the world and made sure he knew it every day.

She held his hand when they were in public, never shied away from plying him with affection if, and when, he wanted it, and was delighted to in fact. She helped get him into therapy, to help deal with the trauma of the underground, went with him when he asked her too, or picked him up if he wanted to head inside alone.

Lilith took no offence if he wanted to do it on his own, she had simply found a coffee shop near by and waited for Sans to be done and needed picking up. She held him when he was sad and hurting, clung to him as tightly as he hung onto her, and made him feel better.

He did the same for her, of course he did, and Lilith _believed_ that Sans loves her back. Sometimes, especially now that the Crew was with them, she could feel it in his soul song. She could feel it humming softly next to hers, and she went weak in the knees when she caught glimpses of the love he had for her.

She loves Sans, with all her heart.

She loves to see him doing so much better now, loves to see how far he’d come and how hard he worked to get here. He’d struggled so much for so long, and she was so _delighted_ to see Sans where he was now. She was happy to be apart of his journey, and was ecstatic to be apart of his life.

It was her life too, theirs intertwined so tightly now, and she never thought she’d get to this. Never thought she would get to have this, never mind keep this. Not with her LV and the strength of her vice, not when her call sign was Death, and it was still a name she would respond to if called.

Lilith had always thought, long before she followed her sister down the rabbit hole that was the underground, that she would never have something like this. Never would have gotten to keep someone like Sans, someone who was so _good_ in her eyes.

Yet, here she was.

Things changed, but yet not really, when the Crew fell in their laps, and their little family got a little bit bigger. At least, Lilith muses as she soaks in the sunshine, hot over head, they had the same taste in men. It would have made for an awkward conversation if they had each started to fall for a different member of the Crew, and Lilith doesn’t doubt that those feelings would have been shut down immediately from both of them, had that been the case.

Mage’s don’t take issue with having multiple partners, but only if all parties are agreeable to the idea. Sans was very agreeable to the whole thing, and Red at least didn’t reject the idea out right. He’d seemed to be into it, when Sans had brought it up and the question really was how to broach it with Edge.

The line shuffles forward and Lilith shakes the thought away and focuses back in on what was happening around her. She pushes the thought of Edge to the back of her mind, for now, and zones back in to Red and Sans. They’re both just in front of her, their heads together pouring over something on Red’s phone, and he’s pointing at something, his sharp fingertip tapping against the glass.

There’s a slight excited lit to Red’s tone, its so rare, so precious that it makes Sans smile and nod along to whatever Red is saying. It makes Lilith grin too, as small as her smile is, and lets his rough voice roll over her despite not being able to hear what he’s saying. Yet, Sans looks happy and so does Red, and that’s enough for Lilith.

The line shuffles forward, and Lilith lifts her ball cap up to wipe sweat from her brow. The sun is hot by the stadium, and the open square of pavement does nothing to cool the humans and fairy tale folk that shuffle forward in line. She resettles her hat over her head, pulling it down to shield her eyes from the sun and shifts her body weight.

The other night, Red had confessed as they relaxed out on the roof of the compound and getting a little tipsy in the setting sun, that when he had been young, he had found a few old VHS tapes in his world’s trash that had old baseball games on them.

He’d managed to get an old VCR to work, and there were many a night, hidden away in one of Muffet’s gambling houses, that he and his brother had watched those baseball games over and over until the magnetic tape had given out. It had been a secret joy to watch those games when they had been children, safe for a short while, in the blue glow of the television screen, with just he and Edge, curled under a bed to sleep.

He had confessed, all wistful and hopeful, that he had wanted to one day see a real baseball game in person. To see what it was like, to actually _be_ there.

He had been so painfully hopeful, so honest with his words, that Lilith and Sans had to make it come true for him. His jaw had dropped when she had ordered tickets for the nearest game, a simple college match on the out skirts of Ebott. It was a rare thing for _Red_ to even admit he had emotions, to admit that he felt anything beyond anger and the thought of wanting something, was damn near blaspheme.

He never told them when he wanted anything, never was selfish, everything _always_ had to be for Mercy or Edge, and well. Lilith and Sans wanted him to feel special too.

The three of them where in line, slowly shuffling closer to the front, and Lilith could _feel_ Red’s excitement despite how he tried to hide it, as they inched ever closer.

She wanted it to be everything Red hoped it would be, and Lilith hopes Red has fun even if she doesn’t get it. She’s a hockey fan herself, but, eh, it was making Red happy, and that was enough for her.

Sans looks to be as enamoured as her, but not by the prospect of the game but by Red’s honest delight. Or, at least as happy as Red allows himself to show, and it’s the little things that give him away. Its the way his eye lights glow a little brighter, the way he almost smiles, and the way he doesn’t pick at his collar.

It’s the way that he’s speaking a little faster, and the way he bounces on his toes, even with a packed stadium. There are people all around, clustered in close to them, all excited and shuffling towards the same direction. They’re all excited to see the game and once they’ve cleared the gates, they’ll head to the shop to get silly matching t shirts for Red’s favorite team.

Because, if they wanted to court Red too, and they did, they needed him to feel special as well. It couldn’t always be about Edge. Or all about Sans. It was about them.

Red’s not wearing his heavy bulky jacket, but he is pressed in tightly next to Sans, a ready shield to protect him from any threat and they’re both pulled in tight to Lilith. Just in case.

Their shoulders brush as they chatter, telling bad puns and jokes, and Lilith is just settling into the very _normal_ experience with her boyfriend and almost boyfriend, when she feels it.

It starts with the hair on the back of her neck lifting and standing on end, and dread fills her belly. Her palms go cold as if she’s suddenly holding a cube of ice, and her instincts are unexpectedly screaming at her that something’s wrong.

Lilith straightens up, feels her spine go ram rod stiff as her head whips around looking for the threat. Magic comes to her easily, sparking at her fingers and turning her eyes crimson and she looks around the concrete pad that has everyone lining up to get into the stadium. She straightens up like a meerkat searching for danger, and she actively fights to keep a blade from being summoned to her hand even as her fingers itch for one. They seem to crave the feeling of her fingers wrapping around the handle, solid and real, secure. She keeps it back, even though everything in her is demanding that she should be armed.

“You good Evil Mage?” Sans suddenly asks, drawing her crimson eyes and carefully blank expression back to her mate, and she softens a little.

Sans is staring up at her with mild confusion, his brows are furrowed, and his permanent grin seems a little duller. Red is staring up at her too, but gone is the excitement and replaced by his angry neutral and narrowed sockets.

She mourns the loss of his rare enjoyment, when all she wanted was a good day with them, “Yeah. Just got a weird feeling is all.” She glances around and doesn’t bother to play this off as something that its not. She doesn’t lie to them, “Instinct is picking something up.”

Its enough to make Sans stiffen, and she sighs inwardly as the last bit of his joy drains from his expression and Red looks around angrily.

She shakes herself out and tries to relax, “But I don’t see anything.” She looks around again, her ponytail swinging behind her, pulled through the gap at the back of her ball cap.

Red hums nonchalantly, and picks at one of the gold spikes at his collar as his crimson eye lights scan the crowded square. He knows enough about mages, or enough about Lilith at least, to know not to question her instinct.

Sans takes a breath, looks the way opposite to Red to cover more ground, when he suddenly curses, and Lilith feels something bottom out in her stomach. He spins around quickly, looking irritated rather then worried, and he grits his teeth together, “Four O’clock.” He mutters to them, drawing Red’s eye lights back to him, “It’s fucking Akkar.”

Lilith feels her eyes widen a little in shock before embarrassment and anger flood her. With a snarl, she glances in the direction that Sans told her he was in, and everything in her screams to attack when she sees the tall, willowy light elf standing just as shocked and surprised as she is at a distance.

“Who the fuck is that?” Red snarls, and he’s puffing himself up, but the look is a little less without his coat to make up his bulk, he looks sleeker in the hot summer air in only his t shirt.

Everything is in her is screaming to attack, that something is wrong, and she has to fight with herself, with her vice, to keep it contained and remind herself this was Akkar. An elf she went to war with, this man marched beside her in battle, they were comrades. Allies. _Friends._

Sans sneers, “He’s in love with Lilith,” he tells Red, and he bristles, “He tried to break us up by telling Lilith that I wasn’t good enough for her.”

Akkar is still blinking at her from afar, the shock of seeing her waring off, and she can see him swallow hard. There’s a weird air of nervousness around him that puts her on edge, that makes her weary, given the last time she saw him she broke his nose.

That still isn’t enough reason for her instinct to be demanding action, and to be demanding his fucking head.

Peace, Lilith will think back, has made her a little soft. It has made her forget the one rule that all battle mages live by. The cardinal rule of survival.

Never, ever, disregard your instinct.

Red snarls, sockets narrowing as he grimaces darkly as Akkar begins to make his way over to them, “He looks like a fucking dick.” He mutters back to Sans, who nods, looking just as annoyed.

Lilith stays still, calm, and around them the line has come to a stop as people continue to mill around and wait for their turn to be let into the stadium. It gives Akkar a direct line to them, and they have no where to go unless they want to give up their spot in line.

It seems so silly, so stupid to do so. They’d already been in the hot summer sun for so long, and they were so close to the gates now. This was for Red, Lilith reminded herself, they were here doing something nice for Red.

Lilith sighs inwardly and stuffs down all thought, all worry, and narrows her eyes coldly at Akkar as he makes his graceful way over. She shifts, when he gets close, to stand in front of Sans and Red, acting as a guard, to which neither of them are having it, and quickly flank her.

Akkar doesn’t even look at them, his grey eyes are focused on Lilith and only Lilith, and it makes something crawl under her skin. His usually glossy, blonde hair is dull and scraggily, messy and unkept when it was usually pulled into a neat ponytail. He looks paler then usual and there are dark bags under his eyes.

Lilith takes a step back when she sees him, and the unease prickles harder again, instinct demanding action. His eyes are wild and hyper focused on her, and when he speaks it almost comes out in a desperate rush, “Lilith!” he exclaims her name like long lost lovers being reunited and it makes her hackles rise.

Next to her Sans freezes, and his eye lights gutter out as his hands curl into fists. This is going south fast, and Lilith knows if she wants to save the day, do something nice for Red, they need to drop this sack of shit sooner rather then later.

Her tone is cold and clipped, and directly to the point, “What do you want Akkar?”

If Sans is cold as ice, Red is a hot ball of anger at her side, like a fuming cat about to launch itself at something it finds offensive. Lilith keeps her eyes on Akkar, and reminds herself that he is an ally, and he needs help, if his disheveled appearance is anything to go by.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry!” he tells her quickly, spittle flying from his lips in a wild mist that makes them all cringe away, “I should have come to you sooner. I should have been here for you.”

Lilith blinks, and suddenly unease is crawling up her spine like her sins. Something’s wrong here. Something’s not right, and she gives up more ground, pulling Sans and Red back a step.

“What the fuck are you talking about Akkar?” she hisses coldly, not one to entertain this foolishness.

Akkar smiles, “It makes sense. The monster, he’s got you trapped.” Lilith’s eyes narrow and is ready to call Sloan. There was something wrong with him, and Akkar needed help, “But I’m going to help you! You’ll see, once I get you away.”

Lilith is about to tell Akkar he’s an idiot. That Sans doesn’t have her trapped, that she’s chosen to be here with Sans, that she loves Sans, chose him above all others. Chose him over Akkar, would each and every time. She’s going to tell Akkar to fuck off, call Sloan or maybe his sister, when time, seems to slow down.

He continues to ramble that he’s saving Lilith’s life as he summons a shaft of weaponized light from the ground that he puts through her guts. The attack is so fast, so _out of the blue,_ that Lilith freezes. She stills as pain rips through her and she isn’t sure what hits her harder, the shock or betrayal.

She thinks it might be the betrayal from him, a supposed ally, as her body jerks back and blood pours down the front of her white tank top, staining it ruby red and her intestines are caught on the shaft as it pierces through her back. Her guts are ruined, its not the first time this has happened, and she settles into the pain like an old shirt. Her muscles are destroyed, and it’s a bit of a weird nostalgic feeling from the war, but her spine is intact, and she stays on her feet.

Coughing hard, Lilith gasps for air as pain spreads through her belly like wildfire, and she still caught in the stupid shock of it all. Her hands latch onto and burn around the light magic that keeps her _pinned_ to the ground. Her blood hits the concrete in fat, wet drops, sizzles when it hits the shaft of light that pierces her body, and her healing trait is desperate to put her back together as it struggles around the shaft of light. Sans and Red have backed off, shortcutted back to put distance between Akkar and themselves, and their expressions thunder with fury. Around them people are screaming, people are running, and her mates are holding their ground.

There’s a brief rush of pride, because that was Sans and Red, and her hazy, stunned mind calls them both her mates.

Anger comes next, she feels it rush through her in this weird slowmo world she now lives in, but the emotion is short lived. Horror hit her next, but its not for herself, she’s never terrified for her own well being, and her fear always comes for Sans.

From his ratty, dirty bag, Akkar has pulled out two jars and Lilith feels her eyes go wide with sheer dread and she struggles harder. She feels her stomach tare as she struggles to pull herself off the shaft of light, to get to Sans and Red, and she screams for them to run. To get away, to shortcut, _anything._

She can’t trace, can’t escape something that has her physically pinned, and Akkar slowly turns towards her mate and almost mate. Everything in her is screaming to get to them, and around them, spectators of the game go running. Some are screaming, but Sans and Red aren’t moving. No, instead, to Lilith’s newly found horror, they’re standing their ground.

They’re angry, and magic sparks at their fingers in a kaleidoscope of threatening colours. Behind them, the snapping jaws of blasters snarl and hiss with magic, the creatures that have been ripped from the void have maws of burning magic that neither Sans nor Red would hesitate to use.

Its not them that Lilith is staring at, its not them that Lilith is focused on as she struggles. She struggles so hard that her body tares, and her muscles give, as she pulls herself off that shaft of light, and she focuses on the jars in Akkar’s hands.

She recognizes portable spells from anywhere, has seen them enough from Sloan and the war to know that what’s in those jars were spells. She knows that there’s enough mages that are selling on the black market, that they’ll never know where he got them from, but that’s not what has her panicked. Portable spells were common, used readily in just about every aspect of mage life.

Its what was in those jars that made her gullet rise with her panic, and pushes her to fight hard to get to Sans and Red.

Those silvery pink, swirling spells were full of death, portable weapons of destruction. _Soul breakers_. A spell so powerful, so vicious that the attack would go directly to the soul of a mage to damage it. Damaging the soul is the quickest way to kill a battle mage, and its a spell that is so _rarely_ used even in war due to its destructive force. The spell would overload a soul and cause it to crack open, and it caused it to shatter.

If it didn’t kill you out right, it would crack the souls of powerful mages so they would hemorrhage magic until there was nothing left to give. No healing trait to put you back together, no offensive magic, no defensive magic and you succumbed to fucking blood loss.

Sans and Red wouldn’t survive the attack, and they have no idea what’s about to hit them. They have no idea what’s about to happen. All around her is pandemonium, chaos as people flee and scream, but she hears none of this. She only has eyes for Sans and Red as Akkar steps towards them, a silvery pink spell of death looking innocent in a jar, is lifted overhead, and Lilith is screaming for them to run.

Her voice is lost to the overwhelming noise around her, lost to the panic that they’re too far away and all that is left is one option. The only thing she can do as Akkar moves to throw the jar at them, the only thing she is capable of in her panicked, trapped state, and she rips herself fully off the shaft of light that tares through the ground.

Her healing trait is already putting her side back together, trying to tuck her entrails back into place in a desperate bid to save her body as she _runs._

Memories, unhelpful and intrusive spur her on, as hot blood pours down her side, as her body tries to knit itself back together, and she knows what’s about to happen. Knows what she needs to do, to save them. Accepts, what’s about to happen.

She just wanted a day with Sans. She wanted to show Red a good time.

Her sneakered feet hit the pavement in an easy rhythm, and she thinks about the first time she met Sans.

She remembers how tired he was the first time she came out of the Ruins; she remembers how despite it all, Sans did his best for her sister. He tried so hard for Frisk.

She runs faster, even though it feels like she’s running through mud.

She remembers how they fought, that first day when he panicked at her LV, and she remembers the feeling of him limp in her arms as she carried him to Snowdin. She remembers the puns when she fell on the ice.

She pushes harder even as black spots blink in her vision, and she’s desperate to get to them.

She remembers napping on the couch with Sans the first time she saw what Chara was doing to his mental state, how small and hurt he seemed. She remembers drinking tea in his kitchen and fighting with Sloan to stop Chara. She remembers fighting with Undyne and how Sans backed _her_.

She remembers how Undyne almost killed her and Sans smuggled her into the Snowdin Inn to keep her safe so she could heal. She remembers how she almost kissed him then, in her hazy, blood loss state, and how he held her through out the night to keep her warm.

Her determination keeps her on her feet and with a burst of magic, her body pulls itself back together in a painful rush.

She remembers their first kiss, she remembers what Flowey and Oliva did to him and how broken he was by it, but he didn’t give up.

She remembers when she knew she loved him when she fell into the void, she remembers getting him back and remembers their first official kiss in his bedroom when they found his HP had risen.

She remembers seeing the stars with him the first time and remembers hunting zombies in a graveyard. She remembers how he told an ancient eldritch horror knock-knock jokes to keep the fog from coming into their house.

She remembers their first winter and getting her brother back in a snowball fight. She remembers his first heat and how afraid he had been, but he trusted her. She remembers their first Christmas, and Halloween.

Lilith remembers that she loves Sans, with all her heart.

Her vice is ripped from its box so thoroughly, so brutally it hurts. It hurts how blood is stuck to her skin, sticky and coppery, hurts how her eyes turn black as she forces herself between Akkar and Sans. It hurts when she shoves them behind her, her healed wound still pulling, taunt in its newness but everything is ignored as she gets between the falling jar filled with a sparkling, deceptively pretty spell and the two skeletons that were so important.

She loves Sans, and she isn’t going to let this fucker kill him.

There’s no time to defend. No time, as time speeds up, seems to catch up so suddenly, to catch the spell. There’s no time to trace Sans and Red away. No time for armor, and Lilith closes her eyes as she slides between Sans and Red, and the jar that is falling from Akkar’s hand.

She takes a breath, and pulls Red and Sans behind her fully with enough force that they trip over their own feet, acting as a shield as the glass shatters against the concrete of the square. She can hear them screaming, can hear them telling her to get out of the way, but its too late.

The light that explodes outward is hot, burning her to her core and Lilith doesn’t remember a time that she’d ever been in so much pain. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire as the pinkish light burns through her, she feels her body jerk backwards, and feels her ribs give from the aftershock as if she had been punched by an ice giant.

She feels the one side of her rib cage give, feels something sharp pierce a lung and can taste blood on the back of her tongue. It’s familiar pain, at least. It’s like war, and the familiar feeling of it keeps her on her feet.

The pain of her soul cracking is new.

Its unbelievable pain, indescribable as she suddenly starts to hemorrhage magic, and as the light of the spell fades away, Lilith sways on her feet. She wonders how Sans dragged himself through the underground with a massive crack in his soul. There’s a weird burst of pride, because of course he did. Her babe is tough as fuck, and if anyone could have fought Chara with a damaged soul and in this much pain, it was Sans.

She sways on her feet, barely upright and the crimson drains from her eyes. There’s no green magic to pull her ribs from her lung, and she makes a sickly rasp with every painful breath. Her soul trembles and calls to its mate for a desperate need for reassurance.

Lilith can feel Sans’s horror in his soul song as it sings back to hers, can feel his fear and hurt. She can feel his upset.

Darkness is crowding in her vision and it’s getting harder to focus. It’s getting harder to see, and she can’t feel her magic. Not really, not with how quickly she’s bleeding out magic, and she can’t feel her hands.

“Lilith?” Sans sounds horrified, hurt, and desperate. She can’t look at him, she can’t see him and do what needs doing. Lilith can’t look at Red either, but she can feel his horror too. She can feel his distress and panic. She can feel his self loathing in his soul song, and Lilith wants to comfort him even as blood froths at her mouth.

She can’t look at either of them.

“I love you.” Lilith mutters softly, and she wishes she could have done more. Wishes she could have had more time, and Lilith wishes this could have been different. She wishes Frisk were here to have a second chance.

She wishes she could have told Sans she loved him more. She wishes she could have kissed Red. Edge too. Can’t forget about him, he’s important too.

Lilith doesn’t think too much on it, she doesn’t have the time when she knows what needs to happen, and she isn’t the one to shy away from the hard work.

Akkar is looking horrified at what he’s done to her, when he’d been so prepared to do it to Sans. He looks afraid, of her or for her, Lilith isn’t sure, but he still has a second jar, and battle mages don’t leave threats behind.

Lilith takes a breath, hears Sans take his own to steady himself, hears Red yelling at her to stop, and she drags every last drop of determination she has left to her core. She swallows the scream as she summons a sword, and it burns as she draws the last of her magic to her hand, like her mana lines are collapsing in on themselves and it feels like acid scalds her skin.

The sword however, regardless of the feeling of razor wire being dragged through her veins, is oddly comforting in her hand. It’s the last thing she’ll likely feel, like a comfort blanket and the leather of the hilt is rough in her hand, its an old feeling and she always knew she would die with her sword.

She just never expected it to be in the services of her mates.

Lilith charges forward with the last of her waning energy, with the last of her magic, and pain sings through her as she grasps Akkar’s shoulder and rams the blade of her sword all the way through his belly, paying him back in kind. Her sword cuts through him, all the way up to the guard, and he gasps and chokes on his breath.

 _Good_ , Lilith thinks bitterly, _choke on it._

The jar falls, it slips from his hand, like its in slow motion and Lilith feels _nothing._

Behind her Sans is screaming, but she can’t hear what he’s saying as the jar shatters against the pavement between their feet, and his voice is drowned out by the roar of magic that is absorbed by her and Akkar.

The shockwave knocks her off her feet, slams her backwards into the ground and blood bursts from her mouth. She feels something snap in her spine, feels cold sink its tendrils into her body, and there’s no magic to heal her from the inside. There’s no warm magic knitting her back together, nothing to breathe life back into her broken body.

She feels her soul cling desperately to life and can feel it cracking apart as the magic tares her to shreds. Her determination _tries_ to keep her alive, even as she leaks magic like blood, and it stains the ground at her back with gore.

She’s cold and numb, and when she tries to move, she can’t. Its like her body is broken as it clings desperately to life, desperately tries to keep her soul together. She can’t move beyond tilting her head so that the side of her face sits in a small pool of her own blood, and it leaks down from her mouth and ears. It clots in her hair and cools against her skin as the smell of copper fills the air.

She can barely breathe, it gets harder with every painful breath and when she chokes, she can taste frothy copper on the back of her tongue. Yet, she manages a grin when she sees Akkar’s lifeless body and at least she took him down with her. She relaxes into the ground, and darkness is creeping into her vision as her body gives out and gives in.

Her breathing is getting shallow and painful, and darkness is clouding in at the corners of her vision. Her body goes numb, and the pain fades, but no warmth or pleasure replaces it.

Sans is suddenly by her side, skidding to a stop on his knees, and even dying she winces, knows that would have had to hurt. He’s looking over her in horror, doesn’t know where to start, and Lilith feels bad at the distress in his expression. She doesn’t like the hurt she knows she put there.

His sockets are wide and panicked, his eye lights are pulled into pinpricks, and fuck, at least she got to see him one last time.

“No.” Sans whispers brokenly, tears slipping free of his sockets to stream helplessly down his face, “No, Lilith I.” he pauses, and looks horrified to her bloody and broken face. To the blood that streams down from her ears and he gently lays a hand over her shattered ribs.

Red drops to his knees across from him, on her other side, shocked and horrified, and quietly takes her hand. Lilith curls her fingers around his claws, barely hanging on. Its as tight as she can hold him and its so painfully light.

“Why?” Sans’s voice creeks as he weakly takes her other hand, and their bones are so warm against her skin.

She smiles up at him, tries to, and it sends another grisly cascade of blood down her chin, “Sorry.” She managed to wheeze, and her lungs throb as one fills with blood. It’s just…everywhere.

Sans sobs, lifts a shaky hand to his cheek, and presses her cooling hand to his face, smearing her blood across his ivory bones and she can’t look away, “We. Its okay. We’ll get you home. We’ll.” He’s panicked and afraid, “I’ll take you home. Lola will save you. We.”

Lilith wishes, desperately, she could have done more to comfort him. But she can’t. She can’t get her body to move, she can’t get anything to work and she has no magic left to give. She won’t make the short cut, even if Sans won’t admit it.

She wishes she could have said something to Red.

“I love you Sans.” She whispers but can’t hear what he says back.

She’s suddenly falling backwards, like being pulled into cold water and the icy fingers of death are dragging her down, down, down.

She wishes she had more time.

She wishes she could hold Sans one more time, before Lilith knows no more. Knows no pain or suffering or love.

The light begins to fade from her eyes, as the darkness creeps into the globes and the life is gone. Red can only watch on limply and in shock as Sans crumples with a sob over Lilith, his thin hand clenching at the ruined, bloody remains of her shirt as her body shutters out its last breath.

Its like a physical blow to Red when her chest doesn’t rise again, and her eyes go glossy and wide, unseeing into the hot summer air around them. He can’t let go of her hand, can’t seem to get his hands to work, as Sans sobs into her chest.

There are things to do, and he should call someone. Anyone, but probably Nightmare, he would know what to do, would be calm about everything but he can’t move. He can’t get passed his own horror, that Lilith was dead and gone, and he can’t get passed Sans’s grief.

“Please.” Sans sobs out in a choking, gasping voice, his hands gripping impossibly hard on her limp, lifeless body, “Please don’t leave me.”

For once, Lilith doesn’t answer.

“Please. Come back.” He begs, desperate and heartbroken into the empty courtyard and cement pad, and the empty vessel that used to be Lilith, doesn’t answer him. “Don’t leave me.”

Everyone had abandoned them as soon as the fight started, leaving them all alone. Red lowers his head, and quietly blames himself. This was his fault, his stupid idea to see a baseball game.

It was always his fucking fault. This is why he couldn’t have nice things, he killed everything he touched. He won’t keep Sans after this, he can’t. There’s no way that Sans would want him now anyways.

“Come back.” Sans sobs again, his voice brittle as he chokes on his heart break. “Come back.”

There’s nothing Red can do to make this better, nothing is going to bring Lilith back and all he can do now is stew in his failure and taste the bitter ash of their happiness on his tongue.

“Please don’t leave me Lilith.” He begs into the hot summer air, his soul screaming for help, for Lilith to answer him.

Only this time, no body came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. That happened. :)


	40. To Meet Your Name Sake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a plan. If its a good plan or a bad plan, really does depend on your point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> It's....well it's almost Friday and honestly, close enough. Early Christmas gift to all my lovely readers after what I put you all through last week. So my friends, there have been some tears, (I sorry) but fear not! Thinks will get better. Eventually. Before getting arguable worse. Maybe. 
> 
> I'm sure it will be fine. Trust me! 
> 
> In all seriousness, I really like this chapter, and I think you'll all like it too. It was a joy to write.
> 
> I once again am delighted to thank Kate for this amazing plot idea that she was kind enough to share with me and in turn allowed me to share with you. <3 
> 
> Thank you all for your on going support and sticking with me up until this point, it means so much to me, it really does :D 
> 
> As always, please take a moment to read the warnings, this won't be as hard as last weeks chapter, but there's still some ouchy here. 
> 
> Thank you all!
> 
> WARNINGS: description of wounds being healed, blood, gore, rough healing, losing limb, description of a soul crack, death, near death experience. Let me know if I have missed anything.

Sans can’t think passed his own grief, he can’t see anything beyond the cold, grey nothingness that is life on the surface without Lilith. There’s no point to it without her, and he feels hollow and hurt, like his soul has been emptied of all joy.

All his happiness was gone, and heartbreak chokes him, and he can’t describe the feeling of hopelessness that swallows his soul. It’s like when his soul was cracked that first time underground, after what Oliva had done to him, and pain swallowed his entire being. Its like that, only this hurts more.

He loves her, so much, and now she’s gone.

Lilith is dead and gone, her body is cooling under his hands and her brown eyes are glossy and blank, staring sightless into the sunny, mocking sky. Her mouth is parted in a silent gasp of air, and Sans sobs harder, and tries not to think about how sweet her smile had been, and how wonderful her kisses.

He tries not to think about how her presents warmed him, that Lilith was safety and love, and heart break swells in his soul. It chokes him, puts a wedge in his throat so he can’t call for help and he sobs harder into her shattered ribcage. His face is wet with hot tears and her blood, and he can’t breathe. He can’t . He can’t, he can’t, _he can’t._

He’s useless to Red, can’t shake Red out of the shock when Sans is trapped in his own whirl wind of grief. Sans can’t get passed his heartache or the overwhelming _loss_.

He can’t believe that Lilith is gone. That he lost her, and he’d never get to see her smile again. He’s never going to hold her hand again, and feel her warm skin against his bones, he’s never going to get to hear her say _I love you_ again.

“Sans.” Red’s voice is surprisingly steady when he lays a skeletal hand over his shoulder, but Sans’s can’t lift his skull to look at him. “Sans we have to go.” His voice is flat and dead, colder then Sans had ever heard it before, as Red’s swallowed by his own grief.

Sans can’t move. He can’t feel his fingers and its like he has had an out of body experience, and he can hardly breathe, never mind getting words passed the wedge in his throat.

“We have to take her home.” Red rasped, his voice empty and painfully dead, and Sans feels his heart squeeze. Lilith was gone, and Sans had to take her home. He had to tell her brothers and sisters that he let her down, that he let her die.

Sans’s head spins, and his skull aches behind his sockets. He sobs hard, broken and in agony, and squeezes at his mates’ body. He’ll never talk to her again, he’ll never see her smile again, and he’ll never get to see her soul again.

Sans freezes, his breath catches in his throat as a thought, a stupid, half assed thought popped into his mind. Lilith was a mage, but part of her was still human, and human souls were weird little things.

Human souls _lingered._ They stuck around, and Lilith was filled with determination. She was a creature of concentrated will and fury, she wouldn’t go into that sweet good night without a fight. She wouldn’t leave him so easily, and knowing his girl, his Evil Mage, whatever was left of her was clinging desperately to life.

He shoves himself up, away from her body, wide eyed with panic and horror and he stares at her broken body. Her shattered ribcage was collapsed painfully into her lungs, and grief swelled in his chest and it choked him.

He pressed on, shoved his agony down, his despair and bitterness. He doesn’t think how all of this is unfair, that he had to lose his love and for what? One man’s jealousy?

No, Sans refused. He wouldn’t accept that, and fuck anyone who would try to take his happiness from him.

“Sans, we…” Red pauses, watches as Sans reaches for Lilith’s chest, his brow furrows as Sans lays his hands flat over her broken body, “What are you doing?”

Sans doesn’t answer him, doesn’t even acknowledge that Red has said anything, he’s so focused on pulling Lilith back from the brink, and he pulls her soul as hard as he can. At first nothing happens, and only cold, dead air sits between his hands. He refuses to give in, he refuses to believe that she was really gone, and he pulls harder on where her soul should be.

It couldn’t have shattered, couldn’t have. Lilith wouldn’t leave him, and he’s desperate to cling to that hope.

“Sans.” Red sounds angry, angry at him no doubt, or at least looking for someone to blame but Sans ignores him as tears fall heavily down his cheeks.

He pulls harder, pulls on her soul for all his worth, and when its torn free from her body, Sans nearly falls back as if her body lets it go with the same force it clung on to it. Her body is desperate to keep it close, desperate to cling to life, and pulling her soul out is like pulling an organ that’s stubbornly holding on.

Seeing her soul sends a fresh cascade of tears down Sans’s face as heartbreak makes his breathing stutter. Her soul is barely holding itself together, riddled with cracks, like a window that’s been hit with a baseball. In the centre of her dull, cold soul, there’s a _chunk_ missing, from which the thick, deep spider web like cracks spreads outward. More chunks are shattering off and turning to dust at the edges of her soul, giving it a pockmarked, dimpled look when it was once smooth and glossy.

Her usually lush, vibrant soul is dull and dying, more murky brown then lively crimson as her magic is hemorrhaging from it like water leaking out of a bucket with a hole. Its so cold, so unbelievably cold, and she feels like death.

Red snarls with true anger, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Taking a breath, Sans uses his t shirt to dry his face. His shirt is stained by Lilith’s blood, its splattered across the soft white material, and when he only smears blood across his ivory bones, he miserably gives up.

He can’t stop crying, can’t stop grief from squeezing his soul like a vice, but he needs to, for Lilith, and he clears his throat, “I need you to take us home Red.” He tells him weakly, his voice creaking as he cradles Lilith’s delicate, breaking soul in his hands. Its like he’s trying to hold her together, and her soul pulses weakly against the bones of his hands.

What little magic she has, clings to the magic of his bones, reaching to him, clinging on to his hands with little fila and her soul glows ever so slightly brighter at the points that Sans touches her. He can feel her soul, desperate for magic, her weak soul song is screaming in agony, and Sans feels his breathing hitch.

Lilith was still there, a little, clinging desperately to life, fighting for it but she’s fading hard. Her soul is desperate for magic, clinging to what little it can gather from his fingers, but she’s losing far more then she’s soaking in.

It’s okay, he’s about to give her much, much more. He’s got a deep well of magic, old, and powerful enough to jump start that powerful healing trait and drag her back from the brink. He’ll drag her back from death if he has too.

He doesn’t focus on anything else, can’t, not right now, and he pulls his soul out in an almost desperate grasp. His hands tremble, and his soul shivers at the openness around them, and he can hear Red hiss, “What the fuck are you doing!”

The anger is something so real that Sans can nearly taste it, but he can’t deal with Red right now, he can’t. He doesn’t have it in him to manage Red’s emotions when he’s holding Lilith’s shattering soul like he’s the only thing holding her together.

So he does the next best thing, and gives Red something to do, “Red.” He’s oddly calm despite the tears that won’t sop falling, and the only thing that is fighting back the panic is that he literally has Lilith’s life in his hands, “I need you to take us home.”

Sans wonders if he’s in shock, like this is an out of body experience, and he’s watching someone else hold the love of their life’ soul in their hands, and its not him. Yet, it is, and Lilith needs Sans to get his shit together.

He presses his soul, with the wide, crimson scar that slashed through his silvery blue inverted heart, into Lilith’s dying soul. He shivers, a full body tremble, when his warm soul, so full of life _~~and magic that she gave to him to heal his cracked soul~~_ is pressed into Lilith’s ice-cold heart. Its like his soul has been dropped into an ice bath, and it takes his breath away.

He pushes through it, he can feel Red’s sockets burning against his bones, but he ignores it. Right now, Lilith is what matters, and he starts to push magic from his soul to hers; Lilith’s dim heart clings to his, all sharp edges, and those little fila try to bury themselves into Sans’s soul. It’s like she’s trying to draw out every drop of magic from his body.

He remembers, from their healing sessions, that he’s supposed to be slow and careful. Like dripping drops of magic into her soul, gradual and delicate, no different then feeding a baby bird.

Yet, this was different. This wasn’t a careful caring of her soul to heal it, this was a _desperate_ bid to rip her back from death’s icy grip. It’s a Hail Mary Pass, and instead of careful and slow, Sans opens up the flood gates and drowns her soul in his magic. His magic overflows hers, and her shattered, broken soul, sucks it all back like a dying plant in the desert that’s just been watered.

There’s no magic from her soul, no healing trait that’d drag her back from the grave, and Sans pushes more magic into her as hard as he could. He’d drain himself dry if he had too, if it meant saving Lilith, and well….if he went down with her…

He pushes the thought away and shoves more magic into her soul. It fills the spider web cracks of her heart with his blue magic, his virtue of patience soothing the breaks. Its smooths the cracks and draws out her determination, “Come on Lilith, fight.” He whispers, when nothing happens, but her soul is dragging his magic into her core as hard as he’s giving it, desperate and needy.

“Wake up.” He hissed, pouring more and more magic into her, “Come back to me.”

His voice, weak and small, is what wakes Red up, shakes him from his stunned, shocked state. He can’t fucking believe what he’s seeing, can’t believe that Sans has his fucking soul out in the open after they were attacked. He can hear the sounds of sirens coming, and they know its time to get the fuck outta dodge. Lilith doesn’t need her fucking legacy to be tarnished with fucking photos of her dead body slapped all over the internet.

Red’s hands are steady as he grasps at Lilith’s cold, pale arm and wraps his hand around Sans’s upper arm, ripping open a door to the void, and dragging them home. He hates how limp Lilith is, how cold she is. He hates how Sans’s trembles, and how he pours all his magic into Lilith’s listless, empty shell of a body.

He drags them home, its desperate and quick, and Red is surprisingly smooth with them. Lilith’s soul is too delicate, and Sans just has his out there. Just, out in the open, like an idiot, and Red won’t risk their souls shattering by being a dick and being too rough with them.

He puts them in the infirmary, it’s the only place that makes sense if there’s even a hope to save Lilith. Red isn’t sure if there is, or if Sans is just slowly bleeding himself dry for the sake of some misguided hope.

They land hard, harder then Red meant, on the stiff infirmary bed, and Sans is still pouring magic into her cracking, weakening soul with a desperation Red hadn’t seen since the underground. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance up when Red gets them home, solely focused on Lilith.

It’s a fool’s errand, Red thinks but he doesn’t have it in him to tell Sans to stop. That this isn’t going to work, you can’t just keep shoving magic into the other and Lilith is going to be fine.

“Go get Lola.” Sans tells him, dizzy and small as he sways, and Red only hesitates for a moment before he’s gone between one blink and another, leaving Sans alone.

He keeps pouring magic into Lilith, wave after painful wave until her soul song is drowned out with the patience of his own song, soothed and eased, and Sans gives her everything he’s got. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give up even as his head spins and he loses track of time. He has no idea how long Red’s been gone.

It’s getting harder to breathe and exhaustion is overwhelming him. Black spots dance in his vision, but still, he pours everything he is into Lilith’s soul.

It hurt, the more magic he gives, and he knows he’s dipping into dangerously low levels when he can taste something ashy on the back of his tongue before he loses his ability to summon the limb. Still, he gives more, until Lilith’s soul, starving and dying, practically glowing with his blue magic, touches the core of his own soul.

It’s his centre, his most powerful, potent magic and the very thing that makes him, _Sans_. It’s all he has left, and for a brief moment, he hesitates. Everything else to this point can be recuperated, everything else will come back with rest and food.

Core magic, might not. Theoretically, he could recover it, with enough rest and TLC, but he’s more likely to dust before he can. His body is made up of magic, and without it there’s nothing left to hold him together.

He looks at Lilith’s face, far too pale and her glossy eyes. He can’t see her silvery freckles anymore, and her hair looks dull and as dead as her body. His expression crumples, and Sans reaches out to cup her cheek, “Please.” He quietly begs, though he has no idea who he’s begging for help, and Sans gives her just a little of his core magic.

The effect is nearly instant, for them both.

He laughs, a little hysterically, as her soul greedily sucks back the core magic, drags it into the core of her own soul and green magic suddenly shimmers over her. It’s bright and vibrant with a desperate need to bring her body back from the dead, and it helps stitch her soul back together.

The blue of his magic is knitted into the holes and cracks of her soul, no different then when she knit his own soul back together after what happened underground. It was much faster, an impossible, dangerous rate, but it was the risk to save her life.

Her soul gleams brightly suddenly, with just a little core magic, her soul is able to power itself. It gleams a little duller then normal, but no different then if she were exhausted after days of fighting in the war. Her soul is red and blue, glossy and looking healthier, misting purple where their magic joined, and Sans nearly sobbed.

Mages were different then monsters, they didn’t need magic to live, and even that little sliver of core magic is enough to keep her going. To get her going, and her healing trait suddenly _awakens_.

Sans isn’t sure he’s ever felt such joy, such true happiness and delight as Lilith shimmers in green magic, and her body begins to knit itself back together. Her ribs are popped out one by one and painfully shoved back into place, and Sans can see her bones shifting under her skin. Her collapsed lung is re-inflated, and her body absorbs the blood pooling in her bronchus.

Sans cries when she takes a weak, choppy breath even though her lungs crackle and wheeze wetly. She still hasn’t blinked or moved, but she’s fucking breathing, and that’s all Sans cares about. Her healing trait is back online, and her soul is getting brighter.

Lilith, will live.

Sans begins to sway, feeling sick and weak without all of his core magic to keep him going. He’s given too much and it’s getting harder to see as black spots dance in his vision.

“Sans.” Red’s carefully blank voice draws his dimming sight from Lilith, to Red’s horrified face. He’s looking down at something, shocked and angry, but Sans can’t find it in him to care. “What did you do?”

Sans smiles, and tastes dust, “I saved her.” He wheezes, and sways as his eye lights gutter out when he can’t keep them lit up anymore, “Lilith’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna live.”

Lola is suddenly behind Red, skidding to a stop. She gasps in horror, her hands going to her mouth to hide her pain and her eyes are wide.

“What did you do Sans?” Red hisses, and this time Sans can hear the anger. Grins at it because it didn’t matter. He saved Lilith, and she was going to live.

“I gave her a little bit of core magic.” He slurs, “I jump started her healing trait.” Words are getting harder to form, but he’s filled with righteous love. He knows he did the right thing, the thing Lilith would have done for him.

“You what?” Red hisses, and Sans grins dopy and tired at him.

“Don’t be mad.” He slurs again, and his vision is going dim around the edges. When he swallows, he tastes dust, and he can’t figure out where it’s coming from. His head swims, and he wonders why he can taste something ashy in his throat. Wonders if he can even taste it, or if it’s simply memory when he feels something like fine dirt stuck wetly against his bones.

“Red.” Sans sways, trying to stay up right, and when he looks at his hands, his right one is gone completely, disappeared in a cloud of dust. Sans feels a little high, and he can’t help the giggle, “Oh.”

Red is there when he falls off Lilith’s bed, catching him before he hits the ground, and easing him down. There’s horror in his expression, as more silvery dust lifts from his bones, and Sans is in awe that none of this hurt. It should hurt, he thinks. He remembers.

He remembers dying hurt, with a knife slashing through his ribs or something far worse. This is almost easy. He’s cold and tired, his body numb, but Lilith is breathing and that’s all that matters. His head spins, and he’s having a hard time remembering what was happening. Why was he on the floor again?

Lilith. Right! Lilith was okay, and that’s what mattered.

He gives Red a dazed smile, feeling oddly good, numb and he’s not cold anymore. His body feels tingly, and surprisingly _good_ despite how his mouth felt stuffed with cotton, “Take care of Lilith, kay?”

“What?” Red rasps, and around him Sans can see movement, but he can’t see who it is around them, and his vision starts to go dim and dark. The color bleeds from his sight and everything goes dark.

Sans goes limp in Red’s arms, and is far too still and lifeless, and Red knows the feeling of helplessness intimately as emotion wedges in his throat. Hurt and fury mingle in his soul, agony sings through him at the unfairness of it all. ~~~~

_~~It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!~~ _

_~~This is why you don’t get attached, this is why you don’t care about other people, it hurts when you lose them.~~ _

He knows there’s not much hope for Sans now, not when he’s given away core magic.

Lilith is breathing on the bed, slow and deep, and her rattling lungs are slowly clearing. When he hears her breathing, he wants to be overjoyed and happy, but he only feels numb and detached.

Sans is too loose, his body frighteningly lifeless and Red doesn’t fight Glass when he lifts Sans from his arms. Red can only sit limply against the side of the bed, stunned and cold, covered in Sans’s dust and Lilith’s blood.

He wills her to keep breathing as he sits there, horrified and weirdly detached, and can only hope that this isn’t a waste of Sans’s sacrifice.

-

Lilith wakes up on a hard, stone like floor. Its inky black but feels like nothing. There’s no pain here, no fear, for a moment at least, its not hot nor cold. It just is.

With a sigh, Lilith blinks open her eyes, seeing dark, inky blackness all around her, as far as she could see. Taking a deep breath, she pushes herself up off the ground, and she frows as she looked around. She feels oddly tired, but not sore and she has no idea where she is.

Her lips purse as she glances around the dark, foggy room…she thinks it’s a room at least. Looking down at herself, Lilith presses her hands desperately against her ribs, looking for injury, and finding none, but is confused when she looked for an injury at all. She doesn’t remember being hurt, or fighting for that matter.

She…doesn’t remember much at all, and there’s a swell of panic that’s quickly shoved down. Her brow furrows, and Lilith stretches out her arms as if she’s expecting to find injury or blood, but her pale arms are smooth but scared. Nothing unusual, just. Her.

“Where the fuck am I?” she asked aloud, her voice echoed weirdly around her, like she’s in an echo chamber, and she struggles to think what was happening before this point.

What was she doing? Who was she with? Her memories of the day are weirdly jumbled, and fuzzy. Wasn’t she out with Sans and Red? That felt right, but what happened?

Pressing her hand to her mouth, she taps her fingers against her lips before it all comes rushing back to her. Panic slams into her, nearly making her heart stop and tears fill her eyes as her memory is jump started.

“Sans!” Lilith blurted out his name in sheer, gut wrenching panic as she scrambles to her feet. She spins in place, but nothing but darkness surrounds her. Panic floods her soul, hurts her, when she can’t find him. “Sans!” she calls for him again, and tears flood her eyes.

She can’t find him, and she doesn’t know where she is. She isn’t afraid for herself, but she’s afraid for Sans. Her mate, her lover, _her_ monster. She swore that she would always protect him, take care of him, and where the fuck was she now?

The rest of her memories hit her, that only doubled in her panic that _Red_ was with them. Her eyes went wide, and she spins again, looking for anything that would be a way out. She had to make sure they were okay, that they were alive, and she has no idea what happened with Akkar.

“Red!” she yelled out into the darkness, into the weird empty blankness, “Sans!” she yells again, and she’s not ashamed to admit the tears in her eyes. “ _Sans!_ ” she howled into the darkness.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t here in time to be with you when you woke up.” A polite, sweet voice tells her from behind, one that’s painfully familiar. One that sounds like Sans.

Lilith spins, desperate to find her mate, and her breathing hitches when she sees Reaper smiling back at her politely. Its only now that Lilith can hear the familiarity in Reaper’s voice, how much he sounds like Sans and it makes something painful pang in her soul.

A tear slips down her cheek when its not him, and she quickly wipes at her face to brush away the tears, blinking them away. Lilith takes a shuttering breath, “Reaper.” She addresses him coldly, is quick to tamp down on her emotions and reminds herself this isn’t Sans, and he winces a little, “Where am I?”

He tilts his head, and gives her a soft, distressed look, “Lilith.” He tells her painfully, “Where do you think you are?”

She blinks at him, trying to get her foggy brain into high gear, and he blinks at her expectedly, before it finally clicks in her head where she is and who she’s with, “Of fuck, I’m dead.”

Reaper winces, and nods, “Well, almost.” He tells her softly, and it earns a frown from Lilith.

She can feel the panic fading and anger rising. Not at Reaper, not even at herself, but born of fear, “Are Sans and Red okay?” she hisses, her tone like acid as her eyes narrow and her hands ball into fists.

Anger was easier to cling to and forget about the fear that’s trying to choke her.

Reaper seems to be sitting on nothing, his knees pulled up like he’s in a chair, like a prim and proper version of her mate, and he has his hands politely in his lap. He tilts his head and offers her a crooked grin that makes her heart hurt with how much that it is _Sans’s_ smile, “You’re very sweet Lilith.” Her eyes narrow on him, but when she reaches for her magic, nothing comes to her fingers.

Reaper gives her another gentle smile and straightens, holding his hands up in surrender, “I mean no offence.” He tells her quickly, “I just meant that you care so deeply for Sans and Red, that even in death you worried for them first and foremost.”

Lilith says nothing to him, is a solid wall of anger that is barely hiding her terror. Reaper isn’t even considered an acquaintance, his mate attacked her violently and she’s going to be damned if her last moments on this plane of existence was going to be in fear.

She pushes her shoulders back and raises her chin in defiance, and Reaper sighs again. He keeps his hands up in surrender, “Lilith,” he starts patiently, “I’m not here to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” she asks him coldly, holding her ground.

He gives her a calm smile, “Well, usually I would help ease the dead into the afterlife.” Her expression goes tight, and she grits her teeth. Of course, it had to be fucking Reaper that would see her off into that last good night.

She doesn’t want to leave Sans, and the thought of him being alone makes something in her wobble in pain that she won’t allow Reaper to see.

“But,” he continues suddenly, “You aren’t dead.” That makes her pause, and something softens in her chest with confusion and hope. Still, she says nothing and lets Reaper continue, “You came awfully close. Close enough that you landed in the realm of the dead, where I would normally take you to the beyond.”

He grins at her again, and his eye lights soften with affection, “But Sans loves you so much.”

Lilith frowns, and something makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It was the way he said it that made her instinct bubble and prickle, “What did he do?” she all but whispered, and it took the affection out of Reaper’s eye lights.

He offered her a sad sigh, “The one thing a monster should never do.” He told her, “He gave you core magic.”

Lilith frowned, not understanding, and Reaper gives her another soft grin. One that painfully reminds her of Sans, “You see. Monsters are made of magic. All the way down to our cores, we are magic and mercy. Humans,” and he gives her a grin, “Are made of blood and iron. You joke that your made of spite and malice, but that’s not true. Your made of stardust and water. Your kind don’t need magic to survive. Even you. If you were to bleed yourself dry of magic, you could live long enough to recuperate it, so long as your body is not damaged.”

Lilith nods slowly, “We would be human.”

“Exactly.” Reaper agrees softly, “But monsters, if we bleed ourselves dry, we have nothing to fall back on. Nothing to hold us together and survive long enough to recuperate the magic we’ve lost.” He frowns, looks sad and even a little worried, “What Sans did, in order to save you, was give you a piece of core magic. The magic that comes from his very centre, the most potent magic he has, his most powerful and the thing that would keep him alive. He gave you a piece of that, enough that it pulled your soul back together and kick started your healing trait.”

Lilith freezes, feels her heart crush inward at Reaper’s words and what he was implying, “Sans is going to die.”

She says it as a statement not a question, and Reaper nods, “So you could live.” He agrees quietly.

Dread, heavy thick dread, fills Lilith’s soul and she feels her knees go weak, “No.” Emotion chokes her, and her soul feels heavy. No, not Sans. Please not Sans.

“Lilith.” Reaper says her name softly, and it brings her eyes back to him and his patient smile that makes her heart ache. He looks just like Sans. “There’s a way to save him.”

Hope is a painful thing when its dangling in front of you, and anger hits Lilith next. He’s bartering with Sans life and part of her instantly hates him for doing this. He’s going to give her a shitty ultimatum, its always a shitty ultimatum, and based on how Error reacted to Nightmare, it was going to hurt him somehow. That’s what this was all about, Nightmare or Sans, and it _wasn’t fair_. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it…

“Error feels really bad about what happened in your world.” He tells her suddenly, looking down at his hands with a frown, “He was really trying to figure out what Nightmare was doing there, and you were an unfortunate piece of collateral damage.” He gives a little shrug, “Error has a hard time, he suffers a lot.”

Lilith has no idea why Reaper is telling her all this, but she lets him continue, “And I think he was very hurt when Nightmare rejected him because of our relationship. He really did see Nightmare as a friend.” She’s about to defend Nights, her Den mate, when Reaper smiles again, “And I know Nightmare suffers too. He saw Error as a friend, and they really do need to work their shit out.”

That makes Lilith pause, and she gives him an almost grin, “Okay, yeah. That’s true.”

Reaper smiles back, “So think of this as an apology. From Error and I.” he clarifies, “And maybe a way to mend the bridge between Error and Nightmare. There’s no strings attached to this.” He told her with a smile, seeing too much, like Judges should. Like Sans couldn’t anymore, and Lilith just _hurts_ all the more.

Still, relief fills Lilith as she nods, “How do I save Sans?” Even she is impressed with herself that she didn’t stumble over her own words.

Taking a breath, Reaper gives her a smile, “It is not without risk. I need you to understand that Lilith.”

“Reaper.” She hissed, her eyes narrowing in true anger, “How do I save Sans?” she won’t ask him again.

He continues to give her that annoyingly patient smile, “I need you to understand that this might kill you Lilith. There is no guarantee this will work. You may still lose Sans.” He tells her, holding her steady gaze and anger like it was nothing. He held firm until she slowly nodded, and his smile brightens, “You need to soul bond with him.”

Lilith blinks at him, holding his gaze like she’s meant to know what he’s talking about, “What is that?” she asks slowly, eyes narrowed, and her hands balled into fists.

Nodding, the tip of Reaper’s hood puffs out into the shape of a smoky little heart, “You need to tie your soul to Sans’s. Bind your magic to his, your _life,_ the very essence of your being, _to his_.”

Reaper takes a breath, and rolls his shoulders back, “If you do this, bind your souls, this will be a forever thing. He will always be apart of you, and vice versa. You will tie your soul to his, permanently.” He gives her a sad smile, “The risk is that he could drag you down. If he’s too far gone, even someone with your magical well, may go down with him.”

Lilith’s mind is racing, her emotions a tangled mess of horror and hope, and she tries not to let the sheer terror choke her. She focuses on that this will save Sans, “But he could live?”

Reaper nods, “He might.” He takes another deep, soothing breath, “You have a, well, frighteningly deep well of magic. Two people could easily feed from it without dragging you down permanently. If you could bear the burden of his injury, keep him alive with _your_ magic, from _your_ soul, it would allow him time to recuperate the core magic he gave you.”

“So,” Lilith took a soft breath, “I just need to keep him afloat until he can heal? “ she asks oddly delicate, needing clarity, still not daring to hope too deeply.

Reaper nods, “It’s a big if Lilith. He’s hurt beyond words, what he’s done to himself is a death sentence otherwise. Even if everything goes right, this still might not work, and even if you don’t die along with him, you’ll feel him die. You will feel his soul shatter and break, like it was your own.”

Her mind suddenly calms, and its like the war. Its like when her own leaders told her and Felix that they were likely on a one-way mission, that the probability of coming home was so low there was no extraction point. Low enough that there was no back up, no help coming, that they were the last line of defense in a dangerous game.

It’s a weird sick twist of normalcy that calms Lilith and helps her focus. She’s been here before, a one-way mission with overwhelming odds, and it feels normal.

She’s calmer when she asks, “What about after? When I’ve got him, what will it do to us after?”

Reaper blinks at her, his grin slow to grow, and he shakes his head at her, “It’s hard to say. There aren’t any monster and mages that I know of that have successfully bonded. But,” his smile falls and his voice is serious, “If you follow what monsters do, you’ll be able to hear each others’ thoughts. You’ll need to practice building walls to keep each other out of your heads when appropriate to do so. Being able to feel each others’ emotions, and even talking to each other, in your heads, are signs of healthy, stable bonds. Even the ability to block each other for a short while, is a good thing. You may even be able to use some of his magic, since a piece of him will always be with you, and vice versa. Not fully, but a little.”

Lilith nods, steeling herself, calming and finding her titanium core, “How?” she asks coolly as her vice and LV settle, and she’s filled with determination.

It makes Reaper grin, “Well, you need to initiate a soul session, like you would if you were giving him magic. But you need to press in further and harder then you’ve ever gone before. You need to touch his core, _find_ him within his soul and offer a piece of yours in return.”

Lilith nods, face grim and ready to accept this mission, this responsibility when she pauses, “Reaper, what if he isn’t awake to consent to this? To the,” and she pauses and rolls her hand, looking for the word, “the soul bond?” she looks stricken at the thought, and Reaper is quick to reassure her.

“It doesn’t work like that Lilith.” He tells her, offering a crooked grin that makes her heart ache at the familiarity of it. It hurts to see Sans’s grin on someone else’s face and knows that he isn’t in love with her, “A soul can be physically damaged. Hurt and stripped of its outer flesh, even torn apart and crushed like any other organ. But to touch someone’s core without their consent would take time to break them down. It would take immense torture, and patience.”

Reaper pauses, and his eye lights drop, “It’s what Asgore would have wanted to do to Sin. Would have done, if you hadn’t saved him.” Her eyes soften at the thought of her Den mate and her sisters’ mate, and her shoulders droop as Reaper continues, “ Even if you aren’t asking permission with your voice, you’re asking for permission with your soul. And,” he hesitates a little, “It’ll be up to him weather or not he lets you in.”

Lilith blinks at him and feels something soothed, something eased inside.

Reaper hesitates, “He might not Lilith. And you’ll need to be prepared for that.” That makes the tension coil a little tighter and she takes a sharp breath, “All your doing is offering.” He gives a nervous little shrug, “Think of it as knocking at the door. It’s up to him if he opens it or not.”

Lilith drops her own eyes as they slowly gleam crimson, growing with brightness as the dark brown orbs are overtaken with magic that is only now starting to fill her weary body. Reaper smiles as she lifts her gaze back to him, her expression firm and set into cold fury and determination.

_Lilith_? A voice echoes around them, a man’s voice calling to her. Painfully familiar, and Reaper can see the moment Lilith hears it. Can see it in the way her shoulders loosen, and she relaxes as she looks up.

Reaper smiles, and knows they don’t have much time, “Reach out to him Lilith.” That draws her eyes back to him, “It’s all you can do now. Its _your_ Hail Mary Pass, your one chance. Offer your own soul first, let him reach back, and when he draws you into his soul, find him. And tell him how much you love him.” Her expression goes impossibly soft, and Reaper is sure he’s never seen her so compassionate, so _human_.

_This_ was Sans’s girl. This silly little mage who was as deeply and impossibly in love with him as he was her, and not the fierce, cutthroat soldier that everyone else saw. No, that was her outer shell, what Reaper was seeing now, was the _Lilith_ that she kept well hidden.

And Reaper got to see _that_ and got to help _that_ person.

_Lil. Come on. You need to wake up._ She looks up at the voice, and frowns, “Felix?”

Reaper gives her a smile, “Our time is almost up.” He tells her gently, “Your heart’s started, you aren’t technically dead anymore, and its time to go home.” His skull tilts, and Reaper is filled with _hope._ If anyone could pull this off, march into war undaunted and drag Sans back from the brink of death, it was Lilith.

Reaper does find the humor in that; that Death of Pandora fell in love with a skeleton man, and is about to snatch him away from the cold grip of death. It does stand to reason that, if anyone could do it, it _would_ be Reaper’s name sake.

_Lilith, wake up!_

She looks at him and understands that the magic that keeps her here in this realm is loosening, and soon, she’s going home, “Thank you Reaper. Honestly, thank you.”

Reaper’s startled by the amount of emotion in her voice, and it makes him smile, “Your welcome Lilith.” He tells her softly, “And hopefully this will help uh, ease the tension between Nightmare and Error.”

She gives him a small, rueful grin, and it’s the kindest expression she’s directed at him, “No promises.” She pauses, and rolls her shoulder back to relax, “But I’ll put a good word in for you.”

It makes a grin curl at Reaper’s mouth, “Thank you Lilith.”

_Lilith! Wake the fuck up!_ Felix’s voice sounds panicked, unusually thick and fearful, _Sans needs you_.

That makes Lilith’s eyes shoot upward into the inky, blank darkness, and the softness is gone. Replaced instead with a harsh expression and anger as her mouth pulled into a flat line. Her hands ball into fists, and she sucks on her teeth.

Reaper grins, “Good luck Lilith.” That brings those vibrant crimson orbs back to him, but he doesn’t fear the anger that seems to crackle around her like static electricity. His sockets go wide, “Oh! And watch that first step back into your body. It’s a _killer_.”

That seems to break some of the tension, and she smirks, “Yeah, my hearts stopped before.” And when she smiles, its only a slight curl at her lip, but there’s something playful there, “It’s always like getting _cold_ clocked.”

“Cold as the dead?” Reaper asks brightly, and it makes her grin.

Her mouth opens, as if she’s going to sass back, and Reaper suddenly gets why Sans thinks she’s funny, but then, as if a fishhook as pierced her soul and the barbs have stuck into her. She’s yanked backwards off her feet and out of his world.

Reaper is alone again, and he smiles after her, grinning like a fool at the empty space as her soul was hauled back into her body, “Good luck Lilith.” And he knows that she’s going to need it.

Even with luck and magic and determination on her side, she still has an uphill battle. A hard, vicious fight, to save Sans.

Taking a breath, Reaper allows himself to fall backwards into the nothingness of the void and appearing into Error’s realm with a smile. 

He finds his bonefriend sitting in the middle of his mostly empty world, his hand made dolls carefully suspended over head as he worked on another one with determined focus and fervor. Reaper can’t help but grin when he sees that it’s a little angry Nightmare doll, and his soul pulses with love for the corrupted monster.

He eases himself down next to Error, feels him huff and go tense. He feels the weird buzz of Error’s arm next to his, like static electricity when touching the screen of an old television, and he patiently waits, “He’s cute.” He comments lightly.

Error huffs again, and Reaper glances at him, watching him carefully for the signs that Error is ready to be touched, “hE iSN’t cUtE.” He mutters, earning a grin from Reaper.

Error slouches and leans ever so slightly into Reaper with a frown. He stares at his little Nightmare doll, and the little frowning face glares up at him as the head bobbles on his neck. It’s….adorable, but Reaper isn’t going to push it when Error’s already feeling raw and uncertain.

Instead, he leans over, seeing the sign of Error’s want to touch him for what it was, and slid an arm over his tense shoulders in a very light hold. It had taken them _time_ to get here, and they were still moving slowly. Moving at Error’s pace, and his soul _sings_ when Error lays his skull against his shoulder.

He takes a breath, and Reaper can feel the uncertainty in his lover, “YoU talk TO tHe mAgE?”

Reaper nods laying his cheek softly against Error’s skull, and he tightens his hold a little more, “I did.” He affirms, “I told Lilith how to save Sans.” Error nods and runs his thumb over the little arm of the Nightmare doll, frowning hard.

“You know love.” He offers softly, “You could just talk to him.” That earns him a glower, and Error’s eye lights glitch a little. Reaper rubs his cheek along his mate’s skull, were ever he could reach, and he feels Error relax, “You could.” He offers.

“He HaTeS mE.” Error spits back, frowning at the little doll.

“Well.” Reaper starts, “You did attack his new friend.” Error huffs as Reaper winces, “So just go talk to him. You miss your friend.”

Error doesn’t say anything, just continues to play with his little doll. Reaper presses into Error a little more, “You know.” He offers, “With the mage out of commission, and Sans so badly hurt, they’re going to be very vulnerable right now.”

That gets Error to look at him with a frown, “sO?” he sounds confused and it makes Reaper grin at him.

“Error, we can help.” That draws his brow bones together, and Error just blinks at him, “You want to talk to Nightmare? Offer your help to keep his Crew safe until the mage can get back on her feet.”

Error frowns, and looks back down at his doll, “hE wOnT lEt mE nEaR tHeM.” His voice glitches a little more in his raw upset, “No WaY hE lEts mE nEaR tHeM wHeN oNe Is HuRt.”

“You won’t know until you ask.” Reaper offers gently, and continues to rub along the top of his skull, “Tell you what?” Error looks up at him with a hesitant frown, “I’ll come with you. If its too much, or if Nightmare is an ass. We’ll leave.”

Error hesitates and lets the doll fall to his lap, “YoU’lL cOmE wItH mE?”

The hesitation and hurt makes something ache in Reaper’s soul. Error has suffered so much, had such a delicate soul beneath the trauma and horror, and when he looks at Reaper, its with something so fragile. Reaper leans into a quick kiss, “Of course I’ll come with you.” He tells him brightly, and he purrs when Error’s arms go around him in a hug, “You know I’ll have your back.” He murmured softly into Error’s skull, nuzzling in for another kiss that makes Error relax.

Much like Nightmare, Reaper had seen Error, _his_ love, suffer and left in pain. He’d seen Error being hurt time and time again, and if this brought a measure of happiness to him, well, Reaper would see it through.

Hesitating, Error takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh before he calls down the thick cables to wind around the doll’s arms, hoisting it up with the others. He leans into Reaper’s hold a little more, pressing his own hesitant, shy kiss to his mouth, making Reaper purr and the tail of his hood to curl into a little heart, “oKaY.” He says softly, “LeTs gO hElP.” He hesitates and huffs, “i FeEl bAd fOr wHaT I dId tO tHe aBoMiNaTiOn.”

Reaper huffs a laugh, and well, it’s a step in the right direction. With flourish, Reaper pushes himself to stand, and offers a hand to his mate, “Come on love, lets go help your friend.”

Error takes his hand and allows himself to be pulled up and tugged against Reaper’s chest. He’s about to sass off to him, to tell Reaper that he doesn’t have friends or need them. Tell the lie he keeps telling himself when he’s missing his stupid friends and help reduce the ache of his soul.

He’s pulled flush to his lovers’ chest, and Reaper curls his arms around him, and they fall through a portal.

Error takes a breath and hopes at least that this won’t trigger a territorial response from Nightmare. He’s plunging into the darkness, and all Error can do is hold onto his mate and hope for the best.


	41. I'm Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lilith wakes up, and has her second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I hope you have all had a very Merry Christmas and a safe holiday season. 
> 
> Its finally Saturday, which means a new chapter, and at long last, we get to see Lilith wake up. :) 
> 
> Once again, I want to thank Kate from the bottom of my heart for the idea of this arc and for allowing me to turn it into a reality. This has become one of my favorite arcs so far, and I'm really happy with the direction this is going in.
> 
> Only a few warnings here, but I hope you enjoy! <3 
> 
> WARNING: vague discussion/memories of Sans's rape from the Ninety Fourth Time. It is not in great detail, but the mention is there.

Lilith is no stranger to injury. She’s no stranger to pain, of course not, not with her role in the war. She had earned her name well, embodied all that was Death in her youth, and had earned every blood-soaked level of violence she had.

Pain was not something unusual for her, and this isn’t the first time Lilith has woken up after her heart had stopped, and she had been torn from the icy grip of death itself. Sure, this may be the _closest_ she’s come to that sweet good night, but it certainly isn’t the first time.

Still, the shot of adrenaline that courses through her body when her mind claws its way to consciousness is always brutal and painful. Lilith will swear to it, that when they get your heart started again and you step away from the edge of death and back to life, it hurts like a mother fucker.

Its not a smooth easy step back into life, but a brutal _shove_ into a body that’s in pain and feels far too much, so much so that it’s overwhelming. Its like stepping out of a dark room and into sheer sunlight, and the light stings your eyes, making them water. It’s like coming up for air after being under water for far too long, and that first deep, ragged breath you take is like you’re never going to breathe again.

You wake up disoriented, confused and in agony as your bodies systems come online all at once in an excruciating seizure, and if you were lucky, you were ripped from the brink someplace dark and safe. If you were really lucky, your Den would be with you and you’d get some comfort as your body reoriented itself to being alive.

She can remember the times, abet, a little hazy, that she was yanked back from death on the battlefield with the expectation of marching back into war. Knowing she had to because her Den was waiting for her to get up. She had to, because failure meant death for everything and everyone she loved, and it was just what she had to do.

Victory was her only option.

Still, it always sucked when you were torn back into life, and when Lilith wakes up in the stiff, uncomfortable bed of the infirmary room, she doesn’t know where she is, what’s happening, and her body reacts to the sudden sickness of being alive.

She shrieks before she can stop herself, her body trembling in the throes of shock as she clutches at the sheet beneath her and her spine arches unnaturally. Everything hurts, she’s a raw nerve of pain, exposed and out in the open, and her soul screams for help. Even her skin burns as blood pumps through her again and magic fills her mana lines, leaving her limbs feeling tingly with pins and needles.

Her vision comes back slowly, and her soul is _screaming_ louder for help, for connection.

Its screaming out for Sans.

Felix is by her side after the first shriek, his hands are gentle, like he’s afraid she would break and he’s talking to her softly like an injured animal, easing her down from her hyperaware state. He’s careful and slow, keeping his touch supremely gentle as he helps her ease down to the bed, and he holds her hand as she trembles and shakes.

“I got you, I got you Lil.” He tells her softly, and Lilith suddenly realizes she can hear him again, that her hearing _is_ coming back as her vision clears and Felix pets her hair.

Trembling, she looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes as she goes limp in the bed. Her body still isn’t responding to her like it should be as her mind struggles to catch up with the fact that she’s not dead. She’s feeling weirdly dense, her body packed with muscle and magic.

Felix gives her a weak look, and Lilith _knows,_ even without Reaper’s warning, that its bad. That Sans is really in a bad way, but she can’t help him. Not yet, not right now.

Right now, Lilith needs her brother.

Climbing into the bed with her, Felix presses his back into the wall, and pulls Lilith towards him so that her head lay weakly against his chest, her hair falling limply over her eyes as she shakes. His arms go around her muscular body, wrapped tightly around her back and he lays his cheek on her head as she curls into him, and sighs, “It’s okay. I got you Lilith. I got you.”

His heart is a comfortable rhythm under his ribs, and Lilith’s own heart slows to match his, like it needs to be reminded how to beat properly. That it _doesn’t_ need to go a mile a minute like she’s sprinting across a pock marked battlefield.

No, she was home, and safe, and her little brother was here. He’d keep her safe, until she could struggle back to her own feet, just like they had in the war.

“Lilith.” Felix’s voice is hard and strong over her ear, “You’re hyperventilating. Slow your breathing down.” He reminds her, takes a slow breath for her to mimic as a reminder.

It takes time, to get her breathing to even out, to slow down.

“Good.” He praises, squeezes her, like he had almost lost his big sister and he was afraid to let her go, “Keep breathing.”

Lilith does, even when it hurts, and her body sings in agony that is only starting to cool.

She clings to Felix, feels magic under his skin, and thinks about breathing. Keep breathing, calm her soul, then she’s going to save Sans. It’s the only thing that keeps her awake, the only thing keeping her aware, and the second rush of adrenaline isn’t from fear or shock of being ripped from death.

Its determination that she’s going to save Sans.

Felix stiffens around her, like a wild animal protecting its kill, and he would protect her with just as much viciousness, Lilith doesn’t doubt it. The bed dips, and Felix doesn’t move, doesn’t even growl and Lilith know she’s safe. That whoever is near, is a non-threat, and when Lilith finds the strength to look over, Edge is sitting at the edge of her bed, shy and hesitant like he doesn’t know if he belongs.

Relief washes over Lilith to see him, to know that he’s safe and here, and alive, and she reaches weakly out for his hand. He gives it over to her without a fight, and he carefully sinks his claws between her fingers to let her cling to him.

The effect is near instant, to have one of her boys so close. It calms something inside, the panicked thing that’s been using her heart like a punching bag, and Lilith finally calms. She takes a breath, and swears that once she’s saved Sans, and he’s well enough, _they_ are going to claim the fuck out of the Fell brothers.

She smiles at him, feels the first real taste of her magic and strength coming back, and Edge gives her a ghost of a grin. It’s not really there, nearly invisible if you weren’t a battle mage trained to look for subtleties.

“Sorry.” She rasps, and it’s a delicate, soft word, and it twists something in Edge’s expression, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Edge’s expression hardens again, and for the briefest of moments, he looks shattered. Utterly and horribly sad, and Lilith knows he thinks Sans will die. Fuck, he might still, but Lilith is a determined soul, and she isn’t letting him go without a fight.

“Lilith.” His voice creaks, and it hurts something in Lilith, to hear him so defeated, “Sans. He.” Edge looks to the bed across the room, and Lilith can see the Den and the Crew clustered around a bed, and a body that is laying too still. Good. There’s still time.

“I know.” She tells Edge softly, and magic is starting to build in her again. She’s going to need help, she knows, she needs restoration potions, as many as she can drink, her own power is coming back with her sheer will, “He’s dying.”

Edge gives her a surprised look, startles before it crumples again into pain and horror, “I’m sorry.” He muttered and squeezed Lilith’s hand.

She wants to comfort him, she does, but she simply doesn’t have the time. Sans needs her more.

Magic that Sans gave her is starting to gather, starting to boost her, and she’s starting to feel better. Her limbs stop shaking, and as Lilith scans the room, she pushes herself out of Felix’s arms.

Red is against the furthest wall, isolated from everyone else as he stares carefully blank across the room, hyper focused on a wall. His face is too blank, his eye lights too dim, and Lilith winces. She knows pain when she sees it, self loathing and hatred. She knows Red blames himself for what happened, and later, when she’s got Sans, they’ll shove that thought out of his thick skull.

Her eyes move past him, to the bed where Sans lay dying, and Lilith grins when she sees the restoration potions, four whole jars, sitting innocently on a metal table. It’s all she needs.

She looks back to Edge, firm and unrelenting, and it all snaps back into place at once and her body remembers what its like to be alive. Good thing she’s done this whole nearly dying thing before.

“We’re not losing him.” She told him firmly, earning a surprised look before pity stares back at her. It almost makes Lilith grin, Fate doesn’t know who she’s fucking with, and Death isn’t about to let her mate go, “We’re not.” She tells him again, insistent this time.

Edge’s sharp mouth opens to tell her the opposite, to break the news gently that Sans was in fact, going to die, when she leans forward and carefully cups his face. He feels different from Sans, the bone of his face sharper, harder somehow, and Edge stills when she presses a small, chaste kiss against his teeth.

Sans is going to be annoyed, she muses. They had spoken about how to broach this before, which one would be the better of the two to talk to, and what it would be like to kiss them. Who was going to get to kiss them first, but after nearly dying, Lilith thinks she gets a little leeway.

She’ll make it up to Sans, make sure he gets Red’s first kiss. Make sure its better then this desperate, bloody kiss she’s having with Edge. He won’t be mad, of course not, but still. She wanted him to be here too.

Felix is utterly still behind her, eyes wide as Edge goes a little soft under her hands. Relenting to her soft, chaste kiss, and barely opens his teeth to nuzzle back against her soft mouth.

She breaks it first, adrenaline and affection flooding her, and she whispers against his mouth, “I’m going to save Sans. I’ll bring him home.” For both of them. For all of them.

Edge can only stare at her with wide sockets and bright eye lights, stunned by her grit, her refusal to bend in the face of overwhelming odds. She’s still cool from her brush with death, her hands cold on his skull, but her eyes burn, and Edge is helpless to nod at her words.

She holds such believe that she can save him, is so steadfast that Edge must believe in her, can’t help but be swayed by her confidence.

She grins at him, brushes another quick kiss to his mouth before she throws her legs over the edge of the bed and pushes herself up. Felix hisses when she’s unsteady for a moment, and her head swims with sick and nausea, but she shakes it away. Its just from standing too quickly, and she refuses to fall now, not when magic is starting to rush through her body.

She takes a breath and shakes out her hands as she steadies herself. Edge is on his feet, ready to catch her should she stumble or fall, but Lilith shores herself up with magic, and lets it leak into her muscles to keep her strong.

Felix is on her other side, giving her a shrewd look, with narrowed eyes, like he knows she’s about to commit some bullshit that’s probably going to work. She takes a breath, takes comfort in that they’re by her side, and she takes a careful, slow step towards Sans.

Edge and Felix stay near her, pulled in close like honor guards, and Lilith takes comfort in that as she crosses the room. She slows, but doesn’t stop near Red, and she frowns. He won’t look at her, he’s staring straight ahead, blank and cold, and grinding his sharp teeth so hard that she’s sure he can taste dust.

Hurt radiates off him in heavy waves, and his soul warbles out in pain, crying out for comfort that Lilith can’t give him right now. Everything about him is closed off, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jacket is heavy and bulky, and even how his foot is propped against the wall at his back looks like he’s ready to push off it to start a fight.

Lilith walks passed him, refocuses on Sans, and something small presses inward in her soul to leave Red. A small piece of guilt that she stuffs into a box to ignore until she can do something about it.

The Crew looks up at her as she nears Sans’s bed, even Crow’s face pulling into as much pity as he could manage, his respirator puffing out deep pink smoke with how high Lola has cranked the love to keep him on even keel.

Battle mages need physical comfort when they’re upset, need to give it, and as she passed him, Lilith reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. Crow relaxes under her hand, feels the warmth in her skin and butts his forehead into the side of her arm as she walks past.

Ripper is sitting at the windowsill, covering Crow’s other side, looking miserable and angry, like he can’t decide which emotion to settle on. Palming his cane, he nods to her when she passes by, standing to close off the circle when she slowly walks to Sans’s bed. He’s guarding her back, protecting her too, and it warms something in her soul. Her Den is here, and they’re safe. She’s safe, and she’s going to save Sans.

Knowing how hurt someone is and seeing it are two different beasts, and seeing Sans so hurt, so close to death, takes her breath away and her soul pulses in pain. Even as prepared for it as she was, its still agony to see him so hurt.

He’s pale on the bed, like the sun has bleached his bones so they’re stark white. There’s no life left in them, drained of their magic, and his bones are chalky as dusk lifts off him like drying glitter. His right hand is gone, nothing but a carefully bandaged stump that is dusting lightly with the glittery essence that was Sans’s body giving out.

His soul was out, floating weakly over his chest. It’s a dull silvery blue, with a spec of yellow in the centre, and two IV lines were pumping crimson and gold magic into his soul. It didn’t do anything, didn’t even _warm_ him, and his soul is painfully dry. Even the healed crack, mended by Lilith’s magic was a ruddy red rather then bright crimson, and he just looks so _weak._

Gaster is on the other side of the bed, holding onto Sans’s upper arm like a lifeline, clutching at his son like he’s afraid to let him go, that Sans is going to disappear. It’s fair, Lilith thinks, because Sans _is_ going to disappear if someone doesn’t do something.

Tears stream down Gaster’s face, and he isn’t ashamed to cry over his dying son. The son he’s just been reunited with, and it’s not fair. Beside Gaster, Papyrus is openly sobbing into Ryder’s chest, deep, heavy swallows of misery. His long skeletal hands cling desperately to Ryder’s shirt, as the mage’s thick arms wrap tightly around Papyrus. Ryder’s scarred face is leaning down onto Papyrus’s skull and he’s humming low in his throat in a vague attempt at comfort in the face of Sans’s death.

Taking a breath, and calming her inner turmoil, Lilith reaches for Sans’s left hand, and its so cold against her skin. Like ice, and its so disturbing how still and limp Sans is. His chest barely moves with his shallow, weak breathing that Lilith would have called a death rattle as he inched closer and closer to death.

His soul is so weak that Lilith can barely feel his soul song, it can barely sing to hers and its full of pain and exhaustion. It makes her soul hurt, and she can feel the magic that he gave her swirl in hers, and Lilith lifts his fingers to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Can.” Edge’s voice rasps from beside her, watery and hurting, “Can Frisk Reset the day? Can we try again.”

Lilith is still holding Sans’s hand, holding his knuckles to her lips, peppering small kisses against the cold bones, and allows Sloan to answer from her position from the other side of the room, “Frisk hasn’t practiced with resetting since the underground. Only rewinding.” She hesitates from between Nightmare and Sin, gripping tightly at Sin’s hand, glancing to them both before she adds quietly, “She could accidently go back too far. Back to the underground. She’s a little afraid to try.”

Lilith takes a deep breath, softly inhaling Sans’s scent, sweet smelling magic, that she knows tastes like sour patch kids, and she squeezes his hand, “Nightmare?” her voice is rough and raw from her screaming, but she still grips onto Sans tightly, “Do you trust Reaper?”

The question draws his azure eye light, and his brow bone pulls to make a little crease in the middle of his forehead as Nightmare considers the question, “He’s never done anything outright malicious.” He tells Lilith slowly, sounding a little confused that is only starting to show on the others faces.

It’s enough for her, enough of a show of trust to know that he _probably_ wasn’t trying to outright kill her.

“I died.” She told him suddenly, not bothering to sugar coat it, and the words are murmured into Sans’s fingers.

Everyone in the room flinches at her plainly spoken words, and tension twists through Nightmare. Clearing his throat, he glances up to Sloan’s devastated expression, and the tears that she hasn’t spilt as a tentacle coils around the elbow closest to him. “Lilith, maybe you should lay back down, you’ve been through a trauma, and you should rest.”

It’s sweet, the Den magic that binds them all together is humming strongly in the room, and Lilith _likes_ that Nightmare is looking out for her. No different from one of his boys, no different for her if the roles were reversed, but Sans needs her.

She laughs, bitter and cold against Sans’s fingers, and crimson starts to fill her eyes, “I saw Reaper when I died.” The others in the room shift with discomfort, and Nightmare’s frown deepens, “Sans saved me, but I still met Reaper.” She sounds like she’s in a daze, and the power that is humming through her is dizzying, “And he told me I could save Sans, if I bound my soul to his.”

Nightmare freezes with a hiss, his eye light constricting to a slit of anger, before he sneers, “It could kill you Lilith.” His voice is cold and worried, and Lilith nods along with his words, “And that will render Sans’s sacrifice useless if you throw your life away so thoughtlessly.”

“It would.” She agrees with him, carefully setting Sans’s hand back to the bed, and she straightens up. Her spine rolls upwards, and her shoulders fall back and down, and she carries herself the same way she would have if she had been on the battlefield. Magic fills her, and its weird when she can feel the magic Sans gave her at her fingertips, but its not enough.

She reaches for the first restoration potion, and her voice is stronger, “But I’m not dying.” She cracks the seal, and everyone winces as she shoots it back in two painfully quick gulps. Sloan’s magic fills her, settles in her bones, her mana lines and it makes her shiver.

Nightmare stares at her with a wide socket, his mouth slightly agape as Lilith goes for the second jar, “And if Reaper hasn’t done anything to earn our distrust, then this is our best shot at saving Sans.”

Sloan glances to Nightmare as Lilith cracks the second jar, and swallows down the potion. The Crew and the Den, shift uncomfortably as anger from Nightmare snaps around him, “There are easier ways to commit suicide Lilith, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

Edge flinches, and Felix growls at her side, but Lilith is calm even as Sloan reaches out for Nightmare’s shoulder. He presses into her touch, but he holds his gaze with Lilith.

Lilith sighs as she carefully puts down the jar, feeling heavy and full, a little sick as magic that isn’t hers swells through her mana lines, and she reaches for the next jar, “Don’t be afraid Nights.” That startles him, and a little of his frown softens, “You don’t need to be scared.” She looks down at Sans, and wonders how horrified, how terrified he must have been, but Lilith _believes_ this isn’t where their story ends.

“I’m not dying here. And neither is Sans.” She tells him and her lush red and blue soul pulses with determination, “You don’t need to worry. It’s going to be fine.” Her voice is oddly calm, and Lilith believed it with all her soul. She knows everything is going to be fine.

“You don’t know that!” everyone jerks at Red’s angry, vicious tone, and they all looked over at him. He’s pushed himself off the wall, and his left socket has erupted into flashing red and yellow magic, volatile and tinged with madness.

Edge is about to tell his brother off but is only stalled by Lilith’s gentle hand on his elbow, and she shakes her head no at him. Her voice is smooth and oddly calm, and her brow furrows, “Red, its okay.” She tries to calm him, but his face scrunches into cold anger.

“You know what? Fine. You want to hitch your soul to a dying monster? Fucking go for it, but I won’t be any part of this.” He hisses, and Lilith feels her heart drop, and throb in hurt.

Her expression is forced into neutral, but she grips Edge’s arm a little tighter, and his thick, heavy claws reach for her hand to squeeze her fingers back as they watch him go. Lilith takes comfort in Edge being there, holding her hand and her soul warbles out a sad song to his, and it trills in happiness when a hesitant and clumsy song hums back to her.

Red spins away, ignoring the angry, snarling expression from the Crew, storming towards the door of the infirmary, his hands balled into fists.

Ripper smiles, cold and nasty, from behind Lilith as he watches Red leave, his words mocking as they follow him out, “That’s right little Red, run away when shit gets hard.” That makes Red stall by the door, half turning to glower at Ripper, grinding his sharp teeth at his smug, bright expression, “Just _leave_ the Crew I guess.” And his head tilts, “Like a little bitch.” And his grin grows colder, and his soul pulses bright red with his LV, “’Cuz the way I see it, if we’re Den, then they’re Crew. _Lilith_ is Crew.”

Lilith feels her soul warm at that, its as much of a claiming as Crow covering her back, that she, that her Den, meant something to them. “And if you walk out on Crew, then fuck off. We don’t need you.”

Red’s expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t move from his spot at the door. Ripper leans heavily onto his cane, gripping it tightly as he limps closer to Lilith, covering her back a little more thoroughly, and Crow steps back as well to close the circle.

Lilith feels something warm and wet prickle at her eyes, but she refuses to let the tears fall that her Den mates were standing with her, even though the bonds were still shoring up and the magic was young. To have someone have her back unconditionally like this made her soul feel soft, even as it hurts at Red’s rejection.

Part of her gets it, she does. Red had watched her die, and that was traumatic enough, then he watched Sans tare himself apart to save her. Red wasn’t exactly in a great state of mind even when he first came to their world, and Lilith didn’t blame him for his lack of an ability to cope.

Red was in a constant state of anger at the best of time, hidden under a thin layer of sarcasm and pretending he didn’t feel things. This was too much for him, and he needed _out_. To be anything but angry or unfeeling, and admitting that he was afraid when he saw Lilith and Sans getting hurt, would be to admit a weakness. It would be admitting that he actually gave a shit about them, cared about what happened to them. 

And Red, just can’t. Even when Lilith gives him a barely hidden look of hurt and Edge’s expression has darkened into thunderous anger, he can’t. Its too much, too soon, and Red’s soul feels like its drowning in emotions that he can’t cope with. No doubt Nightmare can feel the panic that squeezes his soul like a vice and the agony of seeing Lilith and Sans like this, drinking down that negative emotion like the bastard he is. Thankfully, he doesn’t say shit beyond the disappointed expression that’s pinched his face.

Scoffing, Red doesn’t say anything as he yanks the door open to the infirmary, his soul in turmoil and unable to cope with what’s happening, when he freezes. It takes his mind a moment to reboot as he stares at fucking _Reaper_ standing in the hallway of the compound and understand what he’s seeing.

Reaper’s fist is raised and poised to knock, and he’s as frozen in time as Red is. Behind him, Error is moodily staring at his shoes, his hands fisted by his side as he stands as still as a statue. There’s a weary tension in his body, like he’s uncertain he’s allowed to be here, and he’s getting ready to cut and run.

Which is a fair assessment.

Rage hits Red next, and his hands tighten into fists as the room behind him feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and Reaper’s expression falls a little more. “You.” Red hisses coldly, his fingers sparking with magic as he summons a bone construct, and he’s going to stab the shit out of one of them.

Behind him, Nightmare appears like a dark shadow of teeth and sharp tentacles as he yanks Red back, shoving him behind him as Edge and Felix quickly sidestep in front of Lilith and Sans to act as guards.

Nightmare hisses, his tentacles splitting off to create a dozen shadowy limbs and his teeth go sharp as he flairs up in aggression. Not one, but two of his own are in a delicate and precarious place, and suddenly there’s a threat at his door.

Reaper holds his hands up in surrender with a bright grin the same time Lilith yells at Nightmare to stop, and it’s really her that gives him the incentive to calm a little. His teeth flatten out but his tentacles flick like an angry cat’s tail around him, “What do you want?”

Glancing back to his mate, Reaper sighs when Error offers no explanation, “To help.” He offers, wincing a little at Nightmare’s cold glare and Red’s hostile one, “Look, we feel bad for what happened to Lilith. And this, isn’t fair.”

Nightmare doesn’t look impressed and behind him Reaper can feel the others working themselves up, can see magic sparking at Crow’s fingers and Rippers looking like he’s trying to figure out how to use his cane to bludgeon him, “Bold of you to assume we need _your_ help.” Nightmare hisses coolly, turning himself into a wall between his people and them.

It makes Reaper smile, sees the defensive move for what it was and the _care_ for what it was even if Nightmare wasn’t ready to admit the truth. That this wasn’t some territorial response or possessiveness, this was affection, “The mage will be weak after she saves Sans.” Reaper doesn’t doubt that she’ll save him, he’d seen her soul and the amount of determination she had was staggering, “You’ll be without your pitch hitter. If your brother shows up, you’ll be down a team member.”

It makes Nightmare’s expression tighten, and his hands balled into fists as anger thunders across his expression. Reaper keeps his hands up and his voice calm, “Lilith will be weak for days, maybe even weeks if she’s going to support her and Sans until he can get back on his feet. You’ll need help if Dream shows up.”

“Tell me Reaper,” Nightmare hisses, angry and protective, “Why would we trust _you_?”

“Because what other choice do you have?” he asks mildly, and that seems to irritate Nightmare further and his tentacles thrash angrily around the room. It makes Lilith sigh as she reaches for the third jar, muttering _We don’t have time for this_ as she shoots back the cold liquid.

_That’s_ enough to make Felix frown, and he feels something vicious stir in this chest. Lilith was right, they don’t have the time for this. They don’t have time for Red’s bullshit, or Reapers or Errors for that matter. They’re all acting like children, when right now, Lilith needed them to work together.

Felix straightens up, and his expression darkens as the beast within his soul moves. He knows what they need to do, and he knows how to do it. Lilith maybe the best when it comes to taking a base, Felix isn’t arguing that, but he’s the best at fortification.

He turns to his sister, eyes glowing gold as his hand lands on her shoulder, “I’ll take care of this, just get ready to get Sans.”

Relief washes over Lilith and she nods as Nightmare and Reaper continue to bicker by the door, and she drinks the fourth potion. Turning to Edge, Felix’s voice is hard as armor starts to gather around his body heavily, “Edge, if anything happens, I need you to take care of Lilith.”

Edge startles, but he nods, “I’ll protect her.” He promises, vows really, and its enough to settle any doubt in Felix’s soul and sooths his instincts.

“Good.” He nods and turns to Gaster, “Gaster, I need you to take care of Sans.” His face is still heavy with tears, and he grips at Sans’s arm, but Gaster manages a nod. Its enough for Felix, and he knows between Gaster and Edge, they’re in good hands.

His armor is sharp and heavy over his frame, and he’s filled with a _need,_ an instinct to protect his sister, and when he whistles its sharp and piercing, and it makes the two demigods stop bickering to look at him.

When Felix speaks, its slow and precise, “So let me get this straight. Sans is dying because he gave Lilith core magic to live.” There’s a nod from both Reaper and Nightmare, and Red is still looking angrily at Error, “So she’s going to bind her soul to his.” And Felix uses his fingers to make links in a chain, “To maybe save him. Hopefully.”

There are more nods from around the room, and Felix nods with them, “And this might kill her. But if she doesn’t die, she’s going to be vulnerable for a long ass time, because Sans will feed from her magic, until he can heal and create enough of his own.”

There’s more nods, and Felix makes a face as he repositions his hands so they’re flat in front of him, like he was praying for patience, “Great, here’s what we’re going to fucking do. We’re going to fortify this building until Lilith is better, I don’t give a shit if Dream comes walking into our universe with an army, nothing gets in here. Nothing gets _close._ ”

He points to Reaper and Error, “You two want to help? Some misguided need to not be assholes and make up for stripping away my sisters free will?”

Reaper blinks at him a little, and Nightmare suppresses a smirk, “Well, I suppose –“

“Great.” Felix interrupts them, “Then you’ll both do what I say when I say it and stop fucking fighting with Nightmare until after Lilith’s back.” Red hisses, but Felix ignores him, “No more fighting. Lilith needs us to get our shit together, and that’s what we’re going to do. But either of you hurt anyone here in the compound, I’ll kill you both myself.”

Error finally looks up with a frown, his brow furrowed as if to argue back, but Felix has already moved on to bark orders out to the others. This is important and he isn’t fucking around, not with Sans and Lilith’s lives on the line.

Lilith lets her brother’s voice drown out into the background, and she refocuses on Sans. He’s still and limp in the bed, unmoving and barely breathing. Silvery dust lines his mouth like blood as his body gives out bit by painful bit, and he’s barely able to hold it together.

Edge steps next to Lilith as she takes a calming breath, and around them the Crew and the Den are jumping to follow Felix’s orders. Lilith glances to the door in time to see Red storm out, heading to guard the front door, closely followed by Wine and Coffee as they head out to station themselves on the roof as snipers.

Lilith refuses to let her heart hurt when he doesn’t come to check on them, doesn’t say goodbye, and she knows she’s feeling vulnerable and raw, and that’s why it hurts. And well…Lilith and Sans liked him.

She shakes it away, and focuses back in on Edge, and offers him a smile, “Thanks for staying.” She whispered to him, and his expression softens.

“Of course.” He tells her gently, reaching for her hand to sink thick, heavy claws between her seemingly defenseless hands, and Lilith melts.

She thinks back to the day he stormed into their world with the intent to kidnap Lola, desperate to save his brother, and how she broke him. She thinks how Edge, was a good man, was kind to the girls and Sans, and a lucky twist of Fate brought him to her and Sans.

She _knows_ that he would be a good mate for Sans. _~~Because it always came back to him. It always came back to Sans, and how much she loves him. Edge isn’t second fiddle, could never be, but her bond with Sans was special.~~_

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He told her, voice firm and full of his belief, like he _knows_ she’s going to succeed, and Lilith knows then and there. Edge is special too, and she’s going to bring Sans back to them.

Her throat goes a little thicker at his vow, his promise, and she knows that for once, she’s the one being protected. That Edge will be here when she wakes up, that he’ll protect her and guard her, “Thanks.” She mutters, and he holds her gaze determinedly.

Edge nods slowly, pulling her into a brief but tight hug, “It’ll be okay.” He whispers to her, and despite everything, despite Sans being hurt and Red abandoning them, Lilith believes him.

Felix is still barking orders at the others that no one is arguing with as Edge and Gaster get Sans onto his side, and into position. His soul throbs dully over the bed and his breathing is weak as Lilith climbs into bed with him.

She stretches out her long legs, twinning hers with his, her arms going over his ribs to hold him close and he’s cold. So very cold, that it makes Lilith shiver at the touch of his bones. Like there’s nothing but air in his bones, that he’s shaking apart and she refuses to think that he is.

When she summons her soul, its thick and lush with magic, both hers and Sans’s. In the centre of her crimson heart, a tiny speck of blue glows boldly, misting purple as it mixes with her soul magic. It’s the gift that Sans left her, his last I love you, when he was sure she was going to die.

Neither of them were going to die here.

She presses her crimson and blue soul into his, just like if she were initiating a healing session, and little fronds of his magic reach out to her soul, sucking back the magic desperately. Edge sits on the edge of her bed, and Gaster sobs softly, as she presses in further.

Deeper, just like she did with Red when he needed soul magic, _~~and she fucking wishes that he was here too,~~_ just below the surface as their souls merge. His soul is cold and weak, and Lilith can barely feel him, can barely feel him drawing her in as Edge pets her head.

He sinks his clawed fingers into her hair, letting out a shuttering breath as Lilith presses her soul in deeper into Sans’s, “I’m here.” He promises her again, and she can feel the tremble in his voice, and the hesitation in his soul song but he doesn’t leave.

Lilith has never been so grateful, and even as she pulls Sans closer, and he’s so, so limp, a lifeless doll in her arms, she reaches for a hand. He gives it up easily, and Edge holds her hand as she presses in harder into Sans’s soul, until its hard to know where one ends and the other begins.

Lilith hits an invisible wall, full of magic and intent, like a shield or a force field. Its full of fear and anger, this outer layer. The outer shell is cold and hard. A defensive wall, Lilith realizes, and she pauses.

She stops pushing, stops trying to force her way in, and _knocks._ Not with her hand, but her soul, reaching out beyond this wall, to where Sans is inside, asking to be let in. It makes _something_ else peek it’s interest. Something soft and affectionate, and finally, Lilith can feel Sans. Or, at least a part of him.

_Something_ reaches passed the blockade to grip at her soul hard but gently, like someone was taking her hand with urgency, and pulls her forward. Lilith sighs softly, her eyes sinking shut as she trips forward and falls.

She sinks down and into Sans’s soul, and everything that was _him_. With a sigh, Lilith allows herself to be pulled down, her body going limp and soft in the bed next to Sans, just as still as he was, as still as the dead. Her breathing is soft and even, deep like she’s dreaming but her soul gleams brightly from between their chests, nearly eclipsing Sans’s.

Edge sighs and rubs his thumb along the back of her hand before he lets it go to touch his teeth. The memory of the warm, rushed kiss is a soft one, and all he can do is hope Lilith can bring Sans home so they can have a proper one.

Settling in, Edge relaxes and prepares to wait. He’s patient, and he promised that he’d be here when she woke up, and that’s what he would do.

-

Crimson eyes slowly opened to pitch black around her, and her cheek is pressed against a weirdly smooth surface, that seems to _ripple_ around her. Lilith wakes up in a dark, warm room, not unlike the space that she woke up when Reaper found her, but more…comforting.

Yes, that’s what Lilith thinks this is. Comforting. Like she’s come home, it’s like when she wakes up in the morning and Sans has his arms wrapped around her ribs, cuddling into her. Soft and loving, just…

_Home._

Pushing herself up, she groans and rubs at her head. It doesn’t necessarily ache, but it feels full of cotton, like she can’t think straight. Its like the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, and she’s already physically exhausted, like she’s fought the war and it was time for sleep.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she feels something warm breathing on the back of her neck, hot and moist along the sensitive skin at her hair line, warmly blowing a lock of hair from her shoulder. She freezes, eyes wide and gleaming crimson as a weird calmness settles over her soul.

Something massive must be behind her, something that’s guarding Sans’s soul that’s breathing down the back of her neck. Her mind goes to the massive Gaster blasters, the colossal bone constructs with tall spiraling horns and snapping jaws, that protect Sans and act on his will.

Tension coils through her, and she reaches for magic, readying for a fight. Readying to run, where she has no idea, but to find Sans, that’s all she knew. She just needed to find him, and when she grit her teeth, she turned and readied for a fight. Nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ was going to stand between her and Sans. Not death, not Akkar, and certainly not a fucking Gaster blaster.

Lilith pushes herself to her feet, ready for a fight, _spoiling_ for one, only to still, and freeze, at what stares back at her.

It’s not a Gaster Blaster, not really, it’s far too small, but its staring back at her with wide, Sans blue eye lights and its about the size of a horse’s skull.

Its shaped like a cat’s skull, with wide, rounded orbits, deep dark sockets like Sans’s. Bright blue orbs of light float in the centre of the sockets, and it _blinks_ at her. There’s a crack up along the side of its face, like it’s taken damage, or bones that’s been sitting out in the sun too long, and its starting to cave in on itself. What should be its nose is too large and empty, and blue magic seems to seep from the crack in its face.

It seems to tilt its head at her curiously, its small teeth held loosely together, and she knows if the blaster where to _bite_ her, the long canines would tare through the muscle of her arm easily.

The cat blinks at her, and Lilith blinks back, frozen in time, body tense for an attack she’s _sure_ will come, when the tip of a blue tongue peeks out from between loose teeth. Shock isn’t the word Lilith would use to describe the feeling of a sudden pause of _everything._ She’s sure that even her heart has stopped, her breathing stopped as she stared at the cat skull before her, floating at eye level with a fucking blep, and her jaw drops a little.

“Really?” she asks the skull a little stunned, and it blinks at her slowly. She’s sure she read somewhere that if a cat blinks slowly at you, it was a sign of affection and familiarity, and somehow, that loosens something in Lilith.

She licks her teeth, “Okay.” She mutters, squaring up with the tiny blaster and reaches out a hand. Pressing the palm of her hand flat to the side of its muzzle, just above its canine tooth and the magic that buzzes back to her, feels like Sans. Like the little bit of core magic that he shoved into her soul to save her life, and something _eases._

The cat, the blaster, the cat blaster purrs, soft and rumbly like Sans would have as its sockets sink shut. Lilith smiles, soft and unguarded here, in the outer most layer of Sans’s soul, “Wholly shit.” She muttered, rubbing her thumb under the massive socket, and the magic brushes against her skin, “Figures. Sans would give me a cat.” She muttered, before she dropped her arm, turning away looking around the dark, tar like land scape.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, eyes narrowed on the nothingness around her, “Where are we.”

The skull purrs again, nudging her arm, and Lilith lifts her hand to pet along its jaw line, earning another, deeper purr as she looks around the desolate land scape, “If this is the outer layer of his soul.” She says slowly, as it clicks, and she raises a brow, “This is Sans’s first defense mechanism. _Nothing._ ”

It makes sense, in a weird way. When she thinks hard, focuses on Frisk’s hazy memories, Sans’s last-ditch effort, his last try to stop Chara, had been to trap her by stalling the fight. To do nothing, forever trapped in an unwinnable fight.

This was a trap, a trap of nothing, should anything unwanted get to this point, it had no where else to go. They couldn’t go further, not if they weren’t invited.

Yet, Lilith had been, and when she turns to the derpy little cat skull, its silly little blip and she frowns at it, her soul oddly singing to the blaster, “Do you know how to get out of here?” she asks it softly, voice a little on edge, feeling stupid as the think blinks at her.

She has no idea if that’s a yes or no, but what else does she have to lose?

“Can you show me?” she asks softly, eyes narrowing a little as it blinks at her and purrs. She nods, feeling a little stupid (and that was the point here, wasn’t it? Everything Sans did was to make the enemy feel stupid, until he was certain they were on his side.)

The skull trills like a cat, and its massive maw opens only enough to grip at her clean, dry t-shirt with its front teeth, and starts to pull. Lilith follows along, first hesitantly, but this is for _Sans_ , so she moves with determination, and doesn’t question where the skull is taking her.

She has been, after all, invited.

The ground under her feet echoes hollowly, like she’s walking on a concrete floor in an empty room, and nothing moves. Just solid, shiny black, like sticky tar that doesn’t seem to touch her, until the floor suddenly gives out under her.

She gasps as she falls through a sudden liquid square, one in a billion, and if the skull hadn’t taken her here, she never would have found this one, tiny trap door. Her stomach drops in the weird feeling of weightlessness as she falls, passing through the tar that’s cold as ice, wet but not at the same time, and she falls into Snowdin.

Instinct kicks in, and Lilith takes a sharp breath as she falls through the not-quite water and holds her breath as to not inhale the near liquid; she lands hard on her feet, knees bent with a shockwave that seems to rattle her teeth as she hits a snow poff.

Still crouched, hands flat to the ground like a feral animal, Lilith looks around, eyes narrowed and looking for a threat that isn’t there. The threat that isn’t coming, not in Sans’s soul, she was safe here, but instinct is a hard thing to fight, and its nearly impossible to keep it contained.

Her head is on a swivel, scanning the area as the skull lowers itself mildly, blinking at her as if _she_ were the weird one.

Which, okay is probably fair.

Lilith takes a breath, pushing herself to her feet, glancing upwards to the solid black ceiling above her and see’s the protective wall for what it was. You had to know your way around Sans to get here or have a guide who _happened_ to have the cheat codes. 

She sighs and looks to the skull, “You could have warned me.” She mutters a little bitterly at it, and it blinks mildly at her, unbothered and unmoved by her plight.

Lilith sighs again, a little annoyed at it before she looks around Snowdin slowly, and feels a shiver of unease go up her spine. It’s empty and dead, like it would have been after a run where Chara was running shot gun in Frisk’s body and everyone was gone.

It’s _wrong_ and she doesn’t understand why Sans’s soul would be this empty. He should be full of life and memories, and not…so hurt.

That makes something pang in her own soul, makes it call out to his, something calling for Sans more effectively then her voice would ever had been. She feels a tug, making her spin towards Waterfall, like something had reached into her chest and was insistently pulling her and she knows its him. It’s Sans, and she leans into the feeling a little more.

She can feel the ache that doesn’t belong to her here, the fear, his want to live, his desire for her to live fiercer then his own self preservation. It steels something in Lilith’s soul, fills her with determination and anger, as her hands ball into fists before they relax at her sides. Her hands open, as if she’s ready to grab a weapon at the first sign of trouble.

When she marches, it isn’t the same hesitated exploration of the blank, empty world above, but a march, a dare to the universe to stop her as she follows that pull in her soul. Her hips sway with confidence, her arms in time as if she’s marching on a battlefield, and she can practically taste the violence in the air. The will to survive, and she knows, outside all of this, Felix and Edge are with her, keeping her safe.

She isn’t alone, and neither is Sans.

Magic fills her, truly fills her, for the first time, and Snowdin _comes alive_.

It startles her at first, as ghostly memories start to play on a reel around her, but it doesn’t slow her down. She doesn’t have time to walk down memory lane _-and if she lives, she needs to tell Sans that one-_ she needs to find Sans before his body gives out.

She strut through his memories like she had any right to be there, ignoring everything around her, not getting caught up in his hazy, dazed memories and the ghosts of the past. She can see through the people around her, these spectres are dim knockoffs of the people they really are.

It’s like Sans had never bothered to memorize their faces, that they weren’t important enough to remember in Snowdin.

All save a few.

There are memories of Papyrus, where he’s bright and happy, shining like the diamond he is. Frisk too, holding Sans’s hand as he walks her through town.

But when she sees the first memory of _her_ , through Sans’s eyes, she shines brightly, almost like a doppelganger, painfully bright and alive. That gives her pause, her mouth falling open as she stares at herself looking at Snowdin for the first time.

She’s unnaturally bright, her crimson eyes glittering brilliantly from her pale face, and fuck if her freckles don’t actually seem to _sparkle,_ at least to Sans they did. She’s like a refreshing bolt of color in this dim, grey world, and it makes Lilith frown.

_It’s like…a Christmas display or something._

The very words she spoke forever ago, echo oddly around her, and the cat skull at her elbow purrs loudly. Lilith looks to Sans, and feels her heart ache when she sees the memory of pain forever etched into his face, the agony she had missed her first trip into Snowdin, and looking at it now, she wonders how the fuck she had missed it.

How had Lilith missed Sans falling apart _already_ wen she landed in the underground?

Even in his memory, he’s grey and hurting, sad looking as he shivers, and she wonders what cruelty Chara is whispering in his ear.

Something moves in her soul, it’s not determination, its stronger, fiercer, more _vicious_. A need that she can’t explain, and she turns away from the memory to walk briskly down Snowdin’s main street.

More memories follow, and around her, she sees herself through Sans’s eyes. Always, she’s a bright spot of warmth and color.

She sees herself holding his hand outside of Grillby’s the first time she saw him succumb to Chara’s words, saw his self confidence crumble. She’s still the brightest point in this memory as Lilith watches herself squeeze his hand, her words slow and monotone.

_Sans I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. Or hold your hand._

She had not been embarrassed to be seen with Sans, not once, not ever and she softens at this memory. It was the first time they were really starting to bond, and left the fighting in the woods.

Lilith shakes herself out, she has to keep moving, and pulls herself away from the memory.

Memories, like dreams, were a little weird, a little out of order here and Lilith can’t be sure if that was just Sans or if this was a defense mechanism. They float by, like they’re in little rooms she can peer into, getting more clear and out of order the closer to Waterfall she gets.

_First of all, battle mage puppy piles, are the best puppy piles. Don’t kid yourself. Secondly, yes. Cuddle until everything stops hurting. It helps maintain bonds with us, makes us feel better_

That’s the one where she held him after their first visit to Grillby’s, they’re stretched out on the couch, curled awkwardly together, and Lilith frowns when she again, sees how bright she is compared to everything else. She sticks out too bright, like she doesn’t belong here.

_That’s better. I like your smile better then you being sad._

She’s touching his face, wiping away his tears from his stunned expression, and he’s leaning ever so slightly into her touch, and her own expression is soft. Had she always been this soft with him? Has she been like this from the start?

Lilith moves on, passes through more memories, eases deeper into his soul, and when she finds the moment that she held him in the aftermath of his rape, how he shuttered and cried, and clung to Lilith, it takes her breath away.

The memory is in vibrant color, always bright and hot in his mind with the trauma of it, vivid against the stark dull grey around them, and Lilith has to look away. She can’t watch it, not again and her soul feels heavy. She knows she barely got him through that, barely held him together as he broke apart in her arms.

_It’s okay Sans, I’ve got you. I got you. Just relax, let go. I’ve got you love. It’s okay._

She had got him through that with her words, she got him through it by holding him together until they fought their way to the surface.

She sees him in the hotel room that she and Undyne had taken him too, how she held him as he dried out from the drugs that Oliva pumped into his body. She watches how he clings to her, and she not once falters. She sees how fucking bright she is, like she’s a star in his dim, grey world.

Its not until she finds the memory of their first soul healing, that she stalls. Lilith watches how Sans pinned her down, linked their hands as he pressed their souls together. She watched how she arched into his touch, and how in awe Sans was, despite the agony he must have been feeling with the massive crack in his soul.

She’s bright in the grey, dim room, and the memory of her soul is like a super nova, warm and lush, and the room seems to pulse with colour when she whispers back, _I love you too Sans._

It’s then, and only then, does she get it. Why she stands out in all his memories here, why she’s so bright.

She _is_ San’s bright spot. His splash of colour in an otherwise unfeeling and cruel world. She’s his north star, his glittering memory in a time of darkness and depression.

Lilith feels her heart swell and her soul ache, “Oh Sans.” She whispered, clutching at her shirt just over her heart and she feels the pull again. She never gets any closer to Waterfall but she knows she’s close to Sans.

She turns to the cat skull, with its gleaming, bright blue eye lights, and it seems to tilt its head at her. “Do you know where he is?”

The skull purrs and looks directly down. It glances back up at her, then down again, like it was saying ‘ _duh.’_ And it makes Lilith want to laugh, because of course.

Sans never was good at traps.

Good luck to Ryder if he ever wants to soul bond with Papyrus. Then again, she’s certain Paps would march his happy ass into Ryder’s soul and that would be that.

Taking a breath, Lilith refocuses and takes a step out over the spot that the skull nodded to, and this time is ready for the fall. She’s expecting the feeling of weightlessness.

What she isn’t ready for is the feeling of her body turning blue with a merry little _ting_ and she’s suddenly yanked upwards. She goes limp like a rag doll in a child’s hand as she’s pulled upwards hard, like she’s falling in reverse through a mirror.

And…alright she’ll give that one to Sans. That was a pretty good trap.

She lands awkwardly, back in a dark, pitch black room, like she was pulled through dark water, and somehow seemed to be floating just over the gentle rippling waves. The dark water doesn’t touch her, but where her feet touch the dark waves, the water glows a soft blue magic, anchoring her to this world.

Holding her to Sans.

Around her is darkness, rippling water and nothing. Yet her guide trills happily at something behind her, like a cat chattering at it’s favorite human and Lilith knows.

She knows Sans is there, and when she spins, the water doesn’t move under her light feet, and relief fills her to see him.

Sans is sitting in the centre of a dark ocean of water. The water rocks and crashes around him, like it’s trying to swallow him whole, like its sucking the life from him. Even from where she is, Sans looks _hurt._ Sad as he sits crossed legged over the water that’s trying to drown him, his elbows against his knees and his skull in his hands.

She knows he’s hurting; she can see it in the way his shoulders hunch, the way his spine bends. Every line in his body is screaming that he’s in pain, and even the ivory of his bones seems dull here. Drained away, and when Lilith looks at her hands, she _glows_ likes she’s bathed in moon light.

She frowns, feels that weird, bruised place ache when she realizes that even now, she was his bright spot. She was worth sacrificing his life for, and he’s accepted the fact that he’s going to die here.

She realizes too, that Sans is her bright spot, and if he’s going down then so is she.

Her hand squeeze into fist, and she thinks _fuck that_ , they’re going to live today.

She moves towards him, the ocean calming around her, lighting up in bright blue magic at every step she takes, soothing the water. The blue magic ripples outward, until it almost touches him, lighting up the dark, dim space with her presents, and that’s when she sees it.

The biggest Blaster she’s ever seen. It’s massive, with huge spiraling horns and scared from battle. Half of its skull is damaged, its right eye light is dim and the socket caved partially in. The teeth on the left side of its face are broken and damaged, like someone had punched the massive creature, leaving it damaged and broken,

_The Judge_ something whispers in her soul. The broken Judge, and even it couldn’t tolerate Asgore’s order, then it left Sans alone with the fall out of their actions and let him see far too much.

Lilith should be angry at it, bitter that it did what it did, but she can’t. Not in the face of it and its damage, just as broken by what Asgore did to it. She can’t hate it when its here with Sans so he wouldn’t have to die alone, she can’t hate it when it tried to protect him.

The cat skull purrs and trills again, rushing to the broken Judge, rubbing happily against the left side of its mandible, purring loudly against it.

The Judge watches her, but doesn’t try to stop her as she approaches and the ocean around them calms and the darkness brightens with pale, silvery moon light.

Lilith feels her chest tighten and her throat thicken when she finally says, “Sans?”

He startles, like he hasn’t seen the space around him begin to glow, hasn’t seen the water calm, and when he looks up at her, his sockets widen and his eye lights flair to super nova’s, “Lilith?” he asked her weakly as his eye lights suddenly went wobbly and weak. Lilith breathes out a shaky, wet sigh, and offers him a weak smile, and something eases inside her chest as the tension starts to leek away.

“I’ve been looking for you.” She tells him, and Sans offers her the same crooked, weak and watery smile.

There’s horror in his expression suddenly, a fear so real that Lilith can feel her soul ache. His skull seems to pale, and he looks suddenly upset, panicked even, “You shouldn’t be here.” He whispers, sounding choked and in pain.

Lilith takes another step towards him, and Sans swallows hard as fear starts to creep into his expression, “Lilith you shouldn’t be here.” He tells her again as she comes another step closer, dropping to her knees so that hers brush against his. He looks at her frantically, looking for injury he knows she had, and his voice creeks weakly when he speaks, “You can’t be here. I don’t want you to die.” Tears line his sockets in his sudden grief, “How are you even here?”

Taking a breath, Lilith reaches for him, frowning a little when Sans flinches away from her, to cup his cheeks softly. Her thumb brushing away his tears, and she tries to sooth his sorrow, “Sans, we are not dying today.” She’s so confident, so _sure_ , that there isn’t another option.

Sans lets out a shuttering breath, and lets his sockets sink shut as he leans into her hands, “Lilith.” He whispers her name like a prayer, followed by a frustrated whine.

She hushes him softly, drawing Sans into a warm, soft kiss, sighing softly into his mouth. It takes little encouragement for Sans to part his teeth and allows Lilith to roll her tongue over his to deepen their kiss, and it’s soft and warm. There’s no desperation, despite all that had happened to them. They break apart slowly, reluctantly, so that Lilith can nuzzle her mouth against his cheek, and Sans reaches up to grasp at her shirt desperately.

“I’m not going to let you die.” Lilith promised him softly, her mouth moving against the polished ivory bone of his skull, and it makes him huff softly against her skin, “I’m not.” She says again, and this time she can’t stop her smile that’s gently nuzzled against his cheek, “I’m here to bring you home Sans.”

His laugh is a little watery, and Sans finally relaxes against her, “I should have known better then to think you wouldn’t come for me.”

Lilith hums her agreement against his bones, and she takes a moment to just _hold_ him. Just enjoying the feeling of his body, even if it’s the projection of himself in his soul, against hers. She pulls him into a harder hug, one that Sans allows himself to be pulled into willingly, so that he’s in her lap, loose against her body. He buries his face into her shoulder, and she does the same, nosing against his throat as his arms circle around her back to grip at her shoulders.

“You should have known better.” She agreed with him, taking a deep breath through her nose against his bones, “We’re very good at saving each other.”

The Judge and the weird cat skull float near by, hovering like sentinels around them, acting like they have all the time in the world and that Sans’s body isn’t dusting in her arms. That thought gives Lilith a much-needed push, they, Sans, doesn’t have much time.

“Love.” She tells him gently, still holding him tightly, “We need to go.” She doesn’t panic him, keeps the urgency out of her tone as she holds him.

Sans shakes his head against her shoulder and his hands tremble, “Lilith, you don’t know what I’ve done.” He tells her quietly, “There’s no coming back from this. My soul.” His voice is weak with acceptance, and Sans already knows what the outcome here is going to be.

Lilith shakes her head against his skull, “I know what you did.” She told him, not unkindly but firm, “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were _dead_!” he hissed into the broad part of her shoulder, his mouth pressed into her skin, “You were dead, and it wasn’t fair.”

She doesn’t argue with that, and she lets him talk, “You were worth the sacrifice, and I would do it again.”

Taking a breath, Lilith holds him a little tighter, “I love you too.” She whispers like a secret against his skull, “And now it’s my turn.” She pulls away from their hug reluctantly, greeting his confused look with a surprisingly gentle grin, “If we bond our souls, yours to mine, you’ll live.”

Sans blinks at her, and Lilith watches his grief turn to horror, “No.” he spits immediately.

Lilith feels her heart sink, and she frowns at him, “Sans.”

“No.” he tells her again, trying to pull away from her hold, trying to put distance between them. Around them the Judge and the…baby Judge still and their skulls tilt, “No, I won’t take you down with me. Lilith this will kill you, I won’t kill you, I won’t.”

Panic fills him and Lilith can hear it crystal clear in his voice, and can see it in the way he pulls away from her and she shakes her head no. Reaching for him, she cups his face again, speaking softly like she was talking to an injured animal.

Oddly, it reminds her of the war, when they were being hit with artillery fire and they hunkered down in trenches and holes, waiting for the spells to dissipate so they could push on, waiting for a break in the fire to move on.

She remembers a time that one of the Valkyrie under her command had been shot out of the sky with her Pegasus. The rider had screamed the whole fall down, the war horse’s wings burnt and tattered, and the girl had died the moment she hit the ground.

The horse, however, survived, and Lilith had dragged it near dead to her trench much to Felix’s horror. They waited out the artillery fire and attack with the terrified creature, its head in her lap while she hunched over it and spoke soft reassuring words to it.

She walked that fucking horse all the way back to her Coven, had broken the nose of the first fucker who even mentioned of turning the horse into glue. Although she never flew again, she had stayed by Lilith’s side until the end of the war and she was retired with the Valkyrie. She died of old age in the end, grazing in pastures, lazy and happy, as Lilith would have wanted her to be.

Talking to Sans now, was a bit like that. She spoke to him in a soothing, gentle voice, hushed as to not startle him, and when Lilith held him, it was firm and careful, “Sans, no. Listen to me. That’s not going to happen.”

He’s shaking his head no as fresh tears line his sockets, and he weakly struggles in her hold, as Lilith keeps speaking to him, “Listen to me. Sans,” he stops struggling, and Lilith knows she doesn’t have much time before he pitches her out of his soul, “I can take it.”

“Lilith.” He moans her name, heartache swallowing him again, and he looks at her reluctantly, but Lilith is shaking her head at him again.

“You know I can. You know I can bare the load, until you get back on your feet.” She pauses, looking for the right words to have him understand, “Trust me Sans. I can get us through this. I just need you to trust me.”

That gets him to still, and really look at her, “But what if I take you down with me?”

“You won’t.” Lilith doesn’t even entertain the idea that she would let him down, that they would die, and she gives him a weak grin, “I’m filled with determination.”

Sans breaks a little, gives her a shaky, hysterical laugh, as tears fill his sockets and run down his cheeks, “Do you really want to be tied to me forever?” he askes weakly through the wedge in his throat.

When Lilith smiles, its’ small but real, “I wouldn’t be here otherwise love.” She pauses and draws him in for another kiss before she murmurs against his teeth, “I love you.” Sans shivers at her words, and Lilith goes in for the proverbial kill, “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

A full body tremble rolls through him, and finally, _finally_ , Sans nods, “Okay.” He tells her weakly.

He doesn’t believe she’s doing this, no one in their right mind would ever choose him, he’s nothing, not really. _~~And yet, Lilith always chose him, didn’t she?~~_

“Come with me Sans.” She gives another smile, small and the kindness in her brown eyes thaws the coldness there, and all that love is for Sans.

He has no defense against this, no way he could possibly say no and he finds himself nodding helplessly with her words, “Okay.”

He’s terrified, horrified that he’s going to ruin her, drag her down with him and doom her along with him. Yet, Lilith is so fucking sure of herself, Sans _has_ to believe her.

“Okay.” He says again, and had he had the guts to let her go, he’d have given her finger guns for good measure.

_~~Heh, he doesn’t have guts, and when they weren’t both half a step into the grave, he’ll tell her that one.~~ _

Lilith smiles against his teeth, and she pulls him tighter. The ocean around them brightens with soft blue and crimson magic, _patience and determination¸_ as the waters seem to reach up for them, twinning round them like tentacles, but neither are afraid.

Someone whispers _I love you_ , and someone whispers it back, but neither are sure who said it and who returned it as the water turns almost oily, and starts to pull them down.

Lilith presses in for another kiss, soft and claiming, Sans opening to it, deepening it as they’re plunge beneath the surface, where it’s warm and safe.

There’s no pain here, no terror, just them, and the warm that surrounds them until they don’t know where Sans ends and Lilith begins.

And for a while at least, it feels like that bright spot in both of their lives. It feels like home.


	42. Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Lilith wake up, while Nightmare has a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Happy New Years, I hope you have all had a safe and wonderful holiday season. This is the first update of the new year, and I hope you enjoy it. :) No warnings here, just a lot of feel good fluff. 
> 
> For now at least :) 
> 
> Again, thank you to Kate for this wonderful prompt idea, I hope you've enjoyed the ride thus far! And thank you to all my readers who have stuck with this story so far. It means so much to me :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Lilith starts to claw her way back to the world of consciousness, she knows she’s home, and in the infirmary. The bed is too stiff and narrow to be her own, the smells around her are wrong and sterile, and far too strong. The blanket that’s tucked around her is itchy and hot, and it’s clearly from a hospital.

Still half out of it and not truly awake, she tries to kick it off, but her legs won’t function right, won’t respond to how they should, and they feel like they’re made of led. Exhaustion swells through her, and the darkness of sleep sticks to her mind like something tacky.

She manages to shift a little and feels a burst of affection when she feels something, _someone_ , in her arms, and there’s a glide of smooth ivory bones against her pale skin. She knows, _knows,_ it’s Sans, and he’s warm and safe in the bed with her. He’s _whole_ , after his brush with death.

_~~Or at least, as whole as he could be, after sacrificing his hand for her.~~ _

It means she fucking won. She spat in the face of Death and told Fate to fuck off, _dared_ the universe to try her. If Sans is in her arms, it means he’s alive.

“Oh shit.” A rough, small voice says next to her, and Lilith pulls herself out harder from the dark swamp of unconsciousness at the dead voice. It’s more monotone then even hers, and she knows that Crow is sitting next to her, “I think Lilith’s waking up.”

“Should we go get Edge?” another rough voice asks, happier than Crow’s and Gore’s voice, her _Den mate’s_ voice helps pull her out of the inky tar.

Someone laughs, its rough and amused, and it soothed a sharp edge in Lilith’s soul, and Ripper sounds delighted, “Fuck no. This will be funny as fuck.”

“Heh.” Crow huffs in that dry, raspy laugh of his, “He’s going to be so bitter.” And he almost sounds delighted.

That pulls Lilith more from her dark cave, and her tongue feels thick when she slurs out, “Tha’s no’ nice.” She lets go of Sans to roll over towards Crow, but she clings to his wrist still and fights to get her eyes open.

The three fall silent at her heavy words, and Lilith can feel their eye lights on her, like they’re urging her to open her eyes.

“Lilith?” Ripper calls her name like a question, “You alive?”

It’s softly asked, for a moment the timber of his voice softens to something that’s Sans, and it makes her smile lazily at the ceiling. Her eyes are still closed and she’s fighting to get them open, “Well.” She swallows and her throat is dry, “Wat’s the point of being called Death if ya can’ meet your name sake once in a while.” Her tongue still feels thick, her mouth stuffed with cotton, but another swallow helps clear the wedge in her throat as the three monsters near her bed chuckle.

She forces her eye lids open, and the room around her spins and her vision is dim. She takes another breath and grips at Sans’s wrist a little tighter as she blinks her eyes clear. The room around her straightens out, and slowly, so slowly her vision clears and sharpens. Lilith’s head lolls weakly on the pillow under her skull, and she can’t reflect the trio of grins that are beaming at her.

Ripper, Crow and Gore are all grinning at her, broken as they are, they look delighted briefly that she’s awake and her soul eases when their souls sing to her. It’s a confusing, messy melody that makes Lilith smirk weakly at them, and her own soul sings back to theirs.

The delight is there and gone between one blink and the next, the softness in their expressions melting into amusement in Gore and Ripper, and neutral into Crow.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, you crazy fuck!” Ripper tells her brightly, and Lilith can only grin weakly at him.

“Thanks.” She breathes out a deep sigh, and even that seems to take a lot out of her.

She tilts her head back to where she felt Sans, needing to see him, needed confirmation that he was alive, and grins when she does. He’s still asleep, his face pressed into the stiff pillow, his soul still summoned and thin plastic tubes feed him magic directly to his soul, but he’s soft in his sleep.

There’s no hint of pain in his expression, simply the gentleness of sleep, and he’s breathing softly as he lays on his side, his right hand gone and a bandaged stump, but his left is loose where Lilith holds him weakly.

She lays there for a moment, just watching him sleep, grins weakly at his smooth bones, his expression relaxed and gentle. A wave of emotions threatens to knock what calm she has managed to gather out from under her, and Lilith feels tears prickle at the corners of her eyes when she thinks how close she came to losing him.

The bed at her knee dips, and Gore settles in next to her, one leg folded neatly under his light weight while his other leg draped along the edge of the bed. He grins at her and settles in, “He’s okay Lil. Lola said so.” He told her gently, with such reverence, that Lola was right, believed in her so much, that the thought that she’d be wrong isn’t one he entertains.

He believes in Lilith so much, he knew she’d bring Sans home, knew it the moment she woke from her death sleep and declared she was going after him.

“Yeah.” Lilith whispers weakly, tries to tighten her grip on his wrist, but she doesn’t have the strength. She isn’t sure she can remember a time she felt so weak, so powerless, and her instinct settles to have Den mates near by, “Lola’s never wrong.”

Gore nods, beaming happily as Lilith takes a deep breath, like she’s gearing herself up to fight before she struggles to sit up. She can barely get her body to respond, and Crow is at her side instantly, his hands under her elbow and turning her soul blue.

He yanks her up hard, rather then a gentle guiding, setting her against the wall. Lilith winces at the rough treatment, but when he looks at her with hopefully wide sockets and a puff of bright pink smoke from his mask, Lilith can only offer a weak grin, “Thanks Crow.”

He looks down immediately, and she can see the tops of his cheeks turning blue in a blush as he sits carefully down with a nod, folding his hands neatly in his lap. It makes Lilith smile at him, but she doesn’t have the energy to reach out to comfort him.

Whereas Gore and Crow were careful as they could be with her, Ripper had no such qualms as he flopped down on the bed between her and Gore, laying across her legs on his belly. His head is tilted towards her, and his legs are draped lazily over Sans.

Lilith knows what the lazy sprawl he’s put himself in for what it really is, and can see the defensive posture from a mile away. That too, makes something soften in her soul, something sharp smooth out that she’s safe, and she doesn’t have to be on guard right now, even with an injured soulmate.

_~~Because her Den is fierce and deadly, and if anything comes through that door that isn’t family, its going to die a horrible, bloody death.~~ _

Ripper settles in, his chin in his hands, his cane against the bed and he grins up at her, “You want water?”

Lilith blinks at him, its such a normal question and one she doesn’t expect from Ripper. Its not how he usually shows he cares, but, this had been the closest any of them have come to death before, so Lilith is willing to give him this one. No doubt the Den and Crew were going to be raw about this whole thing for a while, “Yeah. Thanks Rips.”

He grins at her before tilting his head to Crow, giving him an expectant look that makes Lilith huff a weak, dry laugh when she realizes what he’s asking for.

It makes Crow sigh and roll his eye lights, but he pulls a bottle from his inventory and hands it to her. He ends up having to crack the seal of the lid and hold her shaking hands to help her drink, but this isn’t the _first_ time Lilith’s been near death.

It’s been a while, but she remembers the drill, and lets them pamper her a little bit. And well, if they’re all feeling a little raw at seeing her nearly die and Sans nearly dust, she can stand a tiny bit of babying.

“How long have I been out?” she asks once she’s had a few mouthfuls of water and moisture returns to her dry mouth.

She’s taking another mouthful of water when Ripper hums and kicks his legs up like they were teenagers gossiping, “Hmmm, four days.”

Lilith’s heart stalls as she chokes on the water, and Ripper is lucky he doesn’t end up wearing it, “What!” she manages weakly, and gets three nods in return, “Fuck.” She hisses, and sighs deeply, “Alright. What have I missed?” she _needs_ a status update.

Ripper looks _delighted_ by her question, “Depends on what you want to know.”

Lilith gives him a _look_ that he’s already become immune to, “Everything.”

“Hmmm.” Ripper hums again, his legs swinging behind him as he taps his teeth, “Well. Who do you want a status update on?” that earns him another annoyed look, and he looks like he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world, “Felix? The whole Error, Reaper, Boss bull shit that’s been going on? Red? Fucking _Edge_?”

It’s the way he said Edge’s name that has Lilith raising a brow at him, “What happened to Edge?”

Ripper positively _beams,_ “Well!” he tells her with relish, and Lilith has to remind herself that Rips is dangerous, probably the more dangerous of the three as the team’s sweet talker, the one who could appear _normal._

He’s _her_ teammate.

“Edge is a fucking moron.” He tells her happily, like this is the best piece of gossip he’s had in days and he’s finally getting to share it with someone, “And when he promised to stay with you until you woke up, he took it to heart. Now, Felix assigned the three of us to stay with you, as a last line of defense, just in case.” He grins up at her, like this was the funniest thing in the world to him, “The fucking way he’s got this place on lock, the fucking mail man couldn’t get near without tripping over one of us or hostile magic.” And he rolls his near pitch-black eye lights.

It makes Lilith grin, because of course her brother did, one of his was down.

“So,” Ripper continues, “I dunnno what the ‘just in case’” and he does finger quote around the words, “is, but when a six-foot battle mage who’s backed by _Wine_ , tells you to guard his half dead sister, you don’t ask questions.”

“That’s fair.” Lilith agrees.

Ripper hums and nods, “Yeah. Keep drinking water.” He tells her, and with a smirk, Lilith does, “So. We were to guard the room, Edge guarded you and Gaster looked over Sans. Once Sans started to stabilize, we sent him away to rest. The rest of us _took turns_ guarding you because we’re not fucking morons.”

Lilith can see where this is going, and chances are she’s going to have to yell at Edge later. “Your boyfriend however,” Ripper tells her with a grin, and Lilith doesn’t correct him, but she hides her grin with another mouthful of water, “Decided he wasn’t going to eat or sleep, because, I don’t fucking know? Reasons?”

Lilith snorted, and swallowed her water, “How long did he last?”

Ripper grins, “I’ll give it to him, starving in Underfell was good training, but he’s stressed as fuck and Red’s been giving him a hard time, so three days before he passed _out._ ” And he looks thrilled by this, “Felix was pissed! Yelled at him when he came too even. Felix was so mad that he’d not been taking care of himself, went on a ten-minute rant about how in war, if you didn’t take care of yourself, you’d let your teammates down. Blah, blah, blah.” Ripper grins, “Even Boss backed off and let Felix go in on him, and I didn’t think the Justice soul had it in him.”

Lilith nods, leans her head back against the wall at her back, and reaching for Sans, “Felix was the one to go to when you needed to fortify a building. There’s no one better, and he takes guard duty seriously, he didn’t let anyone fuck around on _his_ base.” Lilith shrugs weakly, “Granted, Felix was always sent to run the most at risk bases, but he doesn’t fuck around.” She grinned, “But when he was under someone else’s command in a safe zone, he was a shit.”

Ripper looks like he’s living his best life when he grins at her, “No shit Lilith. I’ve never seen a human so mad, and I’ve never seen _anyone_ yell Edge into submission. It was _amazing_.” He swings his feet, “So once ‘Lix calmed the fuck down, he made out a sleeping and eating schedule, so we don’t burn ourselves out. Came with _very_ strict orders not to fuck with it. ‘s why Edge isn’t here now, he’s scheduled to eat, and _none_ of us are defying Felix right now.”

Lilith grins, “No doubt.” She gives him a shrewd look and rose a brow at him, “But shouldn’t you have gotten Edge when I woke up?”

Ripper gives her an innocent grin, “He never specified.”

“Besides.” Crow adds, drawing Lilith’s dull brown eyes, “We’ve been here too. We deserve bonding time just as much as he does.”

It makes Lilith grin, and her heart swell, “Thanks Crow.” And he goes blue again, and hides his face in his sweater, the smoke from his mask puffing a bright pink.

“Exactly!” Ripper agrees, “So, Edge’s been fine since the whole thing with Felix, and he’s been eating and sleeping since yesterday.” He nods towards a neatly made bed with a familiar comforter, “He’s been sleeping here too, just in case you woke up in the night.”

Lilith notices three other beds, unmade and clearly slept in, and she smirks at them when she realizes they’ve been sleeping here too. It makes softness and affection for her Den mates swell in her soul, and battle mage instinct purrs happily as Den magic hummed around them.

Her stomach rumbles unhappily suddenly, and hunger pangs through her, making her frown. They all look down at her belly as she lays a hand over her muscular stomach as hunger pains roll through her.

“Do you want some of my food Lilith?” Gore asks gently.

She knows food is a _thing_ with Gore. Knows he covets it, hides it and is always afraid they will run out despite their reassurances. She’s about to say no, she’s fine, when she sees the hopeful look in his sockets, and Lilith softens.

Crow is offering protection and Ripper has information, this is what Gore has. His contribution is food, and to say no would be rude. Worse, it would hurt his feelings, when he wanted to help, when he was offering to share such a precious resource, that Lilith finds herself nodding, “Thanks Gore.”

She knows she hit her mark when Gore lights up in delight, and Ripper patiently waits for him to pull a small meat pie from his inventory and hands it to her. Lilith doesn’t ask where the meat came from, and that’s probably for the best as she peels the little tin away from the pastry.

She takes a bite, and warm juices fill her mouth. Flavor explodes, and her taste buds sing happily, and her happy moan makes Gore light up, “Do you like it?” he asks roughly, looking almost hesitant.

Lilith nods, “It’s good!” she relishes, finishing the pie quickly, and her stomach settles. Its not much, but she doesn’t want to push her stomach too much too soon, and lets it settle with a happy sigh. “That was really good Gore,” he looks so delighted, its like he’s beaming, “How did you keep it warm?”

She’s starting to feel better, just a little when Gore grins, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to Lilith.”

She pauses, raises a brow at him, and nods. That’s sage advice, and Lilith is going to take it, “Alright Rips. What’s up with Felix.”

“I never realized he’s a _terrifying_ force of utter boring, rule following bull shit.” Ripper huffs out as if he’s disappointed, and it makes Lilith puff a painful laugh.

“Yeah.” Lilith wheezes out, “About the only time he’s serious about anything is when he’s on guard duty. Then the fun and games are gone, and he’s a drill sergeant.”

Ripper nods along with her words, kicking his legs up behind him, “No shit. Don’t think I’ve seen him smile since you went under.”

“He’s worried about his sister.” Crow says almost absently, curling his legs up to sit cross legged on the chair, sitting between the door and her, and Gore nods along with him.

Ripper rolls his black eye lights, and they’re barely visible in the dim light of the infirmary, “He’s been running the compound like a military base. It’s _boring_. I mean, I thought Boss ran a tight ship, but fuck if Felix doesn’t give him a run for his money.”

Lilith offers a weak smile, “He’ll be better now that I’m awake. He’ll calm down and even out.”

Ripper huffs, “I fucking hope so.” He pauses, and grins, “’Though watching him yell at everyone else has been hilarious.”

Lilith sighs at his bright grin, and her eyes slide over to Sans when he shifts in his sleep. She pauses when she feels _something_ soft brush at her consciousness, more like an emotion that didn’t belong to her, and it takes her a moment to realize that she can feel _Sans’s_ contentment.

Awe washes over her, and it steals her breath as she watches Sans sleep.

Ripper pauses, “You good Lilith?” he pushes himself up a little, starting to look alarmed, “Should we get Lola?”

Lilith shakes her head no, still in a daze, “I can feel him.”

They all blink at her, before Ripper tilts his head like a curious dog, “Like. Feel Sans?” she nods, and they’re sockets widen before Ripper blurts out, “What’s it feel like? Can you hear him?”

Lilith shrugged, and squinted at Sans, feels the soft tangle of sleepy affection that brushed weirdly at her mind, “Affection.” She told them and her magic stirred, and when her eyes swell with dull ruby magic, there’s a hint of blue, misting into purple.

She pushes a little harder into the bond, the swell of emotion that belongs to Sans, and feels his happiness brush at her soul. She can feel _him_ in her soul, and she catches a fleeting thought before the feeling fades, “He’s dreaming about ketchup.” She tells them with a slowly growing grin.

They’re all staring at her a little stunned, when Crow mutters, “Wholly shit.”

Ripper shakes himself out, and when he grins at Lilith, it’s a little softer, and continues to kick his legs, “That’s fucked.” He tells her with a smirk, making Lilith roll her eyes, “It’s gonna be weird to have someone else in your head with you.”

She shrugs, and looks fondly to Sans, “It’ll take training. That’s all.” And it had all been for Sans, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Ripper snorts, “Spoken like a battle mage.” Lilith sticks her tongue out at him, making Ripper laugh.

“Well,” she sighs, feeling more energized as her magic begins to awaken a little more, feeding mostly into Sans, but feeling him _there_ helped her stabilize and she’s not feeling so exhausted, “What’s been happening with Error and Nights?”

The cruel smirk is back, “ _Well that._ ” And he laughs, “The short of it is this, Glitchy boy wants to get back in Boss’s good graces. Has been trying awfully hard to get some alone time with Nightmare, but Boss _isn’t_ having it.” His grin gets wider, “Which has been annoying Sloan, which in turn, annoys Felix. Which, you’d need a death wish to fuck with those two.”

Ripper pauses, and grins at her in light of her own brush with death, “No offence.”

Lilith waives him on, ignoring her own near-death experience. Ripper laughs at the implied _none taken,_ “And they’ve been dancing around each other since he and the cloudy boy fucking showed up. Pretty sure it’s making Boss _itchy_ as fuck to have Error around again, but we could use the support if Dream shows.” Ripper offers a rueful shrug, “So, he’s sucking it up and keeping those territorial instincts under wraps for you.” Lilith’s soul softens at that. She knew that Nightmare had his issues, knows emotions were hard for him, and it had _hurt_ when Error left the Crew.

It meant something that he was sucking it up for her.

Ripper sighs happily, like he’s been waiting for someone new to share this juicy gossip with, “Sloan and Sin have been running interference, which is only annoying Felix further, since we’re supposed to be on _high alert_.”

Ripper huffs out, sassy and faking annoyance, “It has been fun watching them dance around each other, and so far, there’s thirty to one odds of Nightmare snapping first. Twenty to one that its Error, and ten to one that Felix loses it first.”

Snorting, Lilith rolls her eyes, “I’ll put ten on Felix.”

The boys laugh, and she isn’t surprised when Ripper pulls out a little note pad to take her bet, and Lilith asks the question that’s been at the tip of her tongue since Ripper told her something was up, the question she asks hesitantly even now, “So. Red?”

He’s not here, wasn’t mentioned in being a guard with his brother, and he’d been so _angry_ before Lilith had made a desperate grab for Sans’s soul. She had a feeling she knew why he wasn’t there, and as Crow’s eye lights swell with bright purple, making his mask puff out dark, depressive magic and Gore’s eye light becomes a blob of angry red light, she thinks she’s right.

The grin on Ripper’s face becomes sharper, colder even with his anger, “He’s being a bitch.” He hisses softly, “He’s furious about everything. Snapping and taking it out on everyone in his blast radius.” 

Lilith frowns as Gore adds, “He’s been fight’n with Nightmare, and Felix, _and_ his brother.”

“He’s been fighting with everyone.” Ripper adds, annoyed and sharp.

“He’s blaming himself.” Crow adds quietly, but his eye lights still burn coldly with magic, “And he’s lashing out.”

“No shit.” Ripper snaps with a dramatic eye roll, “Doesn’t mean he gets to take it out on Crew. If he’s got an issue, do what we normally do, and fucking take it out else where.”

Lilith chews on her cheek, and worry rises in her chest, bubbling hotly to uncomfortable levels. Crow was right, she had seen his distress in every line of Red’s body, in his neutral expression and the tight way he held himself.

Red was hurting, in his own way. He watched her die, watched Sans nearly dust, watched her walk into what was probably a suicide mission and wasting Sans’s gift. He wasn’t expecting her to wake up, and all that death, all that destruction when they were supposed to be out for _him._

Of course Red was feeling guilty, and he didn’t have the vocabulary to tell anyone why he was so upset. She quietly curses Underfell for what it did to Red and Edge, and the moment Sans wakes up, they’re going to make this right.

Opening her mouth to ask something else, Lilith freezes when there’s another brush of Sans consciousness against her mind as he’s roused by her agitation. It makes her still and look towards him as he stirs a little, and his expression scrunches up. His sockets clench before they slowly blink open, and fuzzy wide eye lights blinks into the dim light of the room.

Lilith’s breath catches, and the others in the room go still when her voice softly warbles out, “Sans?”

His sockets close again in his exhaustion, and Lilith can feel more of her magic drain away as Sans sucked it back, and she’s disappointed for a moment when she feels his consciousness start to slip back under and into sleep.

“Sans?” she almost sounds desperate, desperate to _see_ that he’s okay, to know he’s fine. She just wants him to wake up, just for a moment so she can know he’s still with her.

Ripper pushes himself up, so he’s crossed legged at the end of the bed, leaning over her legs to poke at Sans’s arm. He glances up to her distressed expression and feels something soft shift in his near dead soul, “He’s okay Lilith.” He tells her for no other reason then she needs to hear it, “Lola said so.”

If anything, they trusted Lola.

Lilith gives him an uncharacteristically soft look, something delicate and so unlike Lilith it makes something dark shift in Ripper’s soul. Something territorial and cruel, it’s the same feeling he has for the Crew, _his people_ , for Nightmare, and broken spine or not, he’d kill for them.

He can comfort her a little, at least.

“Thanks Rips.” She tells him softly, and he gives her a toothy smile.

They’re both distracted when Sans groans again, there attention going back to Sans immediately, and Lilith feels his consciousness brush a little more firmly against her own. It’s full of sleepy affection and confusion, and Sans blinks his sockets open again.

His eye lights are dim and hazy, the edges soft and blurry, and his confusion grows when he blinks groggily at her before there is a burst of affection from his side of the bond, when his vision clears. It makes Lilith smile back at him with a desperate, hesitant laugh, and his side of the bond fills with earth shattering _love_ , and it makes something melt in Lilith’s soul.

It’s love in its most pure form, deep and real. A loyalty that can’t be bought but born of friendship and adoration, and its how Sans _feels_ about Lilith, “Heya evil mage.” He croaks weakly to her.

Lilith lets lose a weak hiccupping little laugh, but even Ripper doesn’t laugh at her for it. He figures that she gets one, after what they went through.

“Sans.” Her voice is weak with relief and croaks softly with emotion, and her side of the bond sings with the same love and devotion, and Sans’s grin widens into something soft. Tears lined his sockets and something thick wedges in his throat.

_Lilith._ His voice whispered against her mind, and was followed by a strange, wonderful tangle of emotions, that make Lilith laugh even as tears slip down her pale cheeks with relief.

She whispers his name again, both in their shared bond and aloud, reaching for him as he reached for her, and Lilith pulled him up. He collapsed into her arms, the clear little tubes that fed into his soul tangled around them as he clung to her just as desperately as Lilith clung to him, silently weeping into each other out of sheer, terrified relief.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her shoulder, his fingers clinging tightly to her shirt.

_Don’t be sorry._ She whispered back through their bond, flooding it with _affection/love/protection/love/adoration/love,_ and he sagged further into her hold.

“I’ve got you Sans. I’m right here, love.” She whispers into the top of his skull, and just _holds him._ She knows how close she came to losing this, loosing him, and she just holds him until he pulls away.

Sans doesn’t go far, and she can feel his delight and need, as he draws her back down for an intently deep, desperate kiss. He clings to her tightly, cups her cheek softly, and groans when his tongue slides against Lilith’s.

Pleasure and joy rush through Lilith when she moaned into their kiss, and she can feel Sans’s smile through his still falling tears, and his own rush of emotions joins hers.

For a moment, their bond sings as one, full and wonderful, and full of love. The bond hums with happiness, and for a moment, there’s a perfection in it.

“You two are disgustingly adorable.” Ripper huffs from the end of the bed, breaking their kiss with a devious smirk.

Gore sighs like he’s watching his favorite love story, “Yeah, they sure are.”

Ripper rolls his eye lights, before he returns his grin back to Sans, “Welcome back. Glad you’re not dead.”

Sans snorts, shifts so he’s leaning into Lilith’s side, “Big same.” And his grin becomes a little softer, “Thanks Rips.”

Ripper shrugs, “I mean, you’ve both got a flair for the dramatic, but fuck if you two aren’t really good at saving each other.”

Lilith snorts, and brushes at kiss at the top of his skull. _He’s right you know._ She tells him through their new bond, taking to it so easily, and she wonders if its because its with _Sans_ , that makes it so smooth.

_Yeah, I know._ He shrugs, and snuggles into her side, and she feels the swell of his exhaustion, _I miss much?_

Ripper sighs, “You both gonna do that weird thing where you’re speaking in the bond and we cant hear you?” 

They both blink at him, and Sans asks, _How much did I miss?_

Ripper sighs again, “I figured as much.” And pouts.

Despite her blank expression, Sans feels her swell of amusement, and he chuckles softly through their soul bond.

_I always knew you were a softy._

_It’s because I love you._ Lilith told him, and she thought about what he’d missed with his own near-death experience, _I kissed Edge._ She told him when she realized that Sans hasn’t yet comprehended, he had lost his hand, and she wants him to have this safe little bubble a little while longer.

His sockets widened and he gaps at her, even as their bond lights up with amusement and fondness, _Not fair!_ He all but gasps into their bond, _Why did you get to kiss him first?_

_I almost died first_ she tells him mildly, and Sans has enough experience with her bull shit, that he gets amused rather then offended, _Seemed fair._

_Fine._ He all but pouts, but Lilith can feel the sheer amusement in his soul, _That means I get to kiss Red first._ There’s a flush of hurt and sadness, that makes Sans sit up a little straighter, _What’s wrong with Red?_

There’s a hint of desperation that makes Lilith’s own soul swell with hurt, _He’s not doing well. He took the whole thing really hard. We have a lot of damage control to manage when we’re a little more up._

“Okay, seriously, you two can actually talk.” Ripper huffed, sounding annoyed that he was missing out on potential gossip.

Sans offers him a hesitant grin as an apology and a shrug, as he lifts his right hand to scratch at his face and freezes. Lilith feels her heart stop as panic and fear flood their bond as Sans stares at the stump where his hand used to be for the first time.

Lilith immediately floods the bond with love and support, calming wave after calming wave to his soul. Soothing him immediately, almost overwhelming as she eased him. Her hands went to his cheeks softly, cupping his face as her thumb brushed under his socket.

“Sans.” She says his name firmly, drawing his shaky, wobbly eye lights to her, “It’s okay.” Grief floods his side of their shared bond as bitter tears well in his sockets. Ripper stiffens and frowns at the end of the bed but stays quiet. An unexpected kindness afforded only to hurting Crew mates.

Sans’s breath hiccups a little as he nods, leaning into Lilith’s side of the bond, its like a gentle pressure in her soul, and she gently pushes back.

“It’s okay.” She tells him again, pulling him into a hug, careful to not pull the tubing of magic from his soul, “We’ll call Dom. We’ll get it fixed up, I promise. You’re okay.”

He nods against her, clinging onto her with his left hand, his fingers curled tightly into her shirt. It takes time to calm Sans down, to help ease his grief and upset, but Lilith does it with a practised ease of someone who has loved Sans for a long time.

She rocks him softly, uses their new bond to touch his soul and remind him how loved and wonderful he was. That she was there, and it was okay. It’s a slow, careful process, that Gore, Ripper and Crow watch on with awe until the only thing left of his tears is a lingering dampness at his sockets and the occasional sniffle.

Sans rubs at his skull with a corner of the blanket, and he gives the trio a weak smile, “Sorry.”

Crow looks at him with confusion, like he doesn’t understand why Sans is sorry or for what, while Ripper looks down and away, uncomfortable with the display of emotion.

Yet, Gore grins at him and scratches at the hole in his head, “It’s okay Sans.” He chirps brightly, “It takes time getting used to not being _hole_ anymore.”

Sans blinks at him, his eye lights flicking up to the chunk of missing skull in Gore’s head before they land back on his face with a smile, “Well, I’m glad I’m not _missing_ the point.” 

Lilith sighs inwardly when she feels Sans ease at the jokes, and that seems to help thaw Crow and Ripper too, and the conversation devolves into bad jokes about missing limbs from there.

It makes Sans feel better that they aren’t handling him with the kid gloves, and that he can joke about his missing hand. It makes things seem less scary.

The conversation flows on, washing over Lilith as she listens to the four of them talk, listens to Sans ask the question of what he missed when he was under, and is entertained all over again to hear Ripper re-tell the story of the last four days. Sans is as amused as she is, silently agreeing they were going to yell at Edge for being stupid and drag Red _somewhere_ and do _something_ to make him feel better.

Once the maximum level of gossip had been achieved, the conversation moved to the bond, and the three were absolutely delighted by it. Playing their version of broken telephone to see what Sans and Lilith could pass between each other, much to their delight.

It, of course and much to Lilith’s amusement, devolved into them getting Sans and Lilith to repeat dirty limericks aloud, so they could dissolve into fits of giggles and laughter. Sans was no better as the bond lit up in sheer amusement as he whispered from Ripper to Lilith through their souls.

Lilith didn’t get it, didn’t get why they thought it was funny for her to repeat it in her cold, monotone voice, but they died of laughter each time. The fan favorite had been ‘There was once a man named O’Doul. Who saw little red spots on his tool. His doctor, a cynic, said get out of my clinic! And wipe that lipstick off you fool.”

Gore had laughed so hard, he gasped silently for air, slapping his hand along his thigh at her flat, even voice, and even Crow’s eye lights lit up in delight. It’s the closest thing he has to a full belly laugh, and it makes Lilith feel light. Sans grins at her, giving her a slight side eye, the bond filling with a soft, airy feeling, and he whispers _You’re so soft_ into her soul.

It makes Lilith roll her eyes at him, but the bond hums softly.

Ripper wipes the tears from his sockets after he laughed so hard, he couldn’t breathe, “Okay, okay I got one.” He gives them a devious grin, and because he’s a jerk, he leans into Lilith and whispers in her ear.

She gives him a weird look, “Okay.” She tells him slowly, her dark eyes narrowed on him as she pushes the thought through to Sans.

Sans blinks at them as Lilith whispered through the bond to him, and his brow furrows, “Sans gained HoPe?” he asks slowly, sounding confused.

Lilith shrugged with a frown, before they both turn to Ripper’s grinning face, and Lilith’s expression turned frosty, “This is not how you’re telling us this.” She told him flatly.

Ripper’s grin went impossibly wide, flashing his fangs at them, and Sans huffs a sigh when Lilith can feel the prickle of a check wash over her.

“Your stats haven’t dropped.” Sans muttered, as relief washed through their bond.

Ripper laughed, “Nope!” he tells them cheerily, and Lilith is sure it’s because he’s a jerk, “Lola figures that when your soul bonded to Lilith’s, her determination soul outweighed your patient soul and pulled your HP up.”

“You are _not_ telling us this way.” Lilith tells him again, feels Sans’s amusement through the bond despite her exasperation.

Ripper, the bastard that he is, continues to grin until Lilith turns and checks Sans. His stats roll like a video game’s over his chest, and Lilith feels shock rock her.

_Sans: The Judge_

_LV: 10_

_HP: 12_

_AT: 90_

_DF: 100_

_You will be judged. Harshly._

“All of your stats have gone up.” She tells him softly, sounding shocked as Ripper’s grin gleams with delight, and Lilith lets out a shaky little laugh as she reads them out.

Sans stares up at her with wide eye sockets and his mouth slightly open when he’s told his HP has gone up to twelve, and around them the other three watch on with glee. She pulls him into another tight hug, overwhelmed and hopeful, and exhaustion rolls through them both.

She clings to Sans, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his head buried into Lilith’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her ribs and squeezed. Love passed back and forth like a baton, soft and real, and neither had to say a word as they clung to the feeling.

Ripper shifts on the bed, all sharp smiles and amused, “Fucking adorable.” He muttered to Gore, making them laugh as Lilith squeezes Sans a little tighter.

The door to the infirmary opens, but no one freezes, they were safe in the compound that was under Felix’s rule, nothing was getting close to them if it was intending to hurt them. Edge’s voice comes through the door, and Lilith _feels_ a spike of excitement and affection, and sheer _want_ , from Sans.

There’s a brief moment of embarrassment from him, that’s quickly soothed from Lilith’s soul, and he goes _blue_ in the face when she agrees.

Lilith half turns to look to the door, leaving Sans open as well, like a prize to be seen as Edge stepped into the room with Lola. He hasn’t noticed they’re awake yet, still looking to Lola as they whisper with urgent voices about how she and Sans were doing.

Ripper practically vibrates with excitement, and briefly his solid black eye lights gleam to murky grey in his anticipation before they dull back down to pitch black. His grin goes wide and sharp as Edge takes a step into the room, still talking with Lola, when he finally looks up.

Lilith and Sans offer him shy grins, and Sans even waves, much to Ripper’s delight, as Edge goes still, and his sockets go wide. His sharp tooth mouth fell open, and Lilith thinks she can pinpoint the moment his soul stops. Lola freezes by his side, and her eyes light up with green magic and pure joy.

“Lili!” she bursts, tracing to her sister to throw herself at Lilith, wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders tightly.

With a laugh Lilith wraps an arm around Lola’s shoulders, one hand still clinging to Sans’s wrist.

Edge is still frozen by the door, much to Sans’s amusement, and Ripper’s grin gets wider, “Oh Edge!” his bright crimson eye lights flick to Ripper’s bright grin, “Lilith and Sans are awake.” Edge blinks at him slowly, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, “So you can’t be mad.”

Edge still hasn’t moved, and Ripper’s grin gets _wider_ , “You never specified when we should let you know.”

Edge shook himself out of his frozen state as Lola pulled away from Lilith, wiping her eyes with a little hiccup. Lilith hung onto her sister’s wrist, keeping contact to let Lola know she was still there, and it was okay.

They watched as Edge crossed the room with long legged steps, practically marching with determination towards Lilith and Sans, and he leveled a glare at Ripper. It would’ve been intimidating, if Lilith didn’t find the whole thing _hot_ as all hell, and him taking charge stokes something that pleases the battle mage in her.

Sans grins as he pulses agreement to Lilith as they watch him march over to them. Edge doesn’t take his sockets from them, and the want swells between both Sans and Lilith. Sans swallows hard, and Lilith squeezes his hand when Edge’s voice, all pleasantly rough, rumbles out, “I’ll deal with you later.”

It makes Ripper laugh, but he mercifully doesn’t say anything as Edge marches passed him, and leans into the space on the bed where Lilith and Sans curled tightly together, and Ripper. He presses his knee into the bed, and Lilith swallows when she feels the heat from his body, and he leans in to pull them both into a hard hug.

Lilith and Sans go willingly, leaning into his thick, heavy bones and warm body as he tucks them both against his sides. Lilith on his left, Sans on his right as his arms go around them, and he holds them both tight.

“Please don’t do that again.” Edge whispers to them, clinging to them both, burrowing into them, pressing his teeth into any part he can touch.

Lilith gives him a little watery laugh, “We’ll try not to.” _We’ll yell at him later._

“Sorry Edgelord.” Sans muttered, pressing his face into Edge’s shoulder. _Oh, he has no idea what’s about to hit him._

Lilith snorts a laugh but doesn’t say anything when she feels her shoulder grow wet as Edge clings to them.

Neither does Sans, so caught up in the moment, so overwhelmed that he doesn’t notice something dark swell through his soul. Something angry, there and gone so quickly, that even Lilith didn’t pick up on it.

Sans doesn’t take notice, and instead clings to Edge, and relishes in the feeling of his strong, warm body pressed into his own, and Lilith’s soft body next to him. He savors the feeling of her soul pressed into his and is grateful to be alive.

_I love you Lilith_

_I love you too Sans_

He smiles into Edge’s shoulder, and for now, all is right.

-

Sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the roof of the compound, Nightmare sits in the bright, hot sun in the mid day, and tries to shield his soul from the overwhelming joy that’s erupted from within. It would be euphoric for his brother, and part of Nightmare worries it’ll attract him, but this world is one of millions, and really has nothing special.

_~~It’s special to him, and he will M U R D E R anyone who threatens his life here.~~ _

Their joy is nothing special, a drop in the bucket of the multiverse, but Lilith and Sans don’t belong to the multiverse, _~~they’re his!~~_ They’re here, and they’re awake. The fact alone sent joy spreading through the Den and the Crew like wildfire, bright and painful, and it hurt him so.

Hurt him enough that even the souls from the week prior weren’t enough to keep him in the room with the others, their happiness too shiny and bright, and Nightmare doesn’t dare guess which one is happier that Lilith pulled off the impossible. He can’t guess if it’s the Den or the Crew that find more joy that she spat in the face of Fate and stole back what was hers, and lived to tell the tale.

Nightmare was proud as fuck of her, and in his own way, was delighted that Sans was alive, and would be okay. In the safety of his own mind, he can admit that he had been stressed, that the last four days had been awful, and he isn’t sure he could watch Sloan cry quietly at night in Sin’s arms one more time.

He isn’t sure he could have watched her wake up in the morning, dry her tears, pretend her eyes weren’t puffy and red, and put on the mask that told the others she was fine. He isn’t sure what he would have done, if he had to share one more distressed look with Sin, knowing that Sloan was suffering, and there was nothing he could do to help her.

He hated feeding off her heart break, her utter devastation that she might lose Lilith and Sans, especially those first hours when Lilith fell unconscious, and it had been so touch and go with Sans.

Nightmare had been so sure, that this was all for not, and they were going to lose them both. It’s not often he’s wrong, but fuck if he isn’t delighted to be wrong this time.

Lilith and Sans waking up had breathed life back into the compound and brought happiness back to the others, knowing that theirs were going to be okay. It was like the feeling of sunlight, after days of rain, and the change was instantaneous.

Felix had come running from his patrol around the compound, a smile so wide on his face that it lit up everything around him, the first real smile he had in days. Glass had actually laughed, really laughed, when Felix told him what Lola had just texted him, that Lilith and Sans were awake before they both raced for the infirmary.

Sloan had cried, and that just broke his heart all over again, but she had just been unable to hold it together when she got word that they were okay. She just sobbed brokenly into Sin’s chest while their mate rubbed her back.

Nightmare had done what he could, was only now starting to understand emotions a little, and had coiled a tentacle around her wrist, until she had yanked him forward so she could cling to him as well.

He had tried, he had, to be in the room with the others, to make sure Lilith and Sans were fine, but the amount of bliss and joy had been too overwhelming for him and made him sick. It made his magic ache, and his soul feel heavy, but he had tried to stay.

They were his, after all, and he takes care of his people. He should be there to ensure they were fine.

Once Sloan got the chance to manhandle Lilith and Sans in crushing hugs, she had taken one look at him and knew what the problem was. It made the magic of his body heat under her soft but firm gaze, that look alone send arousal burning through him, and that soft emotion that he hates to name fill him.

She had wound her way through her Den, danced around her Crew, _~~if he was King, then Sloan was his Queen, and the Crew belonged to her too,~~_ to come press a scalding kiss to his mouth, despite how the positivity in the room made his head spin like the room was moving.

“Go take a break my Moon.” She had whispered against his teeth, and Nightmare felt heat crawl up his spine and down into his pelvis when he felt Sin’s burning gaze on him as Sloan continued to whisper, “You can check in on Lilith and Sans when the others have gotten their joy out of their systems and it’ll be safe for you to be here.” She had nuzzled against his throat, nosing her way under his jaw in an affectionate move in a room full of people and it sent an unfair rush of heat into his pelvis.

He had sighed into her touch, only one of two who could touch him like that, and murky aqua had coloured his face when Sloan whispered, “Thank you, Nights, for taking care of me through this.” And she smiled against his throat, “I’ll repay the favor tonight.”

Nightmare had shivered, felt the flush of want rush through him, and he glared at her smug, delighted expression, and swears, just once he was going to make her as flustered as she did him. Just once!

“Why don’t you go relieve Wine and Coffee? I bet they haven’t moved from their post up on the roof, and you’ll still be nice and close to keep us safe.” She had told him, soothing that territorial thing in his chest.

He had captured her hand, brushing his teeth along her delicate looking knuckles and soft skin, “I’m going to get you, one of these days Sloan.” He whispered to her, earning a grin that would get him through the rest of the day.

Sin had been delighted and smug, watching them with bright, hot eye lights, and just begging to be utterly wrecked.

Unlike Sloan, Sin is easy to wreck, painfully easy to fluster, and the memory of walking up to him, and taking his hand will warm Nightmare for the rest of the day. Sin’s face had scalded yellow the moment Nightmare took his hand, careful like he was delicate, much to his great amusement.

Sin’s breath had caught in his throat as Nightmare had bowed his head to press a kiss against his knuckles, letting his azure tongue to slip between his parted teeth. His long, cool appendage twined between the delicate bones of Sin’s hand, lapping softly at the magical cushion at his joints.

It makes Sin’s face scald a deeper yellow and his eye lights positively _burn_ with want, and Nightmare is _smug_ he can get him to feel like that. He’s delighted when Sloan laughs at their antics, soft and bell like, and fuck he had missed her laugh.

It makes him feel _good._

Sin’s breathing hitches when he had pulled his tongue carefully from the delicate bones of Sin’s hand, and he can practically smell the sheer _want_ from him.

Nightmare had pleasantly kissed his knuckles again and muttered, “Later, I suppose.” And taking delight in the mock outrage in Sin’s expression.

He had paused, only briefly, at Ripper’s strained expression as he watched them, there and gone so quickly that Nightmare would be forgiven to think he had imagined it. His socket had narrowed on Ripper in suspicion, looking for any reason for the hurt, but he had turned back to Lilith and Edge, all sharp smiles and mocking jokes.

“Fuck me.” Sin had hissed, hot and needy, brining Nightmare’s attention back to his mates, and he grins. Ripper’s weird expression all but forgotten.

“Later.” He all but promised to Sin’s gobsmacked expression, and made good his escape, Sloan’s delighted laugh following him out of the infirmary. Its good, the first he’s heard it since Red brought Lilith and Sans home, both with a foot in the grave.

Nightmare had made his way to the roof, shooing Wine and Coffee to the infirmary, much to their delight and relief, so they could see to Lilith, Sans, and Felix. Nightmare knows he’s pretty inept when it comes to emotions, but even he had seen that this was riding hard on Felix, and thus, them.

And he does have to wonder how long before Coffee gets the balls to admit his feelings for Felix, but that’s not his problem, and had settled in to watch over the compound.

There’s a weird feeling, to be guarding over a building filled with love and loyalty, so much so that he had to physically leave the compound. But its his, full of his people, his team, and he’s the first and last line of defense right now.

If anything came for them, they’d deal with him long before they got near the building, and Nightmare had settled in to wait.

Dropping his elbows to his knees, he scans his territory like a predator, looking, _daring_ anything to bother them, and part of him is bothered that the girls still weren’t home. Sloan had thought it best to keep them away from this potential tragedy, at least until Lilith and Sans were in the clear. Spare the children one more trauma, if they could.

They stayed with Toriel and had called no less then three times a day to talk to all of them. They had even spoken to Nightmare, to make sure he wasn’t feeling left out, and that touched him in a weird way. Familiar, to how his own Frisk had been in his world, in a rare burst of sweet nostalgia.

It’s not often he has good memories of his world, and he hopes that the girls can come home soon.

Guarding over his territory, like a dragon guarding treasure, and he thinks its an apt description, when he hears the sound of a portal being opened and closed behind him. Nightmare suppresses a long-suffering sigh as he senses Error.

The Glitch and his Ghosty boy-toy had been oddly persistent in their promise to stay and help guard the compound, and Error had been irritatingly so in trying to talk to him.

Nightmare keeps his back to him, a sign of disrespect, a sign that Nightmare didn’t fear him when he sneered over his shoulder, “What do you want Error?”

He doesn’t see Error shrug so much as he imagines it, and his voice is rough when he says, “i HeArD yOuR aBoMiNaTiOn wOke uP.” He tells Nightmare mildly, and it makes everything in him _freeze._

Something vicious and angry shifts in his soul, and he latches onto that feeling. Anger is easy, and he leans into it like it was his second nature as he pushes himself to his feet. Standing on the edge of the compound, Nightmare slowly turns to glower at Error with all the fury the last four days have built up in his soul.

His eye pulls into a thin line of light and when his mouth parts, its into sharp, shadowy fangs backlit by azure light. His tentacles rear up like hissing snakes at his back, over his head and around his body; the four he keeps summoned are hardly a peek into his power, and when they split, and split again, dozens of them writhe around his body in a show of fury.

His voice comes out in a vicious hiss, like nails on a chalk board, “Call her an abomination, one more time.” He all but dared, all dark fury, and aggression.

It makes Error wisely freeze, stilling in a half step towards him at the very familiar sight of Nightmare on the brink of violence. Yet, as much as this is something he is familiar with, it’s also something he’s never seen before.

Nightmare isn’t angry for the sake of it or because of a slight, he’s angry at what he said about the mage. He’s angry on behalf of someone, he’s _protecting_ someone, and that territorial thing inside of Nightmare is perceiving Error as a threat.

It makes Error sweat a little, knows that if it really did come to blows, Nightmare _would_ win, this strange softness in him or not, and everything Error was trying to do here would be for nothing. He had hated this world, its so full and _wrong,_ and he suffered to be here. He longed for the quite of the void, when it was just he and Reaper.

Yet, Reaper was right, and he did miss the slimy asshole. Nightmare was someone who could understand him, understand what it was like to be corrupted, and he had missed that. He had missed that almost friendship they had, the late nights bitching about the multiverse and mocking the other universes.

Error missed his…friend.

Yet, when he chose Reaper, it had done damage to their relationship, and Error _knew_ he hurt Nightmare. He _knows_ Nightmare’s got issues with abandonment, and his leaving had done damage. He had no idea how to make amends, and been all twisted up about it, and had been _terrified_ when the Crew suddenly disappeared from the multiverse. 

He hadn’t expected to find them here, all attached to the people of this world, to find Nightmare so fond of the spell caster and part of him gets it. He’s jealous, for sure and doesn’t think its fair that Nightmare is so angry at him when he did the same thing when he found someone special.

But, Error gets it. He does. Nightmare found his people, and just brought his Crew with him, they didn’t leave each other like Error did, they just up and moved here. And it was very clear that Nightmare had claimed it as his own.

Error had forgotten just how territorial Nightmare could be and how vicious when he was feeling threatened. Taking a breath, Error puts his hands up in surrender, he _isn’t_ here to fight, “i MeAn nO dIssResPeCt.” He says quickly, holding Nightmare’s furious gaze, knows that when he’s verging into feral anger like this, it’s better to not allow yourself to appear to be prey.

Nightmare hisses again, holds his gaze a moment longer, and Error sweats a little more, feels pressure in the back of his skull like he’s edging towards a shut down, when Nightmare’s tentacles thrash angrily before he stands down a little.

The tentacles at his back rejoin into thick, goopy appendages at his back and his teeth blunt. He glares hard at Error, searching for any reason to toss him from the top of the building, and sneers when he finds none.

When he speaks, the timbre of his voice is back to being pleasantly rough, “Of _course_ not.” He makes a dismissive _tsk_ noise before he turns and gracefully drops back to sit at the edge of the building. He waves his hand over his shoulder as if he’s dismissing Error, “You can go now. Lilith is awake and your presence is no longer needed.”

Irritation rolls through Error at the dismissal, and he stiffens, “I wAnT tO tAlK tO yOu.” He snaps, his voice glitching a little harder in his irritation.

Nightmare turns back to grin coldly, “Oh, now you want to talk? How _charming_.” He spits at him with venom and when he taps his teeth, it’s somehow mocking, “Let me think on this shall I?”

Error cringes inwardly as he hums in thought, “How about, fuck off? Yes, that seems apt.”

Still, he’s here and he’s never getting a second chance. Error isn’t stupid enough to think he’ll even get this close again, “NIgHtMaRe, pLeAsE.”

“Please what!” Nightmare snapped, the mock friendliness dropping, “You have nothing that I am interested in. The only reason I have not _torn you to pieces_ is because it would upset the balance here when two of mine are hurt.” Error stills at that, swallows at Nightmare claiming the humans as his and its only then that Error truly sees just how delicate this situation is.

“And now that they are well on their way to recovery, you are no longer needed here. _Leave_ before my patience runs out.” He sneers.

Error takes a breath, “NiGhTmArE,” he starts, only to be interrupted again, Nightmare’s agitation growing.

“Oh yes, please keep talking. That is _exactly_ what I want.” He hisses angrily, twisting so that he was sitting facing towards Error, and Error feels the pressure in his skull increase, “Keep going, by all means, lets see how far this goes.”

Nightmare drops his chin into his palm, elbow resting on his knee, all cruel smirks and contained fury. He moves just as regally as he would have in his castle, and sitting on the edge of the building is no different then sitting on his throne.

Error takes a breath, and goes for broke, “i’M sOrRy.” He starts, and that’s enough to disarm Nightmare, and he pauses. It breaks some of the tension that’s coiled tightly through him, and he backs down a little.

“What?” he asks a little dumbly, and Error takes that as a sign to keep going. 

“i’M sOrRy.” He says again, and Nightmare blinks at him a little. Error centres himself and tries to calm down, tries to remember all the coaching from Reaper, “i KnEw tHaT lEaViNg wOuLd hUrT yOuR feEliNgs.” He says a little awkwardly.

Nightmare continues to stare at him, his single working socket wide, his azure eye light blown out and fuzzy around the edges, and Error is certain he’s never seen Nightmare so caught off guard before.

“You’re sorry?” He hisses, making Error cringe a little at the brewing anger in his voice, and Error knows he needs to head this spite off at the pass if he has any hope of getting his message out.

“yEs.” He states firmly, balling his hands into fists, “i’M sOrRy.” He says for the third time, and he moves on quickly, “i KnEw YoU wOuLd NoT uNdErStAnD, wHeN i FoUnD ReApEr. yOu wOuLdn’T uNdErsTaNd hOw I fElT. YoU cOuLdN’t.”

He took a breath and drops his gaze when he couldn’t hold Nightmare’s intense stare, “i LoVe ReApEr, aNd yOu wOuLdN’t AcCePt hIm.” He takes a breath, and looks back up, “bUt yOu’Ve cHaNgEd. YoU’Re dIfFeReNt.” He pauses and knows that his next words could send Nightmare spiralling into a fit of anger.

“YoU cAn FeEl.” Error tells him boldly, and Nightmare flinches like Error’s words have struck him, and Error can see his anger building again at the bare truth of it, “WhAt WoUlD yOu dO fOr SlOaN?”

“Don’t you say her name.” Nightmare hisses, and his tentacles thrash angrily, sharpening into points. It’s a weak argument that Nightmare clings too, but Error lets him have it.

“YoU lEfT tHe MuLtIvErSe.” Error tells him blandly, “YoU cHoSe ThIs WoRlD aBoVe aLl oThErs. YoU cHoSe tO sTaY, aNd wHaT’s mOrE, yOu’Re cHoOsInG tO pRoTeCt It.”

He licks his teeth, and tries not to shrink under Nightmare’s vicious gaze, “YoU dId WhAt I dId.”

“Get to your fucking point Error.” Nightmare sneers, his eye light still a bloated blob of azure and anger, “My patience is running very thin.”

“I mIsS yOu.” He blurts, and his left eye glitches a little harder as his emotions spike, “iT sUcKeD tO hAvE tO cHoOsE, wHeN I tHoUgHt wE wErE FrIenDs.” He explains slowly, and part of him expects Nightmare to laugh at him. To mock him, but it never comes and Nightmare’s eye light suddenly constricts into a razer thin line. 

“I nEvEr HaTeD yOu aNd sHoUlD hAvE tRiEd tO tAlK tO yOu.” He pauses, and takes a breath, “i ShOuLDn’t hAvE lEfT wItHoUt tAlKiNg To YoU.”

There’s a long, tense moment as Nightmare stares at him, and he isn’t sure if the King of Darkness is going to launch an attack at him or not. What defense could Error really offer, if he did? Nightmare had always been stronger, feeding off the negativity of the multiverse had made him powerful. He would be unharmed by anything Error could do to him, his soul too well protected by the corruption that covered his body thickly, and even now, here in this bright, wonderful world full of cheer, Nightmare was all powerful.

Something had changed in him, for sure, something made him feel, but something else gave him power. Something stronger then the darkness of the multiverse, but what it was, Error couldn’t say.

Just as suddenly, all the anger that was bursting through him, was gone, and Nightmare turned away, giving his back to Error, and Error slumps. Its as much a dismissal as being told to leave, and disappointment crushes his soul inward.

He had thought, _fantasized,_ that he would have been forgiven, and welcomed back into the fold. Not to stay, no, Error was in love with Reaper and he had a responsibility to ease the dead to the afterlife. Where Reaper went, Error would follow, no ifs, ands or butts.

Yet, it would still be _nice_ to have his friend back. Faced with his reality, disappointment swells in his broken soul and he slumps weakly and there’s a lump of grief lodged in his throat. Looking back, Error would have done the same, if it came down to Nightmare or Reaper, he would choose Reaper every time.

He had _hoped_ for understanding, with this weird softness in Nightmare’s soul, but he wasn’t going to find it here.

Crushed, his body glitchy and unstable, Error is going to turn away, intending on leaving, when Nightmare’s rough voice says, “I missed you too.” Error pauses, and feels his broken soul constrict with hope. “When you left, I had no one to share a conversation that would understand what it was like to be us.”

It makes Error snort, and he takes a hesitant step forward as Nightmare continues in his rough, thick voice, “I will admit, I was angry when you left.”

To which Error snorts again, “YoU tHrEw yOuR dEsK aT mE.” He reminds him with the hint of a grin at his mouth.

“As I have said.” Nightmare tells him, blasé about it, flapping his hand at him as Error took another step towards him, “I was angry.”

Error snorted a laugh, and cautiously stepped over the edge of the building, and sat tentatively beside Nightmare. Nightmare hasn’t looked at him, but is watching something beneath them, and as Error looks down, he takes a breath, “YoU aReN’t GoInG tO pUsH mE oFf tHe LeDge, ArE yOu?”

It makes Nightmare smile, still watching the world below them, where Red is still smoking on the front porch, bitter and angry, and the only one who hasn’t gone running to see to the mage and her Judge. “No.” Nightmare says eventually, “If I were going to shove you off the side of the building, I would have done it by now.”

It makes Error snort, and finally, the guilt loosens, and he relaxes in next to Nightmare. The heaviness in his soul fades, or starts to. He knows he needs to apologise to Lilith as well, but at least now things feel less terrible. It’s nice to be next to Nightmare again, to maybe have his friend back.

Nightmare is staring at nothing, the crooked grin gone as he focuses on something and nothing, before he finally says slowly, “I need your help.” He tells Error suddenly, making him frown.

“We have an enemy that none of us can touch and a threat we can not address.” Error’s frown deepens and Nightmare finally looks at him with a bitter expression, “We came to be here after we were attacked by something we could not see.”

Error frowns and listens to a near unbelievable story that Nightmare tells him. A story of a cruel, vicious Chara that broke Ripper’s spine, and shattered Wine’s ribcage. A cruel story that left Nightmare full of light shards and at the mercy of mages.

How terrified they must have been, to be at the mercy of humans, a spell that bound them together or not, and to find such a kindness. To find something more, in these odd, kind, fierce creatures.

Anger burns through him, at the treatment of the Crew at the hands of a cruel poltergeist. Anger, that something had hurt his friend, was still hurting them, and Error can taste fury on his tongue, at the story that Nightmare tells him.

Something hurt his friend, and Error would see to it they found a way to kill it.


	43. And Vice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Red are not having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> I hope you are all been keeping safe and have been well this week.
> 
> New Saturday, new chapter! I do hope you all enjoyed the fluff and comfort last week, it's, uh, gonna be the last we see of it for a bit. :3 
> 
> As always thank you to all of you who have suck with me so far and continued to read Haven, it means the world to me. 
> 
> And a special thank you to Kate, who gave me the wonderful plot bunny of Sans and Lilith bonding, I hope I did it justice. And a special thank you to Lissy, who gave me the plot bunny for what happens next :3 I've really enjoyed this chapter and the direction this arc is taking, and I sincerely hope you enjoy how it all plays out.
> 
> Please make sure you read the warnings, and enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: uncontrolled anger, descending into madness, brief talking of deaths that occured during Sans's time underground, attempts to instigate a fight, successfully starts a fight, blood, broken bones, using pain as a coping mechanism, let me know if I have missed anything.

Sitting in the middle of his unmade bed, Red stares miserably at his phone, and cringes when he hears laughter down the hall. His soul feels heavy as he heaves a sigh and rubs at his sockets, exhaustion swelling through him.

In the four days since Lilith and Sans had woken up, but hadn’t left the infirmary, Red hadn’t gone to see them, _~~he couldn’t, he fucking couldn’t do it, he couldn’t look at them yet, not when he’s so fucking raw,~~_ despite how they asked him if he was coming by.

He’s so tired, he’d not been sleeping well since he brought Lilith and Sans home, the dark smudges under his sockets are darker now with his weariness, and it’s just…

_~~Every time he closes his sockets and tries to sleep, all he can see is Lilith on her back, blood exploding from her mouth as a spell caves in her ribcage. He sees Sans, half dead and dusting next to Lilith, he feels Sans limp and cold in his arms and he just can’t…~~ _

Red’s having trouble sleeping, and he doesn’t know how to tell anyone that he needs help. Refuses to say aloud that he’s in trouble, refused to admit a weakness.

Lilith and Sans certainly aren’t helping, and for the most part, they’ve let him be, gave him the space that he clearly needs but does not want.

_~~He doesn’t know what he fucking wants.~~ _

He should probably go see them, now that they’re awake and starting to get better, but he just _can’t._

He stares tiredly down at his phone, and a claw tipped finger taps the slick glass of the screen, and it lit up with three messages to him.

_Centre Fold: Dude, where r u? Just cuz we can c thru u doesn’t mean that we don’t want 2 c u._

_Angel Dust: Red. Are you okay?_

_Centre Fold: Red come on. You’re making Lilith worry._

Miserable and hurting, Red stares down at his phone, and knows Sans is serious if he’s using proper punctuation. He is making Lilith worry, and she was messaging him, but something held him back. Something made him worry, and grief twists his soul. He isn’t sure if he can see Lilith and Sans right now, isn’t sure if he could bare it.

Part of him is just tired and afraid, but part of him is just angry and that’s what he clings to. Angry that Lilith and Sans had the audacity to almost die on him, that they where so ready to get them selves killed when they should have let him deal with Akkar. He’s Fell, he knows how to fight, and irrational or not, it hadn’t been fair.

He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling like this, not fully, he doesn’t understand this grief that’s mixing with his anger, this weird soul deep hurt. A strange feeling of abandonment has settled in his soul, and he just can’t seem to shake it.

Lilith kissing Edge had been the knife twisting in his soul, and yeah, he admits that he didn’t want her any where near him before she had gone for Sans, he hadn’t wanted to be in the same room as her, but it still…hurt. Like she was choosing him in a way, choosing Sans and Edge over him, and Red just doesn’t understand why that hurts so much. He doesn’t understand why they were all choosing the others over him, and his over tired brains can’t understand why he’s hurting so much.

He’s too tired to think clearly, and his skull hurts with exhaustion.

Hunger cramps his soul, and Red scowls down at his chest and he does his best to ignore it. He’d starved for longer in Underfell, he isn’t going to bend so easily to his bodies needs. He can wait it out, just a little longer, really be sure that no one was in the kitchen before he pilfered some food.

Lola, bless her soul, always made him up a plate and left it in the fridge for him. All he had to do was get it. He’d been avoiding breakfast, something that was blasphemy to the mages, but no one had come to get Red the first morning after Lilith and Sans woke up, and he yelled at Edge to leave him alone.

_~~Why did he yell at his brother? He wasn’t angry at Edge, not really. He was just…he didn’t understand.~~ _

Everyone was leaving him alone, and it was what he wanted. _~~He tries not to feel the way his soul constricts when something quietly tells him that he doesn’t want to be alone. He wants his brother to care. He wants to climb into bed with Lilith and Sans. Red wants…~~_

Red doesn’t know what he wants, but he’s tired and hungry, and neither of those things are helping him think clearly. He can’t look at anything logically, not when his skull is pounding and his sockets itch, when his phone chimes again.

Heaving a tired sigh, he taps the glass to read the new message.

_Angel Dust: Red? Will you come talk to us?_

He sighs at the message, feels his soul constrict with hunger, sorrow, and a weird twist of abandonment. Something pangs into the bruised spot of his soul when his phone chimes again.

_Angel Dust: Please?_

Heaving a sigh, Red flips his phone so its laying face down on his bed, and he simply doesn’t want to deal with her. He doesn’t want to go talk to them and he’s not ready to face it, and he rubs at his sockets.

_~~He sees so much blood when he closes his sockets~~ _

His soul pangs again with hunger, and when Red checks the time, it’s well passed nine, and by now most of the Den and Crew are gone from the kitchen. No doubt gone to fawn over Lilith and Sans, and the perfect time for him to go get something to eat. 

It’d be a quick in and out, no one would even notice he was in the kitchen, and his body hurts when he pulls himself off his bed. His black t shirt is at least two days worn, and his magic feels sluggish when he pulls on his heavy leather coat with the fur lined hood, despite the heat of the summer.

He reaches up to touch his spiked collar at his throat, take a little comfort from that, before he steps into a short cut. His body revolts at the use of magic he can’t spare, and his stomach twists with nausea and unease. He hadn’t been taking care of himself at all, secretly worse then Edge had been, and it had been his refusal to give in that kept him on his feet.

His magic is watery and thin at best, and he’s nauseous stepping out of the short cut from his room and into the kitchen. It takes him a moment to orient himself, to see things clearly as his head spins, and when his vision clears, Edge is sitting at the table, quietly drinking coffee.

Red freezes when he sees his brother, looking for all the world to see, relaxed and at ease, but Red knows better. Knows that _he’s_ the one that’s been spoiling for a fight, a proper fight, for days.

But _no one_ , not even Edge, has dared defy Felix to give him one.

Fuck, he’d probably feel better getting the shit kicked outta him.

Red pushes the thought away, settles himself and allows his expression to sink into something cold and sharp as he regards his brother.

Edge says nothing to him, doesn’t even move his skull as he sips his coffee, and only his eye light follows Red through the kitchen to the fridge. Red snarled quietly as he reached for the wrapped plate of pancakes that Lola left for him, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor when he turned for the microwave.

He squirms when he feels Edge’s eye lights on the back of his neck, but he refused to bend or bow.

Edge breaks first with a deep sigh, “You know.” His voice is rough as ever, like he gargled with broken glass, and his voice makes Red turn to scowl at his brother, “Your breakfast would be better if you came down to eat on time.” He told Red mildly, “It would be _hot,_ for one thing.”

Red sneers, his eye lights flickering weakly, but he doesn’t dignify his brother with an answer and turns back to the microwave.

He hears Edge sigh, and he braces for his brother to try again, “You know, Lilith and Sans are rather distraught that you haven’t come to visit them yet.” He told Red softly, going for the proverbial throat, making Red flinch, “Lola’s clearing them today. You should go see them, I think they would be happy if you did.”

Anger boils in Red’s soul, _~~and all he can see is blood and dust,~~_ and when he turns on Edge, magic weakly sparks at his fingers, and his eye lights flare weakly as he takes in his brothers’ appearance. Edge is wearing one of the t shirts Lilith bought him, his long, bright red scarf and a pair of jeans despite the heat, and Red hates it. Hates that his brother isn’t wearing his armor, hates that he isn’t wearing his chains or brass knuckles.

Red feels the sting of betrayal through his soul, sharp and piercing, and it left him bleeding. It _hurt,_ like he was choosing Lilith and Sans over him, even if he couldn’t say why. His soul cramps at the thought, knows it to be an untruth and that his over tired brain was lying to him, but it just _hurts_ , “Sorry, _Little brother_ , I am not anyone’s pet. I am not at their beck and call.”

Edge _freezes_ , his grip tightening around his mug, “Pardon?” he hissed out, and Red grinned at him.

 _Finally!_ The fight he’s been craving, and when he grins at his brother, it’s knife sharp and his razor teeth gleam in the light of the kitchen, “I said, I’m not their pet. I don’t care if the mage is getting out today. It’s her own fault she almost died; she can deal with the consequences.” His soul screams at him to shut up, to just stop, to just go see them, but anger washes over him, and its just _easier_ to give into it, “So what if they’re getting out, I don’t care.”

Edge is staring back at him with a gobsmacked expression, and Red is sure he would have been less offended if Red had walked over to him and slapped him in the face.

Edge’s face darkens, and something in Red’s soul is soothed at the fight that’s about to come. Back in Nightmare’s realm, fights were easy to come by, a little bit of needling to Glass, Crow or even Rips, and Red could be in a brawl. Even if he lost the fight, he still felt better with bruises on his face or ribs.

It was harder here, the mages were so god-damned calm, that they literally eased everyone around them, even Crow. It wasn’t a bad thing that they provided stability to them, it was good for them and the kids, but not so great when Red was itching for some pain and a fight.

“You don’t mean that.” Edge told him slowly, setting down his mug with a clank of ceramic in a weird sort of finality.

Red doesn’t, not really, he had been agonizing over them the whole time they were unconscious. He had been so worried, felt _so betrayed_ that they would have left him here alone, he didn’t know how to cope. He couldn’t sleep because of his fresh and shiny new nightmares, so on the nights when he was supposed to be resting, he had sat quietly outside the infirmary door and listened to the sound of the machines beeping that told him they lived.

“I do.” Red hisses with vindictive glee, and he ignores the sound of the microwave beeping behind him, “I don’t give a shit that the mage fucking died.” He snarled, and that’s a lie, the biggest one he’s told yet, “I don’t give a shit that _Sansy_ is an idiot who gave up fucking core magic to her.” That might be a bigger lie, “And I don’t give a shit about either of them.” That would be the biggest lie of all.

Edge’s expression has darkened to thunderous rage, and his working eye light is bright like a super nova, and excitement pulses through Red. _Yes!_ This is what he needed, he needed a fight, he needed to hurt for what he did, for how he failed so spectacularly. He needed to be hurt to get his soul under control again and stop feeling so _terrible_.

Maybe then he could handle going to see Lilith and Sans.

“So,” Red says cruelly, aiming to hurt, aiming to make him bleed, “If you want to play domesticated pet to the mage and her soft little judge, by all means. But I don’t care.”

Anger thunders through Edge as he slowly stands up, his hands pressed flat to the kitchen table, and Red’s breakfast all but forgotten behind him. _Yes,yes,yes!_ He just needs to push his brother a little harder, he just needs to get him to snap and Red will get what he needs.

Just a little bit of penance, and he’ll be right as rain.

“So run along, _pet_.” Red puffs up at his brother’s furious expression, leering up at him. He pushes his shoulders back, and leans up onto his toes to get a little taller, and goes for the throat, “I’m sure your owners are wondering where you are by now.” He licks his teeth, and knows his next words are going to hurt his brother, but he just can’t seem to stop, “You never could be without a master.” Edge’s sockets go wide at the implication, “Our Gaster,” the bastard that he was, and they both still bore the scares from him, “Muffet, Asgore. You’re nothing but a whore selling yourself to the highest bidder for a scrap of attention. The mage is no different, she’s only bought you with kindness.”

His words are cruel beyond measure, and he _knows_ it. He knows its not true, and he knows that he would have been dead a long time ago if not for Edge. Yet, Red just _needs_ someone to hurt him.

Edge looks ready to do it, he’s practically shaking with rage and Red feels a rush of anticipation, when Edge suddenly squints down at him. Like he’s seeing his _brother_ for the first time, seeing the dark smudges under his sockets, the way his eye lights are too dim and the magic at is joints are watery.

Its like he’s seeing how tired Red is for the first time in days, and he can see right through Red’s bullshit. Red stills when he realizes that Edge knows what he’s doing.

Taking a breath, Edge relaxes and calms his tattered nerves, “Sans,” Red flinches at his old name being said aloud, no one had addressed him as _Sans_ since he joined Nightmare’s crew, “I know what you’re doing. I will not hurt you out of some misguided attempt at redemption.”

 _No! No, No, No!_ this wasn’t how this was supposed to go! Red sneered and balled his hands into fists. What he needed was for Edge to slap him around a bit, and help calm his soul. Not this talking bull shit.

Edge takes another calming breath, he’s still angry at Red’s words, but he’s not giving in to Red’s anger, “Would you please sit down, and _talk_ to me? Something is upsetting you, and I can help.”

Anger is a heavy ball of led in Red’s soul, and grief is a knot in his throat, and Red can’t get any words out as he glares angrily at his brother.

Edge swallows and tries again, “Or at least talk to Lilith and Sans. They’re worried and they miss you.”

Red’s anger clings to that, clings the to the feeling of abandonment those words made him unexpectedly feel. It was _always_ about Sans and Lilith, why could no one see that _he_ needed something, why couldn’t his brother just fucking give it to him?

Anger chokes Red, and he can’t think clearly with it crawling like an infecting ivy through him. He knows he’s in the wrong, he knows he needs to sleep and should go see Lilith and Sans, but he just can’t get past his well of anger.

The anger in his soul is easier to cling to, and its so much easier to give into.

Red’s expression darkens, clouding with rage, and his sleep deprived mind clung to the idea of, _If Edge won’t give me what I need, then I will find someone who will_. Wordlessly, he turns from his brother, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum tile while his soul pulses with hurt and hunger, and storms from the room.

“Sans!” Edge calls for him, and that only makes him angrier, like his brother is trying to manipulate him.

“That’s not my fucking name!” Red sneers over his shoulder, as he storms away, Edge on his heels in an attempt to talk to him.

“Fine. Red, will you just slow down a moment and talk to me?” Edge practically pleads, and that pisses Red off more. They’re Fell, they don’t plead or beg with anyone, and it makes Red irrationally angry that Edge is trying to beg for his attention.

He’s so angry he sees red, and he can’t understand why he’s lashing out like this. Why he can’t just calm down or why his soul is choking with heartache. He ignores his brother, ignores Ripper and Crow on the stairs and their frowning faces and doesn’t question why they aren’t with Lilith and Sans.

They had been guarding them since everything went down, a job that should have been Red’s by virtue, and guilt adds itself to the delightful cocktail of anguish that’s drowning his soul.

Red ignores it and them, storms through the compound until he finds Nightmare in one of the living rooms. He’s sitting across from Error and Reaper a low table between them, leaning forward so his elbows are pressed into his knees, hands clenched tightly between. They’re discussing something in hushed voices, and Red ignores that they are probably in a meeting of some kind, bursting into the room with all the anger that he’s been feeling for days.

Nightmare turns to him, a frown pulling his mouth down when he looks to Red, his azure eye light giving him an up and down before it flicks to Edge at his back, and back again. Tilting his head, Nightmare drinks in the anger from Red, can feel it bursting from his soul alongside his hurt, and he can see how poorly Red’s doing, “Red? What do I owe the pleasure?” the timbre of his voice is rough and low, the same he uses to lull victims into a false sense of security. Red holds back his snark, knows this isn’t the time for it.

Red sneers, “I want to go home.” He can feel Edge still at his back and Nightmare’s frown deepens.

“What do you mean?” Nightmare asks slowly, confused by the sudden swell of grief, and hurt, “You _are_ home Red.”

Puffing up, and full of indignation, Red’s sneering words come out with white hot anger, “No, I’m not. I want to go back to Underfell.”

Everything around them freezes, and even Error’s sockets go wide as he silently mouths the words _oh fuck_. Red can feel Edge’s anger behind him, can feel his body hot at his back and he doesn’t need to see Edge to know his hands are balled into angry fists.

Nightmare blinks calmly, “Underfell?” he says slowly, getting a vicious nod from Red, before his expression goes to annoyed, “I’m not sending you back to fucking Underfell because you’re in a tizzy.”

Red’s expression goes thunderous as Nightmare turns back to Reaper and Error, “Go sort your shit out Red.” He tells him from over his shoulder.

“I am!” Red spits, drawing Nightmare’s exasperated expression back to him, “I want to go home to Underfell.”

He ignores Edge’s snarl and someone else’s wet gasp, doesn’t turn to see who else has joined in watching him fall apart.

“I’ll go live with fucking Toriel in the ruins. Just send me back.” He hissed.

Nightmare’s socket narrowed, “No. I will not send you back to your world, where Asgore wants you dead. If he hasn’t killed Toriel by now in his search for you, him discovering you there will get you both killed. Now, stop trying to run from your problems Red, and go talk to Lilith and Sans.”

Anger washes over Red, and its so easy to cling to. So easy to grasp because it hurts the least, “I would rather be dead then be here anymore!” he spits, his anger getting the better of him.

Nightmare hisses at him, his eye light pulling into razor sharp thinness before he glances over Red’s shoulder and he winces. Red’s about to ask him what his fucking problem is, tell him that he doesn’t deserve to be here and just send him home where he belongs, when a firm, monotone voice called his name, “Red?”

He freezes at Lilith’s voice behind him, he had been so angry he hadn’t felt her presence or her magic near him, and he was _not_ ready to talk to her. Not yet, not when he would turn and see her chest caved in and her own blood on her face.

Red can’t move, emotions choke him, and he’s far too overwhelmed by it all.

“Red you don’t mean that.” Her voice is oddly soft, like _he’s_ the one who needs to be gentled right now, and she wasn’t the one just getting out of the infirmary, “Can we just, talk? Just you and me?” she offers, and a part of Red clings to that. Is ready to give in to the offer, give in to her smooth, cool voice and let her take him away. He’s ready to take whatever comfort she’s going to give him, bend to her will, and be soothed for once.

His anger won’t let him, and the hurt is thick in his throat. His hands ball into fists by his sides, and he drops his gaze to his shoes. Everything is overwhelming, like he’s feeling too much too soon, and he’s not ready to talk to Lilith. His soul feels like its on fire and in a bucket of ice at the same time, like it’s being ground into the floor, and he can’t breathe.

She must be used to Sans’s bullshit, because the moment he draws magic into his tired soul to short cut, she’s calling him for to wait, to stop and just talk to her, but Red isn’t ready to deal with her, and escapes into the safety of the void.

He lands back heavily in this room, his soul pulsing in pain and hunger, and his body feels worse for the trip. He misses his bed and lands hard on his knees, jolting as the pain of hitting the floor rushes through his body, the innards of his bones revolting at the use of magic he couldn’t spare.

Nausea twists through him, and he barely drags the empty garbage can towards him in time to vomit into it. Wasted, tainted magic pours out from between his sharp teeth and his sockets, and Red’s soul panged with hunger.

Greif filled him, and he can only wonder, what the fuck is wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just talk to her?

Sighing into the waste bin, Red wallows in his ruined morning and stews in his hurt. He feels abandoned when he was the one who fucking ran and embarrassed by his outburst. Self deprecation creeps up through his soul, and he just can’t help but _hate_ himself.

There’s a soft rap at his door, and Red flinches downwards, like he’s about to be struck when Lilith’s soft voice comes through the wood, “Red? Are you in here?” he doesn’t answer her, can’t, and he just wants to crawl into bed and be left alone.

He hears her sigh on the other side of the door, and a gentle thump as Lilith leans her forehead against the wood, but she doesn’t try to come in, “Red, I brought you up your pancakes.” She offers hopefully, waits for him to respond even when he doesn’t.

He closes his sockets, and quietly waits for her to leave. _Please just leave. ~~Don’t leave.~~_

“Okay Red. I uh.” He’s never heard her sound uncertain before, and Red doesn’t like it, “I’ll leave your pancakes here.”

His soul constricts at that, and he doesn’t understand why she’s being so nice, when he had been so cruel to her.

“Just. We’ll be outside if you want to talk.” She muttered through the door, and Red gripped at the trash can harder until the plastic warped.

He hears her walk away, and his soul panged painfully through him and he waits until he can’t hear Lilith’s steps. Once he’s certain she’s gone, he gets to his shaky feet, wobbling to his door, pulling it open a crack. As promised, a plate of warm pancakes is on the floor and Lilith has left him alone, gone outside with the others.

He feels hollow, bending to pick up the plate, unused to this kindness, and uncertain how to feel. With a wet, tight noise at the back of his throat, he brings the plate inside his room and kicks his door shut. He turns and sinks to the floor, his back to the door and he quietly eats the pancakes Lola made for him.

-

Sans can feel the grief and hurt from Lilith from outside with Felix, her side of the bond hums with it, thick like tar and makes him hurt too. Hurt for his bonded, hurt for Red, and the shitty feeling of helplessness settles like a ball in his nonexistent stomach.

 _It’s not your fault evil mage._ He whispered to her through the bond, and her side lights up with heart stopping love for him and he smiles at nothing, _We’ll get him. Nightmare won’t send him away, we’ll be here with him, when he’s ready to talk._ Sans promises, and he feels the swell of relief from her.

 _I know._ She whispers back, and leans into their bond a little harder, soaking in his love for her, _It just._

 _Hurts_ the bond whispers from them both, hums in agreement, and patience and determination pulse between them. They can out last Red if they need to, they’re souls decree it, and they will be there for him when he’s ready to talk.

“You’re doing the thing again.” Ripper sighs from beside Sans, stretched out in the warm sunlight, digging his toes into the dirt of the back yard.

Sans tilts his head to look at him, their backs to the porch as they sat in the sun, and he doesn’t deny that he’s soaking in everything that Lilith was willing to give him, “Don’t hate the player Rips.”

Sans tells him smugly, and Ripper huffs a sigh when Sans’s white eye lights gleam ruby for a moment, and he knows that Sans is still talking to Lilith.

“Yeah, well, tell your girl to hurry the fuck up.” Ripper grins at him, sharp smiled and delighted that he’s part of Felix’s experiment, “’Lix is getting antsy.”

Sans frowns, glances to Felix, and lets Lilith see into his own worry. So much had happened, so many people were hurting, and Red wasn’t the only one. Felix has his eyes on the compound, they’re gleaming yellow as he chews nervously on his thumb, shifting his weight from side to side.

Sans sighed and frowned despite Ripper’s never-ending grin. Felix was hurting too, he’d seen his sister die, saw Sans almost die, and Sans itches at the stump where his hand used to be; it was odd, like he could still feel it, like it was still there.

He ignores it and focuses back on his people. Focuses on Felix, knows that he’s hurting too but unlike Red, who isolated himself, Felix had needed to be with everyone. Needed to be in charge and kept them all safe for a little while longer.

Sans knows he’s a bit raw, feeling heart sick over what happened, and knows that Felix is probably going to be close to Lilith at all times for a while. That’s fine, Sans doesn’t even really mind, knows how special the sibling bond is, and he’ll make sure Felix gets his cuddle time with his sister.

Sans, he gets it.

There’s a creek at the door, but Felix’s smile is only half assed, so even if he couldn’t feel her soul, Sans knows its not Lilith.

Instead, its Gaster.

He smiles gently and nods to Felix, and Sans relaxes into the side of the porch as his father steps carefully off the deck, walking slowly to sit on Sans’s other side. Sans frowns when he sees his dad, another victim in all this, another casualty caught up in the blast radius that was this fuck up, and he frowns when something angry moves through his soul at the unfairness of it all.

The feeling is there and gone, so fleeting that Sans questions if he even felt it, and he grins up at his dad as Gaster slowly sinks down next to Sans with a gentle smile.

“Your sister will be out momentarily Felix. I believe she is just getting water.” Gaster tells him gently, earning a nod from Felix but he’s still staring at the door, waiting for her.

“Thanks Gaster.” Felix says, absent minded and distracted, but Gaster pays him no mind and takes no offence.

Instead Gaster looks to Sans, smiles soft to him, full of gentle love and deep seeded relief to see Sans whole and safe. Sans relaxed next to his dad, glad to be safe and alive, and getting this chance.

“Are you feeling well Sans?” Gaster asks him softly, his smile gentle, and it makes Sans instantly feel better to have his dad here.

He can’t help but grin, soft and eased, soothed to be here and now, “Yeah. _Feline_ fine.” He grins as Gaster chuckles, and Ripper snorts before making little _meow_ noises.

Sans tilts his head towards him with a grin, “Hey _meow_ , don’t be _mousing_ on my pun play.”

Ripper snorts again and Gaster laughs. He wraps an affectionate arm around Sans, pulling his son into a tight hug, and Sans _freezes_.

He can’t say why he feels it, or even what caused it, but Sans is suddenly filled with overwhelming _anger._ Something _screams_ at him that someone who isn’t his bonded is too close, there’s a heavy body too close to his own, and it’s crushing and suffocating.

 _Fury_ fills him, although Sans can’t say why and its overwhelming and painful. Everything around them hurts suddenly, the air stings and the sun is so bright that he sees colors inverted and he can’t breathe, like something is sitting on his chest.

Anger like Sans has never felt burns through him, hurts his soul in a way its never hurt before and he feels a sudden spike of alarm from Lilith.

That only serves to make it worse, that there was something wrong with his mate, _his, his, H I S,_ and he has no idea how to control it.

His eye lights gutter out and his skull goes dark, and when he turns on Gaster, he hisses with fury that he has no idea where it came from, filled with anger he can’t contain, “ _Don’t touch me!”_

Lilith is pouring love and reassurance through the bond, promising she’s almost there, vowing he’s safe.

His father blinks at him, and just as suddenly as the anger came, it was gone, leaving Sans feeling empty and sick. Gaster drew away, pain and confusion twisting with hurt in his expression, and Sans thinks his father might just cry. Beside him, even Ripper frowns, “Dude?”

Guilt fills him, and Lilith pushes reassurance through their bond as she bursts through the back door, vaulting over the railing to get to Sans quicker. Low on magic or not, she doesn’t stop, as she rushes to him.

Sans blinks at his dad as Lilith skids to a stop on her knees, her voice a little frantic as she reaches for him, and Sans’s soul instantly feels better to have her near by. He feels _relieved_ to have her touching his arm, even as guilt swells in his soul and he stares up at Gaster with wide, shocked sockets.

“I.” he starts, feels his throat close with emotion, and he has no idea where that came from, “I’m sorry dad. I. Don’t know what that was. I’m so sorry.”

Gaster blinks at him, shares a worried look with Lilith, before he softens back towards Sans, “It’s fine Sans.” Guilt chokes him, and when Lilith reaches for his hand, all soft souled and reassuring, he takes her hand and squeezed for all his worth.

Lilith, with all her power and magic, held his hand gently as his breathing hitched and caught in his throat, even as Gaster looked at him painfully soft, “It’s okay Sans. It’s fine, I promise.” He vowed softly.

“You’ve been through a trauma, you are still processing what happened and it is okay, to not be okay.” Gaster reassured, and offered Sans a smile, “I’m not mad.”

Some of the fear lessened, and some of the panic fades from his soul, “Sorry.” He croaks, and he’s gentled by Lilith through their shared bond.

Gaster doesn’t bend, “Its fine Sans. I’m unharmed, nothing to apologise for.” He reassured quietly, and Sans took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Hey love,” Lilith starts quietly, her voice smooth monotone even as the bond lights up with affection, “Maybe this is too much too soon.”

Sans frowns at her as Felix shifts from one foot to the other nervously, gold eyes glancing to Sans then Gaster and back again. Sans knows he’s excited to spend time with his sister, and Sans doesn’t want to be the one to ruin this for them.

“Why don’t we go back in for a nap.” Lilith offers firmly, even manages to convince herself it’s what she wants, and the bond lights up softly between them.

Sans won’t do that to her, he won’t ruin her afternoon with her brother after they all almost lost her. He wants to spend the afternoon curled up to his dads’ side and watch her and Felix try to figure out their bond.

“Nah, I’m not that _bone_ tired.” He chirps at her, manages to sound bright even as his soul pulses tiredly in their bond, and Lilith’s sooths his.

Still, she smiles, his ultimate goal, as she reaches up to brush her thumb along his cheek, “You’re sure?”

He nods, relaxes a little further into his dads’ side, and even Ripper relaxes, “I’m sure. Go play with Felix, I think he might have a coronary if he doesn’t get some sister time.” He offers her a darker grin, and his soul shivers in glee with the dark joke he’s going to tell her, “And really, I think one soul replacement is enough.”

Lilith snorts, her side of their bond lighting up with the same amusement, “Yes, we’ve filled our quota of near-death experiences.” She _feels_ Gaster sigh more then she hears him, its so soul deep, and Lilith leans forward as she cups his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to his skull.

 _Oh geez._ The bond purrs happily with their affection, _I’m okay evil mage, go have fun with your bro._

Chuckling against his cheek, Lilith nods and presses another kiss, and Ripper makes a gagging noise when she does. Sans flips him off, accepting the affectionate nuzzling from Lilith that only makes Ripper laugh.

It settles his soul, eases him, and as Lilith pushes herself to her feet, Sans doesn’t worry about the weird dark feeling that passed through his soul. His dad was right, it was just the trauma of almost dying. He’d even out.

Lilith gives him one last smile before she turns to her brother, and Felix hesitates, “Sans okay?” he asks, glancing between them.

The bond pulses with reassurance, and Lilith gives Felix a tight smile, “Yeah, he’s fine.” She believes him, full heartedly. Sans can feel her trust, her faith in him in the bond, and he relaxes. “Okay, lets go.”

Felix glances between them, still uncertain, and Sans doesn’t doubt that if he thought that either of them were not okay, Felix would send his sister back into the compound to rest.

“Right.” He says slowly, squinting at Lilith then Sans, “Where’s Edge? Figured after Red’s blow up,” and Sans frowns at Lilith’s pulse of pain, and he wonders what happened to Red?

 _I’ll tell you later,_ Lilith whispered into the bond, feeling his confusion, and that weird, dark fleeing emotion swells again, and Sans’s just doesn’t understand it.

Sans pushes it away hard, as fast as he can before Lilith can catch wind of it, as Felix continues, “Edge would be sticking close to you two.”

Lilith shrugs, and her face becomes carefully neutral, but Sans can feel the turmoil, “He’s talking with Nightmare.”

Felix hums, and squints at his sister, speaking slowly, “Okay.” He shakes himself out, and grins, “Okay! Well, lets start the experiments!”

Lilith’s expression softened, and she gives Felix a confused look even as he looked delighted.

“We’re gonna find out what powers you stole from Sans!” Lilith rose a brow at his excited words and his bright grin, “So let’s find out what you can do!”

Lilith softens at his delight, and the true joy that shone through Felix’s expression helps ease the tension from her soul. She relaxes into her magic, and Sans feels it drain a little as it sparks at her fingers.

Still, he worries what that dark swell of anger was.

-

Leaning into Gaster forty minutes later, Sans smiles at Lilith as she laughs with her brother as they fail experiment after experiment to figure out what sort of magic Lilith would have received from Sans, if any at all.

Reaper had said they would get _something,_ the question was what and at this point Sans was guessing this was now just a matter of hanging out. Getting to spend time with Lilith without the threat of death hanging over head.

Glancing over to Gaster, looking passed him, Sans frowns when he sees Papyrus curled into their dad’s other side. Guilt rushes through Sans so hard, he has to look away from his brother, and puts up a shaky wall between he and Lilith so her afternoon isn’t ruined by whatever was wrong with him.

Papyrus had come out to spend time with them as well, to spend some bro time and laugh at their Den mates, and although Sans couldn’t _explain_ it, he was so irritated by this. Never, in his entire life, had he ever felt such annoyance, so much frustration towards his brother.

Never, _ever_ , had Sans been so infuriated by Papyrus, and Sans simply can’t _understand_ why he’s so angry. He can’t understand why he snapped at his brother, or why he was being so _mean_. He didn’t understand it, and he couldn’t control it.

It left Papyrus sitting quiet and sad against Gaster’s other side, as if this were his fault, and it just makes Sans feel _worse_. He apologised immediately, of course he had, and felt so terrible about it, felt like shit for putting that sad, hurt expression on his brother’s face. Felt like the worse brother in the world for hurting Papyrus, especially in light of what happened, when his brother was hurting too. Another casualty in this arc of utter bullshit.

He feels horrendous for lashing out in anger and he doesn’t understand _why_ he is.

Sans flinches when there’s a small sniffle from Papyrus and he wipes at his socket. Without looking, trying not to draw attention to the fact Papyrus was crying, Gaster takes his hand, and it makes Sans feel like a bag of shit. _He’d_ done that to his little brother. _He_ was the one who hurt his feelings, _he_ was the one who hurt his brother and Sans knows he has no one to blame but himself.

That guilt mixes with that weird, dark anger that he can’t quite get under control or understand why he felt it. His vision starts to swim and the colors bleed from his sight into that weird, inverted color.

“Maybe it’s more subtle.” Ripper calls out to the mages, distracting Sans from his spiralling, darkening thoughts that he was carefully hiding from Lilith, and the colour of his world snapped back into place.

Glancing to Ripper, he’s scratching at his chin, sockets squinting at them in thought, “Maybe its like, that weird instinct you both do?” Sans watches, his soul calming to see Lilith so happy, tilt her head along with Felix at Ripper’s words.

“I mean.” He shrugs, playing with his knife, pressing the sharp tip into the flat part of his finger, “You do that weird thing where you know shit’s about to hit, before it does. Battle mage instinct I think you call it? Maybe Sans has that? So maybe Lilith didn’t get his magic, but something else.” 

They blink at him, and sheer excitement lights up Felix’s face, “ _Instinct_!” he says in a rush of delight, the _duh_ is unspoken, but it still makes Lilith frown, “Fates on fire! What if Sans _did_ get battle mage instinct?” he looks excitedly to Lilith with a wide smile, “That’d make Sans like us. He’d be like a battle mage.”

Lilith squints, eyes narrowed a little with a frown, “I don’t think that’s how that works Felix.” She told him slowly, but it doesn’t dampen his excitement.

He holds up a finger as if to ask for a moment, and his eyes gleam gold with happiness, “I know how to check for it! One second!”

Lilith doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Felix is gone, tracing to the door just to move that much faster. Lilith laughs after him as she makes her way over to Sans, folding down to sit in front of him.

She glances to Papyrus, offers him a crooked grin to his shallow smile, before her worried crimson eyes flash back to Sans, “Everything okay?” she asks slowly, only now prodding at the weak wall between them.

Sans offers her a tired grin, “I’m not feeling great.” He admits, doesn’t tell her how much he’s actually hurting, or about the weird anger he can’t seem to shake.

Lilith sits up a little straighter, shoulders rolling back in alarm, “You want to go in and rest? It’s only been a few days.” She offers, but Sans is already shaking his head no.

He doesn’t want to ruin her fun with her brother yet, and he can endure this a little longer, “Nah. Its nice out in the sun. Have some fun with Felix.”

She hesitates, and Sans can see the conflict in her expression before Felix is back, quick enough that he’s panting a little, having traced his way through the compound.

Her brother is enough to sooth away any of the worry, and Sans relaxes, hell bound to have a good day.

“Okay!” Felix says in an excited rush, drawing the others all in, and finally, _finally_ , Papyrus isn’t looking so sad, “The easiest way to test for battle mage instinct is to use the ruler test!”

He glances at Lilith, still flushed, and thrilled, “Red ate, by the way.” The rushed, delighted words soften something in Lilith and Sans, and he grins at Felix as the mage pulls out a ruler, “So the ruler test. It measures your reaction time. The average person can catch a ruler between the six inch and the nine-inch mark. People with training and quick reflexes can catch it anywhere from three inches to five inches.”

He looks to Ripper, and picks up his hand, “Okay Rips,” Felix positions his index finger and thumb in an almost pinch, his fingers only a breath apart, “I’m going to drop the ruler, and you need to catch it.”

Ripper glances up at him with pitch black eye lights, squinting at Felix with suspicion, “Okay.” He says slowly as Felix lifts the ruler up and slightly above his fingers and lets it hang there for a moment. Ripper focuses hard on it, sockets narrowed into concentration. 

Without warning, Felix lets it go, and Rippers fingers close around the ruler at the three-inch mark. His expression lights up in delight, and Felix laughs, “Rips has the same reflexes as a race car driver!” he chirps happily as Ripper beams with pride.

Looking up, Felix flashes them all a grin, “Not bad. That’s a really good time. But battle mages, we _anticipate_ attack before it happens. We react before the thing even happens, its like an extra sensory organ or like, a sixth sense.” He tells them excitedly as he turns to Lilith and holds up the ruler.

“We just _know_.” He tells them as Lilith put her hand into position under the ruler, and crimson gleams in her eyes.

There’s a tense moment when Lilith barely breathes, and Sans leans forward. Felix lets go of the ruler, and Lilith’s fingers snap together immediately, catching the ruler at the very edge, just under the one-inch mark.

“Shit.” Ripper hissed as Sans’s eyes go wide, “No wonder you beat the hell outta us.”

Lilith gives him a small, sheepish grin and hands the ruler back to Felix as he laughs, “Oh, yeah. You all stood no chance. Not even a little bit.” He beams at Sans, and holds up the ruler, “Now, Sans here should be around average. Yeah, sure he’s great at dodging and can sense intent, but this is different. This is reflexes.”

Sans lifts his hand up as Felix stares at him expectantly, and his brow furrows, “You think I have battle mage instinct?”

Felix glances up at him with a grin, “We’re about to find out.” He says brightly and goes back to watching the ruler.

Sans does the same and tries to relax into the experience. He watches the ruler with the same intensity as Lilith but doesn’t feel any different. He feels the same, tired and maybe a little hungry, when he _feels_ something. Its like a small amount of pressure at the back of his skull, his magic stirs sluggishly in his bones, and he wonders if this is what having hair on the back of your neck standing up on end feels like.

That was how Lilith had described instinct, just _knowing_ when things were going to happen around you, sensing things before they happen. Not that time slows down or stops, just a warning system, and Sans’s fingers are already closing when Felix lets go of the ruler.

His fingers snap together quickly, faster then he’s ever moved before, catching the ruler in the same spot as Lilith, just under the one-inch mark.

The weird anticipation fades away, leaving Sans to stare gobsmacked at the ruler in this hand, sees and feels Lilith’s delight as Felix practically _squeals,_ “He’s a baby battle mage!”

“He’s not a battle mage Felix.” She tells her brother, but there’s a hint of excitement in her tone, a flush of pride in their bond that slips passed Sans’s very weak wall.

Lilith was proud of him, delighted that he had this gift, and he’s helpless to grin back at her.

“He’s a baby battle mage!” Felix insisted brightly, eyes gleaming gold in happiness that Sans can understand. Battle mages were the most social of the mage sub types, they hunted in _packs_ like wolves, more so then any other.

If Sans had battle mage instinct, it meant he was part of _that_ pack. He was like Lilith, and they could count on him to defend the others. Despite how lousy he was feeling that day, despite how he carried the guilt for snapping at his dad and brother, that makes Sans feel…good. Wanted and useful, and he grins at Lilith.

“Guess I’m like you now.” He offers her a slight shrug, giving the ruler back to Felix.

Lilith grins at him, soft and he can feel the affection in the bond again, “Sans, I love you for who you are.” And he flushes blue at her soft words and doesn’t hesitate when she leans in for a kiss, to lean into her. He presses his teeth into her mouth, nuzzling against her lips, his magic moving against her in something soft and lovely.

“You’re adorable.” Felix laughs even as Ripper fake gags again, and Lilith smirks at her brother when they break apart.

Lilith doesn’t move away, and lets Sans continue to nuzzle into her. For a while, at least, the weird anger has been forgotten, and Sans is happy.

“So.” Papyrus says slowly from Gaster’s side, and Sans is so happy to hear his brother’s voice, “If Sans got this instinct, what did Lilith get? She can’t use the patient trait, can’t summon bones. It must be something else.”

There’s a collective breath as they all think, and it suddenly dawns on Sans. It’s something he should have seen from the start, and he wants to face palm its so painfully obvious. He grins when he says, “She got a baby Judge.”

Everyone blinked at him, and Lilith frowned, “I don’t feel different.” She tells him slowly, and it makes Sans grin.

“You feel’n _Judgy_ Lilith?” Ripper asks from beside her. He’s all amused, sly grins and light laughter, and he doesn’t seem jealous or upset that she has gained something he lost.

“I’m judging you for that pun, but I don’t feel any different.” She tells him lightly with a soft grin, only able to be so gentle in the presents of just family.

Ripper snickers, “You realize that’s a pun, right?”

Lilith blinks and sticks her tongue out at him, earning a snort from Ripper. Still grinning, she turns back to Sans, and he instantly melts at her soft expression, “Okay love. How would we know.”

All the eyes shift to Sans, and he squirms a bit, “Well. You’ll be able to _see_ into other souls, if you press into it with your magic. See if they’re good or bad, look into them and see their intent.”

“You’re basically Santa Clause.” Ripper chirped, “You can look into their souls and see if they’ve been naughty or nice.”

Its silly and it makes Sans laugh softly, feeling happy and content, “Not quite. Think of it as a beta version of Sloan’s soul trait.” He glances around at their amused expressions, smiles when he sees Papyrus looking happy, “You’re probably not feeling it because you’re with the Den. You know all of us, or your soul recognizes us all. There’s no threat to examine.” Sans pauses, and grins, “I bet it’ll enhance your natural instinct.”

Felix brightens, “ _Dude!_ ” he glances to Lilith delighted and amused, “How would we know if Lilith has a Judge?”

“She’ll summon blasters. They’re the weapon of the Judge, its why no one else has something like them.” He pauses and grins, “Remember the cat that followed you around?” Lilith glanced up, grinning when she remembered the derpy cat skull that led her through his soul, and she nods. Sans nods with her, “It was a part of the Judge that must have bound to you.”

“So, hang on.” Felix interjects suddenly, grinning brightly, “How. How can Lilith summon a blaster?” there’s an excited lit to his voice, the same delight as a child with a new shiny toy.

Sans grins, “Use your soul. You need to _want_ to summon it, and just pull.”

Lilith frowns at him, “Love that’s not a great description on how to do it.” And her brow furrows.

Felix rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his sister by the upper arm to pull her up with him, “Whatever man, figure it out. Let’s go summon a blaster!”

Sans smiles when Felix pulls his sister to her feet, and the experiments continue anew.

Pride flushes through Sans when it doesn’t take her long to figure it out, with a little guidance from him through their bond, to show her how to do it. Blue magic swirled among the crimson in her eyes, dancing around each other like oil and water, soft purple misting as the colours meet. She pulled on magic that came from him, and the horse sized cat skull pops into existence.

Felix bursts into laughter at the tiny size of it, giggling over how small it was compared to Sans and Crow’s blasters, earning himself a bruising punch to the upper arm from his sister.

He doesn’t slow, “Lili. No. I can’t.” he wheezes as he laughs at Lilith’s little blaster, giggling like a child. Lilith raises a brow at him, sets her hands on her hips, annoyed that he laughs at her skull, but Sans can feel her amusement in the bond.

Its only when the cat’s little blip makes a return, does Felix completely lose control and he drops to his knees, laughing so hard only a choked noise of air comes out. “It’s so tiny!” Felix wheezes out, tears practically streaming down his face as he laughs so hard, he can barely speak, much to his sister’s annoyance.

 _Love?_ She whispers into the bond, pressing through the very thin wall Sans had erected easily, _How do I fire it?_

Sans grins and has an idea what’s about to happen. _Sorta like summoning a weapon. Pull from your magical reservoirs and aim._

Lilith smirks at him and nods. Felix is still laughing, nearly unable to breathe, when she tilts the blaster to look skyward and the little skull trills happily. Sans can feel her focus through the bond, can feel her loosen her iron clad control on her vice, and pour magic into the blaster.

The cat skull _purrs_ with delight, its eye lights gleaming in the same blue magic that was Sans’s, and magic gathers in its mouth. Felix stops laughing at the sound of the blaster’s whine and the feeling of hot crimson magic as Lilith pumped it into the blaster.

More magic filled its maw, no different from Sans or Crow’s, and blood red light suddenly fills its sockets. The softness and silliness is gone, and the blaster’s lower jaw drops, _unhinges_ from the upper jaw as more magic gathers.

Wiping the tears from his face, Felix blinks up at the tiny blaster and the impossible amount of magic gather in its jaws, and the lower jaw splits in half to make room for more. Grinning, Sans can feel her amusement as she lets it go, and the blaster fires into the sky.

Hot crimson magic shoots upwards, taring into the sky like a hot knife through butter, no different then a dragon’s flames. It illuminates the area in eery ruby light, as if they were in the apocalypse before the light fades, and the blaster disappears in a shower of glittering stardust.

Sans laughs, he can’t help it as Lilith spins around to grin down at her brother, her side of the bond filled with pride and amusement, her vice sluggishly rolling through the bond as she grins down at Felix, “The magic is based on the casters well of magic.” She tells him, understanding what Sans was getting at, “The size of the blaster has nothing to do with it.” 

Her vice is swirling in her soul, light and controlled as Felix pushes himself to his feet with a grin, but Sans can’t really hear him. Can’t really hear how Felix tells her to do it again, can’t really see Lilith clearly, can’t see her summon another blaster, can’t hear how the skull purrs happily as she easily summons another.

He can’t hear any of this as his eye lights gutter out and her vice sings a siren song to something in his soul. Something that shouldn’t be there, something that came with battle mage instinct, and was hiding within Lilith’s own fury.

She opens her vice a little more, easily controlled by _her_ , easily manageable by her, but so easily manipulative to _Sans_. It sings its song of power, makes him feel _good_ , pulling at that dark _something_ in his soul _,_ that anger, and a buzzing washes out his hearing.

He can’t see anything, the world is broken and distorted, the colours are inverted and his soul cramps in pain. Anxiety fills him, and he needs to call out to Lilith for help, that there’s something wrong, when _rage_ fills him, and he doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, or why he’s suddenly filled with frothing fury, but he _likes_ it.

“Sans?” Papyrus suddenly says his name, his voice taking a concerned tone that should have had Sans’s soul twisting in his chest, but the anger is too much, and he _can’t._ “Are you alright?” 

Sans can’t answer, can’t get the words past the sudden wedge in his throat to tell his brother anything, and anger chokes him. Papyrus reaches out to grasp at Sans’s shoulder, trying to offer what comfort he could, and it all suddenly becomes too much. Its too overwhelming, too bright outside, too many bodies near him, and the light, innocent touch from Papyrus, makes something _snap_ inside of Sans’s soul.

Anger suddenly flairs hard, pushing past Lilith’s sweet, sweet vice, making her drop her control over her blaster and it dissolves into glittering start dust, as she suddenly sits up and takes notice. Takes notice at the anger in Sans’s soul, that had built too much too fast, and Sans has no way to control it.

His soul boils in a fury that he’s never felt before, and when he looks to Papyrus and Gaster, he doesn’t see his family, but targets. He sees enemies that are far too close to his body, a body that’s been so abused in the past, hurt too many times, and there are too many people trying to hurt him.

His shiny new instinct spikes hard at the perceived threat, fuelling his sudden, uncontrollable anger. He doesn’t hear Lilith scream his name, as his magic surges to his fingertips to summon a wall of bones that are angled towards them. Gaster flinches back, shoves Papyrus behind him as bones filled with his virulent intent skimmed his shoulder and the karma eats away at his HP.

“Sans, stop!” Gaster yells at him, shoving Papyrus further behind him, trying to protect his youngest son, but Sans can’t hear him.

All Sans can hear is the loud, sharp buzz of his anger in his ear drums, like many nails on a chalk board and Sans can’t hear anything. His fingers feel numb, his soul burns with fury he can’t contain. It’s so overwhelming it hurts, its too bright and everything feels heavy.

He doesn’t see his father and younger brother, just threats and targets, and he’s numb as he lifts his hand, ready to summon bones with the intent to do harm. Intent to kill, as the instinct rode him hard, rode him to protect himself from all threats.

Gaster freezes, his sockets widen as Sans’s face contorts into fury, and magic sparks at his fingers.

With a cry of anger, Ripper threw himself at Sans’s back, his cane forgotten, and his spine ached as he wrapped an arm around Sans’s throat. Yet, instinct screamed at him, filling him with anticipation and he was ready for the attack. It was like something whispered in his ear how to do it, what to do next and he shifted his body, grabbed Ripper’s soul, and threw him as hard as he could.

Ripper bounced hard and rolled, and Sans was on him instantly, bone construct after construct after him, ripping through the ground as Sans tried to spear him. Ripper rolled to avoid the attack as Sans pushed himself to his feet, stalking after Ripper like he didn’t see _him._

Ripper cursed as Sans attacked him and didn’t let up, instinct and rage driving him on. With a filthy curse, it forces Ripper to short cut further away, trying to put some distance between them. Still, Sans doesn’t let up, and bone after bone is thrown at Ripper, most are dodged, and some were deflected with his short bladed knife as Ripper gives up ground, backing up.

He pants hard as Sans advanced, full of anger and violence, intending on hurting Ripper. Ripper’s still not okay, not fully healed and still not back to how he was before the attack by Chara. He still has healing sessions with Lola as she slowly mends his spine, careful with him so she didn’t fuse his vertebrae, and Ripper knows this is not good for him.

“Sans stop!” Papyrus yelled, panicked and upset, fear so thick in his voice it nearly choked him, grabbing at his brother’s shoulder to stop him.

Sans turned with a snarl, sockets empty and full of rage, magic sparking at his fingers with the intent to do harm. Intent to hurt his brother, and the sharp bone construct forms near Sans’s hand.

Papyrus freezes, sockets wide, stunned and hurt by Sans’s action, when Ripper threw himself into Sans again. He jammed his shoulder into Sans’s, and the shot went wide, and the bone imbedded itself neatly into the wall of the compound. The bone construct speared the building with a great _crack_ ; brick fell and glass shattered and someone inside the building screamed.

The protective spells around the compound shimmered and activated, wrapping around the building to protect it from any other attacks.

Sans doesn’t see it, doesn’t see any of this, doesn’t see Papyrus cringe in panic and hurt. Doesn’t see Ripper gasp when Sans drives an elbow back into his ribs, doesn’t see him sink to his knees as it jars his spine. Sans doesn’t hear him choke and his breath catch, sockets watering with tears and black tar.

Sans turned, sharpened bone construct in hand with the intend to harm when Lilith leapt out of a trace, her arms going around him to drag him down. She rolled him away from Ripper as he struggled and screamed.

Their bond lit up with pain, fury and panic as he fought against her hold; its only then does Lilith understand what’s happening here. What’s happening to Sans as she gets a taste of the fury that’s ripping his soul apart, an anger he has no idea how to control. Guilt floods her briefly before she shoves it away, knows it won’t serve her here as Sans screamed again, wild and tinged with madness. He strained hard against Lilith’s python like grip, struggling and kicking at any thing he can.

Lilith takes a breath, pulls all the love and affection she has for Sans, and shoves it at him through the bond. It clashes with the anger that’s taken root in his soul, coiled in tightly like a poisonous ivy that won’t let go, choking out Sans’s soul.

Sans _howls_ in agony, gurgles and chokes on his fury as he slips further into madness. He struggles hard against her, and he clings to the newfound anger. The love from Lilith can’t break through to Sans, not yet, his rage is still too great, creating a wall between them, and he’s still too overwhelmed with it. He clings to it, filled with such anger, that he can’t even see Lilith.

“Sans, please! Just calm down.” Lilith whispers into the side of his skull, but the words mean nothing as he falls further into the insanity of his resentment. The bond lights up with bitter anger and hatred, pure disdain as Lilith floods Sans with all the love and affection she has for him.

The bone construct that comes up through Lilith’s shoulder sends a shower of hot blood over the top of his skull and across Lilith’s face. She grunts in pain, and her fingers go numb in that hand, and its just enough for Sans to slip from her grip and short cut away, putting distance between them.

Panting and raw, and filled with emotions that he can’t control, Sans trembled as Lilith pulls herself off the bone and scrambles to her feet. Even then, Sans doesn’t see her, can’t feel her in their bond and doesn’t see his beloved mate. Just another threat attempting to hurt him.

Lilith steadies herself, stands in front of Papyrus as he and Gaster rush to Ripper, dropping to their knees in panic to make sure he’s okay. Comforting him as he pants in pain and trembles, leaning into their touches as they try to ease him. Lilith steels herself for what’s about to come, knows she needs to get Sans under control before the others come rushing outside and give him more targets.

Across the field Sans trembles, everything is too overwhelming and bright, so full of life around him its painful even as Lilith fills their bond with _love._ Dismay fills Lilith when none of it reaches his soul, hitting the wall of anger as Sans continues to shake.

Felix traces to her side, wide eyed and shocked, but helping her create a wall between Sans and the others, “Lilith, what the fuck is happening?” he asks her quietly, stunned and hurting in his own way at this perceived betrayal.

“Its my vice.” She hissed between clenched teeth, crimson eyes narrowing on her mate, and she tries to flood him with affection that doesn’t touch his soul.

Felix blinks at her, “But Sans has a patient soul, he can’t cope with rage.” Lilith only turns her head a fraction to give him a brief, flat look that makes him cringe.

“Felix.” She hisses, “Sans is a monster. They’re made of magic and _mercy_.” Felix winces again, “None of them can handle this kind of fury.”

Felix licks his teeth, looks worriedly to Sans, sees how he trembles and every line in his body is pulled taunt with tension. He sees how his sockets are as dark as the void, how everything that is _Sans_ has been ripped out by its roots, leaving only _this_ behind.

“What do we do?” Felix asks slowly, not taking his dark gold eyes from Sans, earning a helpless shrug from Lilith.

“We need to help him control his vice. I need to show him how to box it up and contain it. A soul session should do it, then I can do it for him the first time. I can _show_ him how, and help Sans keep it under his thumb. I just need to get him to calm d-“ she stalls, her voice peters out as Sans summons a Gaster Blaster, and she feels something _else_ stir in his soul.

She feels something old and powerful, feels the _Judge_ awaken, Sans’s new vice calling to it, encouraging it to react as if Lilith were a threat. The Judge pumps all its power into Sans when it feels all his anger, all his fury, and nightmares of the past drive him on.

 _How many resets?_ Sans whispers angrily into the bond, and Lilith freezes.

 _How many times was I tortured?_ Magic gathers in the massive blaster’s maw, and Lilith knows, _knows_ , Sans doesn’t see her.

 _How many times was I let down, and no one came for me?_ Anger, there’s so much anger, it blinds him, sends him spiralling down into places where even Lilith can’t reach him.

She floods their bond again, and again it hits a wall that won’t allow him to feel, _I came for you!_ She’s almost desperate to get him to hear her, _I came, I’ve always come for you Sans._ Nothing but blood boiling anger meets her, _I love you Sans._

Nothing comes back, Sans is empty of emotion save the anger he has no way to control.

“Lilith?” Felix asks quietly, swallowing hard, his eyes widening as he stares at Sans and the massive blaster and for a moment, all Lilith feels is despair.

This wasn’t fair, hadn’t Sans suffered enough? Hadn’t he been hurt enough? Why, _why_ did he have to get her vice, and for the briefest of moments, her shoulders hunch up around her ears, as grief swells through her.

Yet, Felix is frozen and afraid next to her, his breath catching as Sans’s massive blaster blots out the sun and casts a shadow over them. Behind her, Ripper, Gaster and Papyrus freeze with fear, and Papyrus makes a weak, small noise as the light from the blaster bathes them in the hot white light of its magic.

There are Den mates that _need her_ , and instinct slams into her like a wrecking ball, tosses out any grief or doubt, and the crimson of her eyes darken to the shade of blood as she summons her tiny blaster. Her steel core solidifies, and Lilith rolls her shoulders back to prepare to do the hard thing. The _hardest_ of things.

Her blaster is ripped into existence without Lilith breaking a sweat and she narrows her eyes on Sans, even as she keeps flooding the bond with adoration, and she keeps telling him how much she loves him. Nothing but anger echoes back, but she pays it no mind as she fills with determination.

The cat skull at her side hisses, its blue eye lights narrowed into angry slits and blue magic lightly swirls in Lilith’s eyes. The blue magic in her eyes is dull compared to the blood red of her true power, and the cat’s sockets suddenly fill with Lilith’s magic, flooding it with blood red light to glow like rubies.

Magic gathers in its mouth as Lilith pushes power into her blaster, and her skulls lower jaw unhinges and splits in half. It whines just like Sans’s does, humms with power and Lilith’s magic, and her expression goes cold as she focuses.

The temperature drops around them, the air cooling as the magic makes everything go cold, and Felix takes an unsteady breath, knowing that he could do nothing to make this any better, “This is how we’re gonna battle test it?” he calls over the sharp whine of the two opposing blasters.

Lilith nods, face impassive and voice like ice despite how her soul throbs in pain, but she doesn’t falter now, “Yes.”

She is still Death of Pandora, the one to do the hard thing, to keep the others safe, no matter what. Even if that means standing against Sans.

The blasters go off simultaneously with an explosion of sound, and the colour around them drains out to shades of grey as if the magic sucked it out of the world around them. Blue and red magic slam into each other with the force of a hurricane, and if Sans with the Judge and vice riding him hard is an unstoppable object, Lilith, filled with determination and rage, is the unmovable force.

Her tiny blaster doesn’t falter with her magic humming through it, it throws everything back at Sans that it gets. It goes toe to toe with the massive blaster on the other side of the field, as if it were just as large. It pumps just as much magic at Sans’s blaster and it doesn’t hesitate.

The bond lights up with fury, and with a shriek of rage, Sans throws more magic into his blaster, pushing it as hard as he could.

Yet, Lilith doesn’t falter. She barely breaks a sweat as she rips open the chains around her vice and unleashes her own deep well of magic and blood thirsty fury upon Sans. Sans is angry, Lilith doesn’t doubt it, but he can’t control his anger, and she knows it. Lilith’s own well of anger and control is far deeper than his, even with the Judge. It eclipses his in a way that Sans has never felt, and he’s never felt so small, compared to anyone.

His anger, at last, flickers with hesitation for a moment.

Her eyes flood black as real anger fills her, darkens her heart, and the magic from her blaster gushes forward as if someone had turned up the pressure. Her magic _pushes_ Sans’s back, pushes it towards his blaster, and the deeper she ascends into her vice, the more powerful the attack.

It takes Sans to his knees as she overwhelms him, as she refuses to give in to his anger. Sans gets a glimpse at the fury that Lilith casually always carries with her, sees it unleashed, sees it _controlled._ His uncontrolled anger shivers, his Judge shy’s away, and they retreat deeper into Sans’s soul, leaving him to face this alone.

He gasps, chokes on air and there’s a suddenly empty, cold feeling in his soul, like he’s been cored, hallowed out and alone. He trembles under the depth of Lilith’s vice, and he’s so, so tired. He trembles, and Sans gives in.

Her magic overwhelms him, and her tiny, cat skull wipes his massive blaster away with a great flash of crimson magic that turns his summoned construct to dust. Her magic blasts through it like it was nothing, sending a shock wave that shook the ground and blew back the air as the colour around them bleeds back.

Sans feels empty in the aftermath, cold in away as his vision clears and all he can feel is Lilith’s great, deep, _wrath_ flood the bond. Knows that he did that to her, knows he pushed her to the point of unleashing her vice, and the guilt eats at him. 

Then, just as quickly, and with practiced ease born of over three hundred years of war, Lilith clamps down hard onto her vice. She shoves it viciously back into its box as her own blaster purrs in delight before it fades back into nothingness. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her vice back in its mental chains, rebuilding the mental box to keep it contained, and _she’s_ back in the bond. There’s no anger between them, Lilith isn’t blaming him, and she immediately calms as the blackness fades from her eyes. 

Sans stares at her with a growing horror at what he had just done, sockets wide as sweat dripped down his skull as his eye lights come back, shaky and barely there, and Lilith floods the bond with _love_ again. She shoves as much affection, and kindness and every soft, loving memory they share, at him as hard as she can.

Exhaustion builds in Sans, still weary after his near-death experience, and his soul cramps at what they had just done. Guilt eats at him, chokes him, and when he manages to tare his sockets from Lilith, when he can’t bare to see her tremble and pant as exhaustion rolls through her any longer, to look behind her, Sans hates himself just a little more.

Sans flinches like he’s been struck, and something wet rolls down his face as guilt makes his soul roil. Something wedges thickly in his throat when he sees his dad, his little brother and Ripper on the ground behind Lilith, echoing back the horror he’s staring at them with. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, no words make their way passed the utter guilt in his soul. Nothing can get passed the clog that chokes him. Guilt eats him alive, and tears continue to well at his sockets at the utter shame that fills him.

“Sans.” Lilith’s voice is cool and calm, a balm to his soul, and she’s lowered herself a little to seem like less then a threat. It makes Sans laugh hysterically, as if Lilith wasn’t _always_ a threat, as if Sans hadn’t just forced that upon her, “Sans its okay.”

Her hands come up in surrender in front of her and she takes a confident step towards him, “Sans, its okay.”

He tries to speak, tries to ask for help, when horror fills him as that soul deep, blinding anger starts to bubble again in his soul. It’s uncontrolled and building again in earnest even as Sans struggles and fails to push it back. It bubbles hotly in his bones, and even Lilith’s breathing catches when she feels it in their shared bond.

“Sans, love look at me.” She orders him, voice firm even as she shoves softness back at him through the bond, “Sans its okay. I can help you.”

 _Love, listen to me. It’s okay, I know what’s happening. I know how to help. I can show you how to control this._ She offers in the bond, trying desperately to get ahead of the building vice that’s swamping Sans’s vulnerable soul, and failing as his eye lights gutter out again as he whimpers.

Panic and horror war in Sans and he can’t get the words out, can only send a confusing tangle of desperate, conflicting emotions to Lilith through the bond, and he just can’t tell her how much everything hurts. He can’t tell her how afraid he is, afraid he’s going to hurt her or someone else. Hurt someone who can’t shake off his attacks so readily as the battle mages could.

He was lucky, Lilith had the healing trait. What if he had hurt his dad? Or Papyrus or Ripper? He had nearly killed Rips, could have crippled him and Sans has no idea if his attack will have any lasting damage.

He can’t be a threat, and that’s all he was now.

“Sans.” There’s a warning edge to Lilith’s voice, like she knows what he’s about to do, and is trying to talk him out of it as she takes in all his confusion, pained emotions, and tries her best to sooth him. She gentles him as best she could, and it sends tears spilling down his cheeks from empty sockets.

“Sans, don’t,” she tries, tries to keep him near as the compounds protective spells wear off as Sloan waves them away as she burst out onto the porch.

“What the fuck is going on!” she spits, her own vice spiking hard and pushing against the cage she keeps it trapped in, her eyes shining azure.

“Sans no!” Lilith shouts, moves to get her hands on him when he’s gone. Short cutting away, fleeing someplace else. Someplace he wouldn’t be a threat, somewhere he could isolate himself and he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Sloan goes ignored as Lilith’s eyes go wide with a curse, and Felix is by her side. They instantly spin in opposite directions, pulling in a tight circle as their eyes scan the area around them, “Lilith, where is he?”

She can hear the frantic tone in his voice, and Lilith knows that Felix wants to find him just as much.

“I don’t know.” She sounds breathless, and a sliver of terror strikes her soul. The fear makes her hands shake, she clenches them into fists and looks around.

Nothing but soft green grass and a blue sky greet her, and frustration wells. She presses into the bond harder, feels Sans’s soul deep terror, fear over himself, and panic meets her. Lilith closes her eyes and tries to push harder into the bond, tries to see where he is, when all that meets her is a horrible mixture of _panic/fear/FURY._

“Lilith?” There’s a tense tone to Felix’s voice that instantly rubs Lilith’s raw nerves the wrong way. This isn’t fair, they were so close, this shouldn’t be happening.

“Lili?” he tries again, making Lilith flinch and her own annoyance spikes hard in her soul, fighting down her own panic.

“Give me a second!” she snaps at him, making Felix flinch, and guilt rocks Lilith to her core. It wasn’t Felix’s fault; he’s only trying to help. “Sorry.” And he nods, he gets it, he does, “I’m trying to find him.”

Felix nods again, guards Lilith as she sinks into their bond, feels Sans’s soul boil as his anger overtakes his panic and fear, feels it twist his soul into knots until even Lilith can’t reach him. Yet, in all that anger, all that confusion and pain, she gets a glimpse of a familiar bed.

Lilith goes stiff, eyes wide and magic rushes through her, “Bedroom.”

Its over in mere moments, so much chaos and pain, and it took only a few moments. They were so close to their happy ending, so close they could taste it, and Lilith doesn’t doubt that right now, Fate is laughing at her.

The mages share a significant look as they steel themselves for what comes next, and they both know what needs to be done.

Sans needs help, and he needs to control his vice before it burns him from the inside out. Yet, as someone who has never had to control that kind of anger before, as a monster to never taste that kind of fury, they both know what needs to happen, and Felix winces in sympathy.

Lilith needs to put Sans’s vice back in its box, needs to show him how to keep it contained to save him and they both know she can’t do it from this side of the bond. She knows that she can’t help him from here, and if they have any hope to save Sans, she needs to initiate a soul session.

Lilith’s chest hitches in pain, when she wonders what she is willing to do, to save his life. How deep into his soul, was she willing to push into?

Felix doesn’t have to ask that question, and he winces, “Sorry Lili.”

Shaking it away, Lilith pushes her doubt and fear down, tries to flood the bond with affection and love again, even when she’s met with anger and bitter resentment, “We need to get to my room.” She tells her brother weakly.

Felix is nodding along with her, by her side always, always there no matter how dangerous, and he rolls his shoulders back to stand with her. They’re gone in the blink of an eye, tracing to the porch, reappearing next to Sloan and her confused, angry expression.

“I’m sorry.” Sloan’s expression softens at the desperation in Lilith’s voice, and worry washes away any anger, “Ripper needs you. He’s hurt, Sans he…” her voice goes thick, and Sloan’s eyes go wide in shock to hear any emotion like that in Lilith.

“I got him.” Is all she says, and Lilith knows that Ripper and the others are in good hands. Knows that Sloan will take care of him, doesn’t even hesitate to vault over the banister, as Lilith and Felix turn for the compound, tracing as quickly as they can through the building.

They ignore all the questions from the others, Lilith doesn’t even pause for Edge, coolly side steps him, all of them, to trace through the house. She pours everything she can into her bond with Sans, tries to sooth him, promises she’s coming until she and Felix are at the top of the stairs.

Thick, heavy magic swirls in the tight quarters as they come to the hall where their rooms are. Where Lola is staring horrified at the door of Lilith and Sans’s bedroom where the heavy, violent magic is coming from. It slams against the door and the walls, something cracks the wall outside their room, and the walls tremble.

Glass is behind Lola, gripping her shoulder tightly, like he’s ready to short cut her away, his expression pulled into a tense, angry scowl as he glares at the door. The sounds of destruction increase, the magic gets heavier, and even Red pokes his head out of his own room with a frown.

“What’s going on?” Lola asks softly as Lilith shoots passed her to the door to her room, and she instantly tries the doorknob. It’s locked and the door shimmers with her rooms protective magic.

Lilith curses darkly, and there’s another loud bang from inside the room that makes Lola flinch back into Glass’s big frame.

Huffing a sigh, Lilith ignores them all behind her, even as Felix shifts at her back, and she slaps the wood of the door, “Sans! Sans open the door. It’s okay!” she calls to him through the bond and aloud, “Baby, please.”

There’s no answer beyond the sound of thrashing magic and the bond is silent save the maddening anger. There’s no other emotion, nothing but fury and panic, and Lilith presses her forehead against the door as grief swells. She doesn’t dare to imagine the pain Sans is in now. The fear under all that terrible anger, the confusion. 

“Sans got Lilith’s vice.” Felix explains quietly, giving Lola and Glass the _too long, didn’t read_ , “And it’s uh. Made him lose his fucking mind.”

Lilith winces and looks down at her feet, and tears fill her eyes. Inside their room, Sans was losing his mind, succumbing to the madness of his newfound fury, falling into some place no one could reach him.

Lilith had to try.

They would have to break through the shielding around her room to do it, and carefully placed outside their door, was Lilith’s switch, Sans’s telescope, and the star map.

Behind her Lola winces, “He can’t cope.” She says softly as Lilith stares at the three, precious items that Sans had saved before taking his anger out on the rest of their room. “He’s a monster.” Lola states the obvious in sheer awe, “He’s a pure soul. Mercy and magic, he would never have….”

Felix nods as Lola winces. Behind her, Glass encourages her back a step while trying to crowd in at her back.

“Yeah.” Felix sighs as Lilith lets a single tear slip down her face, pressing her hand into the wood of her door and she squeezes her eyes shut. “He um. He got Lilith’s battle mage instinct too.”

“Great.” Glass roughly hissed from behind Lola, “So not only is he losing his shit, but he’s also fucking more dangerous now?”

Felix cringes and nods, “Yeah.” The word is said slowly as something breaks inside the room, and everyone flinches.

Lilith takes a breath and lets it out slow.

She is not losing him now.

Moving slowly, she bends to gather the items Sans had deemed worthy to save, the three items he safe guarded from himself, and slips them all into her inventory. Even his telescope, the same one Akkar’s sister helped him pick out, and wipes the single tear from her cheek bone.

She steels herself, prepares for what comes next, and strangles any doubt she may have had in its cradle, as she turns to Felix, “Get this door down.”

Felix’s expression turns to ice as he nods, and they all know what needs to happen. They all know what comes next, and Lilith of Pandora, always did the hard thing. Did the right thing, even if it wasn’t the right thing.

Felix swallows as he switches positions with Lilith, summoning an axe to break through the protective spells and the wood. Lilith’s expression goes colder as she summons her armour and prepares for a fight even as Lola freezes next to her.

Green magic fills her eyes as she glances between her brother and sister, and knows that deep down they’re both right, but what they are suggesting is a last resort. She remembers in the war, young mages who succumbed to their vices like this either died, where killed when they became too dangerous and couldn’t be reached, or a trusted Den mate would force a soul session.

They would have to hammer in _deep,_ nearly to their centre to help get their vice under control.

That last option was always a _last option_. Only used if all other methods were exhausted, only if reaching for the fallen mage didn’t work. When all other attempts failed to reach the mage, who had ascended too deeply into their LV and vice, and they couldn’t be reached.

A forced soul session that deep _could_ be violent and brutal on both parties. It could shatter trust and corrupt bonds. It could end lives and be for nothing, if the party who succumbed to their vice couldn’t be reached.

Fates knew how that would go for a monster.

Its not what Lola wants for her sister, even if she acknowledges that it maybe Sans’s _only_ hope, they need, for his sake, to try to talk him down.

Felix raises the axe as Lilith finishes summoning her armor, is fixing her gauntlet and allows her soul to go cold. She stops feeling, tries not to feel Sans’s burning hot fury and firmly puts a wall up, brick by brick, between them.

She spreads her feet to widen her stance and looks ready to charge into her room and do just that.

“Felix stop!” Lola shouts at them, and both battle mages look to her with dark, narrowed eyes that make Glass try to pull her back a step.

Lola refuses, “I know what your doing!” she looks desperately to Lilith, “If you do this, without trying to talk him down, you could ruin all the trust you’ve built up to this point.” Lilith winces, and that at least, lets Lola know that she’s still there.

She’s still herself, even as Sans barrages his side of the bond with anger like vicious waves against the shoreline in a storm.

Stepping forward, she shakes off Glass’s light hold, and Felix slowly lowers his axe. When Lola speaks, her voice is soft and desperate, “Lilith, you did not go through all that to lose him now. _Talk_ to him. You’ve talked plenty of recruits from the edge before and plenty more then that had lost it to their vice.”

There’s a crash from inside the room, Sans’s screams of pain echoes sharply through the tight space, and Lilith flinches when the bond lights up in agony, “Lola, listen to him.” She offers weakly, “He can’t keep going like that.”

She nods and gets it. Lola does, it must be unbearable to hear Sans like that, to feel him falling apart in her soul. “I know. And if the time comes, I’ll help you initiate the session.” Lilith flinches at the promise, but softens towards her sister, “But _try_. Talk to him.”

The sound of a door opening and closing downstairs echoes dully through the compound, but Sloan’s voice is high and panicked when she calls for Lola, making them all wince.

Wave after wave of pain rolls through Lilith, but deep down, she knows Lola is right. She knows that Sans needs her to _try,_ and their relationship would be better for it.

“Okay.” She whispers wetly, feels terrible even as Lola’s shoulders slump in relief, “I’ll try.”

There’s another wave of pain that steam rolls the wall that Lilith tried to put between herself and Sans, as he spirals downward, falling further and further away from Lilith.

Sloan screams for Lola again, there’s a hint of fear in her voice that has them all flinching.

Lilith sighs, and let’s go of her armor, “Go, Ripper needs you.” Her eyes go wide and Glass curses behind her. He wraps his big body around her tiny one, and they’re gone in a blink, leaving Felix and Lilith outside her room.

They both turn towards the door, and there is a sick twist of nostalgia, as the war and their time in Snowdin overlap in their mind, and Sans _shrieks_ in pain. Lilith remembers her time underground well, remembers sitting outside of Sans’s room as Lola set the bones in his hand, and feeling just as helpless.

A full body shiver runs down Lilith’s body as she stares helplessly at the door, feels his panic flood their bond, only to have that, and everything that made Sans, _Sans,_ drowned out in the storm of madness.

He can’t feel Lilith, can’t hear her either, and when he howls with agony, magic thrashing to destroy their room, Lilith has never felt so helpless. Felix quietly takes her hand, and together they watch the door, feel the violent magic swirl, and are powerless to do anything other then watch.

 _Sans_ Lilith calls through the bond, squeezing her brother’s hand as she pushes warmth and devotion towards him, and only has indignation as her response.

They share a defeated look, and the two battle mages are beat, knowing that right now, until Sans calms, there is absolutely nothing they can do to help Sans.

He screams again, his misery like a blow to their souls that echoes loudly through the compound. His grief is something tangible, and Lilith and Felix, for the first time in their lives, can do absolutely nothing about it.

There is no enemy to fight, nothing to be defeated; it leaves them feeling empty and only able to soak in their failures as Sans screams again.

And they are utterly helpless.


	44. A Short Intermission in all That is Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith is doing her best to cope with Sans's madness, when she find herself needed to help someone else. 
> 
> Neither she or nor Error are happy about it at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! 
> 
> A day behind but we made it! Yesterday was Pokemon Go's community day and well, it was Machop! MACHOP MAN! Green dude! 
> 
> But we're here now! 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to and for the wonderful Perville, who won the Twitter raffle, and had a prompt that fit in perfectly among this arc! I really hope you like it Perville! I had a lot of fun with this chapter and it fit in perfectly. 
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support and reading Haven :) 
> 
> WARNING: Sans is still spiraling into madness caused by his Vice, and suffering from uncontrollable anger and grief.

Exhaustion wells through Lilith as she sits on the steps near the front door, her knees pulled up and together with her hands pressed tightly into the lifted joints. She sighs softly and craves the earthy taste of a cigar, or maybe even one that burned with the artificial taste of a dessert. The things she would do for one was long and filthy, definitely criminal, despite the fact she had quit smoking the moment she had become Frisk’s legal guardian.

It had seemed important at the time, to set a good example for her baby sister, to show her that health was important. That she should treat her body with the respect that Lilith had never afforded herself growing up.

In the war, Lilith had never thought she would have survived to see the end of it, never dreamed that peace and love were waiting for her on the other side. Never thought that she would get to have a lover like Sans on her side, never thought she would get to find her Den, and simply hadn’t cared what happened to her body.

She, and her siblings, had found their peace and pleasure while at war in any way they could, in an array of different activities. Anything to keep their minds off the threat of death, to have precious snatches of joy, regardless if you found them in a bottle, in a plant or in someone’s bed, had all been to cope. It really hadn’t mattered, as long as you got those stolen snatches of peace.

Even afterwards, the years before Frisk, when she and her much smaller Den had done their _walk about_ and had cut loose and gone a little crazy. They had drank and partied with the Valkyrie, learned to snowboard with other mages, hunted bounties for the Coven and all the while they struggled in their post war lives before they settled back in Ebott.

Even when they did return to their Den’s territory, after years of being away from home, she hadn’t taken great care of herself. Her sleep had been plagued by nightmares, she had smoked cigars and weed, drank a bit too much, and was far more vicious back then with barely contained fury.

Therapy had helped, had helped ease some of the pain in her soul from the war, gave Lilith _real_ coping mechanisms that helped her get her shit together.

Yet, even then, it had been for Frisk that Lilith had dropped that particular habit. However, right now, with Sans’s grief, his fear, panic, and anger in their shared bond singing through her, taring himself apart, she really considered cracking.

It wouldn’t be hard, she still had a box buried somewhere in the treasure room. She had hidden it away where her little sister would never find them, and right now Lilith would do anything to take the edge off the building emotional stress that weight heavily on her soul.

She still might, but right now, she sighs and buries her emotional distress under a professional layer of cool calm, no different then the war and pretends that she’s fine. Everything is okay, nothings wrong and she isn’t falling apart inside every time Sans succumbs to his shiny new vice and screams into the empty, destroyed space that was once their bedroom.

She keeps telling herself, she’s okay, even as she feels the vice tare Sans to shreds. Feels it piece by painful piece in their shared bond, feels his soul _give,_ and Sans falls deeper into madness until he can’t even feel her. He can’t recognize Lilith beyond a threat, and he’s lashing out at her through the bond.

The accusations of hurting him, of leaving him, tare Lilith up the most, even when she knows that its untrue, and its just the vice lying to him. It tells these things to drive him further into isolation, to control him harder and divide him from Lilith a little more.

Still, Lilith keeps talking to him, both at the other side of the door to their shared room and over the bond, telling Sans how much she loves him. That’s she’s there, he just needs to talk to her. Maybe if she keeps telling herself she’s okay, she’ll believe it long enough to get through hearing Sans sobbing on the other side of the door when part of him surfaces and realizes what’s happening.

Yet, the fear keeps him from listening to Lilith and her offer of help, before he degrades back into the roiling madness of his anger, and back to where Lilith can’t reach him.

Five days she had listened to it and felt him fall apart, helpless to do anything in terms of helping him, utterly powerless to do anything. Lilith isn’t sure how much longer she can hold out before she is forced to initial a soul session, and drive her magic directly into the very core of his being to forcibly take control of his vice.

Distantly, she knows Lola is right, that if she does this, Sans may never forgive her. May never reconcile that she forced herself so deeply into his soul without permission, that she could hurt him if she was too rough.

His nightmares had almost made her crack. It made her already stony heart go so cold to feel his utter terror at night, that it woke her from a dead sleep long before his screaming had. It wasn’t his nightmares that drew out such trepidation, such soul deep terror.

Oh no, Sans’s nightmares were child’s play, _watered down,_ compared to hers. Three hundred years of utter horror from war where now on display for him to peruse. Three hundred years of blood shed were his to bare witness too, for him to share in the battles they lost, the missions gone so horribly wrong and so much death.

The vice, all that anger, also drew out all her bad memories to feed from, forced Sans to see the worse parts of the war, the parts that still could terrorize her at night. Even the memories of their successes, their victories and wins were tainted with death, and more then one success had memories of her friends and allies dying. She had watched them slaughtered by the dozens in battles over territory and bases, watched dragons torn from the sky as their hot blood showered like pouring rain over them. She had watched Valkyrie being torn from the sky, their mounts torn to shreds, and mages alike ripped apart.

The war had been brutal, and they had been vicious in order to survive it. It had taken years of therapy for Lilith to sleep as soundly as she did now, years of therapy to get halfway to okay, and all that horror was suddenly being shoved into Sans. It’s a fresh and horrifying wound, one that keeps him from sleeping and slipping further into the madness and anger.

Lilith scrubs at her face and tries not to let it bother her at this moment, trying to focus on getting through the next ten minutes before she goes back to sitting outside of the bedroom where Sans has locked himself. Ten minutes of peace, despite the grief that doesn’t belong to her in her soul, before she would go back to listening to Sans sob on the other side of the door.

Ten minutes, and Lilith would bottle her own feelings of fear and hurt, to go sit coldly outside the door and wait for an opening in all that anger to inject love and peace to Sans. Something, anything, to help him to calm down so they could actually talk. 

Thus far, those openings where few and far between. Add to all that, Sans hasn’t been eating great or sleeping well, and he was circling the drain faster by the day. His health deteriorated quickly, each passing day he grew a little weaker, draining Lilith of her magic as he struggled to rebuild his core magic, weakening with each roll of hunger and each horrific nightmare.

And with all this, all this pain from Sans, Lilith hasn’t had the capacity to even think about Red’s needs. He was still hurting, and his own issues unresolved and Nightmare was still refusing to send him home. Yet, he had isolated himself to his room, and that’s where he stayed. He wasn’t doing _any_ better, and now that Lilith was camped out listening to Sans cry, she had heard his shout of panic more then once.

Sans wasn’t the only one suffering from nightmares that no one else could help him with, and she would give anything, _anything_ , to help either of them. 

Lilith scrubs her face and huffs a deep, painful sigh, and knows she needs to make a decision soon.

“You look tired Lilith.” Toriel says softly, drawing dull brown eyes up to her with a frown, and Toriel’s soft green eyes are watching her with a sadness that only someone her age would understand.

Lilith snorts and doesn’t disbelieve it for even a moment, “No doubt.” She shrugs, voice rough with exhaustion and she forces herself to sit up a little straighter. Sitting like a soldier rather then someone who was feeling her lover fall apart at the seams, “Have the girls been good?”

Toriel frowns at the sidestep in conversation, “Yes.” She tells Lilith slowly, knows that Lilith would have rather chewed her own arm off then to ask Toriel for help, after everything that happened with Asriel.

Yet, as it was, they were out of options, and Lilith never faltered to rise to the occasion of what _needed_ to happen, and they needed someone to take care of the girls while this played out.

Toriel knows this isn’t an olive branch, but she’s taking this ask for help as such, as a way to get back into their good graces for things that were not particularly either of their faults to start with, “They’ve been very good.” She offers with a gentle smile and it eases something in Lilith.

The girls, at least, were cared for.

The moment Red had dropped them back home after the attack, Sloan had done the smart thing and found a safe place to send the three kids, away from the trauma and distress. Away from being traumatized by all this horror, and although Grillby had been the first ask, they did not shy away from thanking Toriel when she was able to step up.

There were rules, of course. Homework must be finished, bedtime was nine thirty, and Asgore was not allowed near any of them. Wine had a hard time letting Hope anywhere near Toriel, and had it not been for Felix’s gentle consoling, Lilith doubted he would have let his kid go.

Yet, what other choice did they have? More victims to this scenario caused by a jealous little man, and part of Lilith wishes he could have suffered, just a little more.

Lilith nods, and tries to relax. The girls have been gone for thirteen full days and counting, thirteen days since the attack, and so much had happened. So much suffering, and they weren’t done yet.

Lilith _is_ tired, and the worse has yet to come, she’s sure.

“Good.” Lilith says at length, and still the exhaustion lasts.

Toriel gives her a worried look, glances to the compound with a frown before she looks back to Lilith, “Is.” She hesitates, knows that she’s only brought the girls home for a short time to pick up some much-needed items and a moment to see their guardians before they are shuttled back to Toriel’s home for safe keeping, “Is Sans okay?” she asks softly.

Lilith doesn’t so much as flinch even as their bond lights up in horror and fury, and a well-timed shriek from Sans more or less answers Toriel’s question. Lilith stares at her blandly, her monotone voice long dead of emotion she feels very deeply, “He’s great.”

Toriel winces at that as much as the scream that was muffled from the walls of the building, and Lilith knows Sloan needs to reapply the silencing spells.

Toriel nods, opens her mouth as if to say something else when Hope comes slowly out the front door, and the monster slowly closes her mouth. The girl moves slowly across the steps, coming down them two at a time, but her expression is pinched and upset, like she doesn’t want to go, and Lilith doesn’t blame her.

This was her home, they were her people, not Toriel, and she wants to stay.

Its just…not safe.

Hope pauses, stares at Lilith with intense green eyes, Lilith staring back just as firmly, before the child threw herself at the battle mage. Lilith catches her easily, strong muscular arms go around her tightly, and she hugs the kid.

Hope squeezes her briefly, her breathing a little shaky before she lets go, “Bye Lilith.” She says in her small voice, green eyes glistening with tears that she wouldn’t shed in front of Wine and Felix. 

Lilith offers her a shallow smile, the best she’s got as Mercy comes out, “I’ll see you soon. Be good for Toriel.”

Hope nods waiting for her compatriot as Mercy stomped down the stairs, slamming her tiny foot into each step to show her displeasure to all around her. Still, even upset as she is, she throws herself into Lilith just as fiercely, her arms going around her just as tightly.

Lilith takes her hug too, lets it sooth her tormented soul, and uses it as fuel to shove love into Sans that he just can’t feel.

Mercy pulls away first and Lilith lets her go, and her tiny face is contorted into fierce determination, “You pull him out of this shit.” She tells Lilith fiercely, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a shallow smirk. No doubt Edge would be very distraught to hear her curse, but Lilith lets it slide.

Lilith nods, “I will kiddo.” She all but promises, and she’s so, so tired.

Mercy nods, “Good. And when your done with Sans, kick Red in the ass will you?” her spunk makes Lilith’s grin lift a little more, “He needs it.” She reassured Lilith, pulling herself tall.

Lilith’s mouth lifts into an almost real smile, “I will.” She promises, and Mercy nods firmly, like its all been settled and she’s just waiting for Lilith to make it right.

Lilith isn’t sure this is a battle she can win, and quickly shoves down the self doubt, shoves it deeper then even her vice and she refuses to give that any traction. She just needs to sleep, and once she has a clear head, she’ll be able to look at the problem objectively.

Frisk comes out last, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and she drags her feet as she joins the others. She’s looking sad and hurt at her sister, her hands tremble as she signs, _I want to stay_.

Lilith feels her heart squeeze and she actively fights to stop her shoulders from caving in, “I know.” She says and signs to her sister, “But its not safe.”

Frisk’s face crumples, _Sans wouldn’t hurt me. I can help!_

Lilith shakes her head no and is quick to hide her guilt from the bond. She won’t give any leeway for the vice to latch onto her feelings, and will give nothing but soft love from her, “Sans isn’t himself. He’s not in control right now.” She explains gently for what feels like the hundredth time, “And I can’t protect you and help him at the same time.”

It crushes Lilith’s soul to see Frisk’s expression crumple further and her shoulders hunch up.

“You’ll come home soon. I promise.” Frisk looks up at that, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, and determination shines at Lilith.

It’s the kind of determination that calls to her, the kind that surges in Lilith when Frisk nods, and Lilith knows, _knows_ , she has to figure this out.

She pulls Frisk into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before she whispers, “I love you Frisk.”

Frisk hugs her back, squeezing as hard as she can before she lets her sister go with a frown, _I love you too Lilith_.

Lilith gives her a soft smile, and ruffles her hair, “Be good for Toriel.” Frisk gives her a smile, and the two girls behind her nod before they turn to shuffle to Toriel’s car, and Lilith sighs as she watches them go.

_That’s_ when it happens.

Because, Fate forbit they get just _one_ day without a fucking disaster.

A pixelized portal snapped into existence near the trio of little girls, and Lilith instantly feels herself tense, and expects the worse despite how her instinct stays blessedly quiet. There is no threat coming from the portal, no need for concern, and Lilith finds the irony that the one time she didn’t listen to her instinct when faced with a friend, it nearly got her killed.

She won’t make the same mistake twice, and even if Error wears the face of an enemy, if everything in her is saying be chill, Lilith is going to listen.

Except, its not her that causes the problem this time.

Error comes through his portal looking at something on his phone, he’s done it a hundred times and likely will do it a hundred more. Their world is peaceful, a kind one, in comparison, and Error doesn’t need to be constantly aware of his surroundings. He was working things out with Nightmare, they were on _better_ terms, he could relax here. No different from Nightmare’s stolen world. 

Yet, his sockets are on his phone, his miss matched eye lights focusing on whatever is on his screen, and he’s not paying attention to where he’s going.

Fate, Lilith is now _certain,_ is getting back at her for the whole spitting in the face of Death, laughing in the face of Fate and dared the Universe to try her. Her hubris was coming back around for her, and clearly, the universe _was_ trying her.

There was _no other explanation_ for the utter shit show her afternoon was about to become as Frisk looked back at Lilith, pouting and sad, and not at all paying attention to her surroundings, to wave goodbye.

Lilith’s hand was already part way up to wave back, her eyes widening as she watches the coming commotion, and knows that she’s too far and there is nothing she can do beyond wincing. Frisk turns with her sad smile, intending on following the other two girls to Toriel’s car and turned directly into Error’s chest.

It wasn’t a hard hit, an accident in its truest form as Frisk turns softly into him, her scared vocal cords letting out a rough huff of air.

For Error though, that touch, as light as it was, with Frisk lightly pressing up into his frame by accident, sent him into a cascade of panic that Lilith couldn’t understand or predict.

The moment Frisk ran into him, he froze, his entire body going stiff as his sockets went wide and his eye lights flickered. His entire body flinched as Frisk tripped, and she innocently grabbed his hand to steady herself.

Lilith may not understand it, doesn’t need to in reality, but she knows what panic in Sans’s face looks like. It doesn’t matter what version of him wears his face, or where they came from, Lilith knows a panic attack in Sans when she sees it.

What she sees in Error, despite all his power, despite his strings, and all that he is, he is still overwhelmed with pure, unadulterated panic.

Error himself wouldn’t have been able to explain it, his time from _before_ was lost to the timelines, his memories of before are shaky at best. They’re unreliable, jumbled and mixed up. Error can’t remember what happened when he was someone else, he can’t remember his happy endings or his deaths. Not properly and not in order.

Yet, the feelings had remained, the hurt and sadness. The grief of an overwhelming _loss_ , swallows his broken soul. Fear shakes him to his core, and his breathing catches.

Lilith watches in growing horror as he stiffens up, sockets widening in panic and horror before he does _something_. His eye lights roll up into the back of his skull and they’re filled with glitchy little words that are so full of static that Lilith can’t actually read what they say.

It might be his name, or an error 404 message, but she can’t be sure as his face contorts into pain and he collapses when his legs fold under his weight. He makes a noise, like a scream that has Frisk backing up towards a horrified Toriel with wide, terror filled eyes.

Lilith is on her feet and running before she’s even really aware of doing so, just desperate to get to _~~Sans~~_ Error. Part of her heart caves in and her soul screams that its not fair, none of this is. Why should she get to see her bondeds’ face twisted into pain, while she felt his soul ripping itself apart, and Red was still overwhelmed with guilt that wasn’t his to carry.

She can carry Sans and Red’s pain, but did she really need to manage Error’s too? Couldn’t she just get one break? Just one time?

She shoves that thought down ruthlessly, its useless and completely unhelpful here as Error seizes painfully on the ground. He froths at the mouth, choking on bluish foam as his body locks and his screaming becomes a gurgling cry of agony.

As Lilith drops to her knees, memories overlap of Red dying in her arms as he seized from the lack of magic and her soul cramps. Both wear Sans’s face, and they’re hurting, they’re all hurting.

_And she’s helpless, always helpless. She can’t, she can’t, she can…_

_She can._

_She fucking can._

Lilith shoves the memories down with herself doubt and every feeling that wouldn’t serve her here. Tired or not, exhausted and worn down, Error needs help, needs someone, and she’s the only one here who can help him. She lets go of their history for now, forgets what he did to her as she grips his shoulder and the side of his pants and hauls him over so he’s laying on his side. She doesn’t know if he’s going to vomit, caused from whatever this was, and didn’t need him choking on his own magic.

His head lulls towards her knee just as Sans’s side of the bond lights up in anger and pain, and for a moment, she almost looses control of her own vice. It rattles in its cage, calling to Sans’s vice and Lilith shoves that down with just as much brutal efficiency as her feelings.

Gritting her teeth, Lilith knows she needs to manage one emergency at a time and firmly shuts Sans completely out. She feels him screaming through their shared bond and her heart breaks with grief before she firmly shuts him out.

The silence is loud in her head, and it’s already weird being alone. She misses Sans, terribly, and it makes her heart sick and her soul ache, she misses him so much.

Yet, there’s a task at hand, things needing done and Error needed her help. Laying a steady hand on his shoulder, she lays the other one along his skull, steadying him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. She searches her memories for what the hell this was, why this happened, and can only come up with some half assed joke from Ripper about Error not liking being touched.

Or something.

She takes a breath, half turns to her sister’s horrified face and only then does Lilith soften, “This isn’t your fault Frisk.” She’s quick to reassure, hating the tears that have gathered in her sister’s eyes, “But I need you to go with Toriel. Error needs help.”

Her sister glances between Error, still seizing on the ground, making pained, horrible noises and her steadfast sister.

Lilith swallows, “Now Frisk.” she softens when Frisk cringes back with hurt and pain, “Please kiddo. I need you to go with Toriel. I will call you later tonight.”

Frisk blinks at her, eyes welling with tears, but she nods, understanding far too much for someone so young. She’s seen too much, knows even more, and when she turns, a half, broken sob shutters out of Frisk. It breaks a piece of Lilith that was still solid, but she doesn’t reach out for Frisk, not when Error was making pained little noises as he seized.

She bolts for Hope and Mercy, pulling them and their equally horrified expressions back to the car, leaving Lilith alone to be caretaker and guardian of the reluctant deity of destruction.

Lilith eases an arm under his knees and another around his shoulders, holding him as gently as she would Sans, but tightly as she stands. Taking a breath to steady herself, she pulls his stiff body close to her own, determined to protect him even as she mutters, “Where the fuck is your boy friend?” she asks him, but Error can’t reply.

His eye lights are still rolled up into his skull and he still trembles with a horrifying noise that gurgled from between his clamped teeth. Lilith’s soul clenches when it’s _Sans’s_ face that stares back up at her in pain, and part of her pulses with the need to help him. If she can’t help her mate, she can at least help Error. As if that would right some cosmic wrong, and reset the balance of bullshit.

Lilith sighs deeply, “Fuck.” Her monotone voice groans, “Why does this keep happening to me?” she wonders to no one and doesn’t really mean the question. She knows that Fate, if she were inclined to believe in such things, threw this shit at her because she could take it.

She could take it, so others wouldn’t have to. She could take it, so she could help others when they couldn’t help themselves.

It makes her feel oddly comforted, to think Fate trusted her with such things, and knows that its Maia’s teachings coming out in her more then her own believe. Still, if she could help Error, if Fate trusted her with one of her deities, she could fucking save Sans.

Steadied, Lilith turns for the compound with Error’s body pulsing weakly in her arms. She wasn’t going to leave Error to suffer, and she’d find a way to keep him safe until he could pull himself together.

Because that’s what Lilith was good at, what she did, and she prided herself on that.

You didn’t always get to choose what you were good at, but Fate behold if Lilith wasn’t good at saving people.

She’d fucking save Sans too.

-

It's dark wherever he is when he comes too, and Error knows he had an _episode_ by the way his head throbs, a sharp, vicious pain in behind his sockets. His mouth is dry, and it's hard to swallow. His head throbs in pain, like a pulse through him, and everything from his toes to his teeth hurt.

His body was exhausted after a forced shutdown, it always is, and the child running into him unexpectedly had been enough to shove him into one. He hadn’t expected to be touched, and when she had, when she had used her dirty, grubby little hands to steady herself, touched his hand, it had been enough to trigger an episode.

He’s sore and his head hurts, and he would plunder _worlds_ to be in Reaper’s lap, curled into his mate’s firm body with his cool arms wrapped around him, while Reaper hummed softly. Immune to the death touch, Error could enjoy the pleasant sensation of Reaper around him, the only person who’s touch he could stand. The only one who had taken the _time_ to work with Error to move past his phobia, the only one who ever cared when he crashed. The only one who stuck around to help him, when he _malfunctioned._

_~~Because that was the crux of it wasn’t it? He was no more an abomination as the mages who lived here. He wasn’t supposed to exist, he’s the malfunction, the glitch, the freak, the…~~ _ ~~~~

Despite the comfort of the dark, heavy, and warm pressure that reminds him of the void wrapped around his body, Error feels the muffled touch of an arm around him. A touch but not a touch, like it was muffled through the thing that’s been wrapped tightly around him, and he was adjusted.

He forces his sockets open, feels his eye lights, mismatched and miscoloured, ignite and the blissful darkness that greets him helps ease the ache in his skull after such a hard crash. His mouth is muffled by something, but its not constricting, more like it was hiding him, and he lets his sockets sink shut again, taking a moment to enjoy the darkness and warmth.

Whatever, _whoever_ , is holding him, shifts around him again, resettling him on a lap and pulled tightly to a firm, muscular body. The almost touch was muffled enough to not send him barrelling down into another crash, he’s wrapped up and warm, and its enough to help pull him out of the inky darkness of a forced shut down.

He forces his sockets open again, and his skull throbs like someone set off a bomb in his head. It’s sort of comparable, he thinks. A bomb, at least, would have done the kind thing and offered a quick death and wouldn’t have left him here to linger in pain.

He shifts in his cocoon, and the body around him stills, what he thinks are arms tighten around him before they loosen. A soft, extraordinarily monotone voice that could rival Crow’s asks, “Are you awake?”

Its familiar, although if you had asked him where he knew it from, Error wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint it. He nods sluggishly as exhaustion swells through him, and he could drift off to have some real sleep. A real rest, safe with the knowledge that this was Nightmare’s territory and surely even the mages wouldn’t act against him.

Who ever is holding him is taller then he is, and with a heavy sigh, he’s lifted from a lap and carefully tucked against what must be the arm of the couch. His saviour pulls away from him the moment he’s settled, thankfully drawing away from him and pulling their hands away.

Error is oddly touched. It’s a sweet, _kind_ , gesture, that surely isn’t afforded to someone like him.

Still, it would be polite to thank whoever’s pulled him from the driveway after the kid touched him, and Reaper would want him to say thank you. That more than anything motivates Error to struggle with whatever has been wrapped around his body.

Its loose around him, not hampering his breathing in any way, but he’s been burritoed into it tight enough that it’s a struggle to get loose. Yet he manages to wriggle his way out of it, peeling back what turned out to be a warm blanket away from his face and upper body with out any help from his saviour, and he freezes.

It’s the mage, the frighteningly calm one who’s soul bonded mate was slowly succumbing to madness upstairs. A growing, violent madness that she could feel every terrifying moment of. The one who’s soul he stole and forced her to attack her friends and family. The last person in this realm who would want to help him.

_Lilith_.

Error feels fear prickle up the back of his neck and ice coats his throat as she stares calmly back at him. He swallows, takes comfort that she didn’t take the chance to murder him when she had it, but having her, the one of two who found a way out of his cables by _lighting themselves on fire_ , stares calmly back at him.

Instinctually, like there is some part of him that remembers what it was like to be prey, has him scrunching down and away from a much more deadly predator, and cringing down and away from her. He presses into the side of the arm of the couch, and he waits for the anger that never comes.

Instead, the mage heaves a long, tired sigh, like she’s seen this bullshit before, and she was not amused. She gives him a cold, flat stare, unwavering and so unemotional that Error would be forgiven to think she didn’t have any. That her mate wasn’t succumbing to insanity only a few floors above them, and when she speaks, she thankfully keeps her voice low and soft, and slow so he can keep up.

“I’m not happy about this either.” She tells him, “But there’s no one else around, I’m the only one you got.”

Error blinks at her, stunned that she was talking to him, his eye lights darting around the room to take as much of it in as he could in case she went violent. He’d seen it in her, when he had his strings wrapped around her soul, the level of her fury, the fury that Sans was currently feeding from right now. He’d seen what depths she could sink to for the sake of what was right, the cruelty she could be capable of, if pushed.

Error was in no position to temp the mage into a fight, and instead prepares to go on the defensive. They’re in a small, quiet room with big windows with the currents drawn closed. There’s a television mounted to the wall, couches set up for preferred viewing necessities, and it takes him a moment to realize he’s in a living room.

A memory floated by, of a time when he had a living room. With a brother and a television and a joke book hidden within astral physics book, and was happy. The memory is there and gone, no different then the tide going out and the almost feeling of home is gone, leaving Error feeling cold and empty.

Lilith is unmoving in the dark room she’s brought him too, still watching him with dull, crimson eyes, her mouth pulling down into a frown when she sees him cringe, “Are you okay?”

Error nods but says nothing, doesn’t trust his voice right now, not after a crash that bad, and stares back at her with the same distrust. Lilith sighs deeply again, and moving slowly, she pulls her legs up to tuck under her and telegraphed _all_ of her movements, so he doesn’t panic, and pulled a bottle of water from her inventory.

Carefully, like _he_ might bite, she crosses from her side of the couch to lay the bottle as a peace offering between them. Watching her carefully, Lilith pulls her hands away, back to her side of the couch, which feels both too far and not far enough.

He waits until she’s back over to her side of the couch before he reaches for the water, cracking the seal to take a deep, refreshing drink, “ThAnK YoU.” He muttered quietly.

She nodded, still cold and suspicious, “What was that?” her head tilts, and a weird softness thaws her eyes, and it makes Error frown.

“HaPhEpHoBiA.” He blurts when she asks the question, anything to fill the awkwardness between them. He flushes and looks down after admitting such a weakness, “iT’s a PhObIa oF tOuCh.” It was a little more than that, but its enough of an explanation.

Lilith nods, “And the seizure?”

Error flinches. It’s not said unkindly, but she has no reason to be nice to him. Suspicion fills him, “A cRaSh.” He tells her at length, and he debates telling her nothing more. They aren’t friends, barely allies. At best, she was Nightmare’s, and really, there wasn’t anything between them besides an uneasy truce.

Yet, if he doesn’t tell her, Ripper will tell her something, and only Fate knows what that asshole will tell her.

Error sighs, “mY bOdY iS bRoKeN.” He tells her, giving her the too long, didn’t read, “i HaVe cRaSh’S wItH tOo mUcH sTimUlaTiOn. ThE tOuCh.” He shrugged and looked down at the bottle of water bitterly, his weakness laid bare.

“i WaS bRoKeN bY mY wOrLd. He shrugs, not entirely sure why he told her that, and blames it on the crash. He was feeling weak and needy, and he had no one else to latch on to.

There’s a soft look that twists her expression, like she almost cares, before her face smooths back out to the cool indifference that Error knew her for. She opens her mouth to say something, her eyes dulling back to dark brown when Sans’s shrieks in pain again, a scream filled with grief and agony, and it makes them both flinch.

The hardness comes back to her expression as she looked upwards to the ceiling, “Yeah. Doesn’t it always?” he’s surprised by the bitterness in her voice, surprised she could emote such venom, but when she looks back to him, the anger is gone and the cool neutral is back, “Error,” he flinches at his name being said by her, “Are you actually okay?”

He stares at her, blinks with a frown, “WhY aRe YoU bEiNg sO nIcE tO mE?”

Lilith blinks back at him, and she suddenly looks so terribly sad, “You’re not the first Sans to ask me that.” She tells him softly, before she looks down with a sigh, “Besides, you wear the face of my mate. What was I going to do, let you suffer?”

Error thinks about it, glancing away before he looks to her with a shrug, “YeS?”

Lilith snorts, and the corner of her mouth lifts in an almost grin, “What do I gain from being cruel to you Error?” Error gets the impression she’s said this before, and this isn’t the first time she’s been in this situation.

“i HuRt yOu.” He points out, as if she would forget.

Lilith shrugs, “You wouldn’t be the first. Trying to kill me is like a right of passage at this point.”

Error blinks at her, doesn’t get the joke or even if there was one there. He doesn’t know if she’s being serious or not.

He didn’t _get_ her, this weird fucking not-enemy. She should be mean and cruel after what he did, everyone always was! It was what he deserved, nothing more then disgust! He was a malfunction, a glitching, nothing but…

He takes a breath and steps back from the anger that is gathering in his chest, peels back the layers of hurt like Reaper taught him to do, and remind himself that was all untrue. He wasn’t any of those things, and he shouldn’t say them about himself.

“i’M sOrRy.” He tells her quietly, his words rushed and blending together, “FoR tHe WhOlE FiGhT.”

She looks exhausted, like one more thing might just make her break, and he doesn’t like this weird fragility from her, “Thanks.” She mutters, looking fatigued, “I am too.” She pauses, before she clarifies, “For the uh. Fire.”

Error nods and pulls at his fingers, before he pulls something out from his inventory, and shoves it at her roughly as her eyes widen in surprise, “NiGhTmArE SaId I bRoKe yOuR fAvoRiAtE mUg.” He told her with a shrug, like it didn’t mean a damn thing.

_~~It means a lot.~~ _

Lilith’s eyes go wide at the sight of a glossy black mug with bold white letters declaring _Meh!_

She takes the mug from him carefully, mindful to not touch his fingers and set off another crash as she draws the mug to her chest like its precious, “Thank you Error.” She tells him with such emotion in her voice that it makes him bashful.

He looks down as his face burns with yellow magic, and he can’t remember a time someone thanked him so honestly and actually meant it, “iT’s NotHiNg.” He shrugs again, still uncomfortable with such kindness.

Lilith blinks at him, and for the first time since Sans succumbed to his vice, Lilith smiled. It’s a slow curl at her mouth, crooked but genuinely pleased, and Error doesn’t think he’s ever seen her without cold indifference, “It’s not nothing.” She tells him, “It means we’re friends now.”

Error flinches, lifting his head so quickly it spun a little, “wHaT! ThAt’S nOt hOw tHaT woRks!”

Yet, the hurt has melted from Lilith a little, the cold thawed when she grins at him, “Is so.” She tells him with such confidence that it makes him frown, “We’re friends now.”

“WhAt, nO!” his voice spits a little more static in the rush of weird, soft feelings.

_~~He doesn’t really remember what it’s like to have friends anymore. Not really.~~ _

_~~Was Nightmare his friend? Was Lilith? Was this how it worked?~~ _

Lilith grinned, something real and kind, and Error wonders if this is what the Crew get to see from her. Was this why they stuck around, this kindness the reason? This friendship?

“Yup.” She told him, as if the argument was done, and she lifts the mug up between them, “The pact has been sealed. We’re friends now.”

Error rolls his eyes, realizing that she’s teasing him. It’s light and not cruelly done like Ink sometimes liked to do to him. This is playful, a moment of reprieve from the horror around them, something that…

Friends did.

Error relaxes into the couch beside her, and an old, familiar feeling bubbles up. He remembers this, a little, a distant memory of having friends. He opens his mouth to sass back, when above them there is another screech of agony and grief, and reality crashes back down around them.

The softness is gone from Lilith’s face as the cry of heartbreak echoes hollowly around the compound, and the ice is back. Error winces at the sound, his skull throbbing sharply behind his sockets, and his broken soul aches.

For all the horror he’s seen, the death and destruction he’s caused, this was the worse. This was just…heartbreaking.

He watches as Lilith looks down the mug in her hands, the impassive ice is back, and Error knows there’s nothing he can do to make it better. Nothing to ease this. There is nothing any of them can do to make this even a little better.

But, if they’re friends now, he needs to try.

Right?

Shifting over in his swaddle of blankets, and really, how fucking smart had that been? To touch him without touching him, and he works himself up for what he’s about to do. He lays a cool hand over her shoulder, light and barely there, and Error lets out a long, slow breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He’s touching her, soft and smooth, lightly enough to not send him barrelling down into another crash. She barely moves, tilting her head to look at his black hand and red fingers like he meant a damn, and offered a watery smile.

She wipes an eye with the back of her hand, not bothering to be discreet after five days of feeling Sans tare himself apart and drown in fury he couldn’t cope with.

Error doesn’t say anything about it, offers the only comfort he could even if it was a supremely light hold to her shoulder, and nothing more.

“Thanks Error.” Her voice is rough with pain that a part of Error understands, even if he doesn’t remember it. Doesn’t want to remember either. She gives him a watery, rough laugh, “So uh. Anyone fuck with you because of your crashes?”

Error blinks at her, frowns and doesn’t understand what she’s getting at but can see the dodge from a mile away, “SoMeTiMe’s.” he shrugs, keeps his hand where it is, something to anchor her in case she went down the same route as Sans, “SoMeTiMes InK tHiNkS ItS FunNy.”

Lilith nods, like she expected as much, “Well, next time it happens. You tell me, and I’ll punch him right in the fucking face.”

Error blinks at her, believes the conviction in her voice and snorts. He’s not surprised, not really, not with a battle mage declaring herself as his friend, and that’s something he can almost remember. He can almost remember loyalty and friendship. He remembers protection, and that seemed to be double from a battle mage.

He doesn’t doubt that she would, in fact, punch Ink in the face if she thought he was bullying Error.

It makes him smile a little, feel something he didn’t think his broken soul could feel.

He squeezes her shoulder a little, and Lilith relaxed a bit.

After all, what were friends for?

-

Tearing open a portal into time and space, Reaper steps carefully into the mage’s world and pulls his hands tight to his body as to not accidently touch. He knows Error is here, he had texted him hours ago while Reaper dealt with things in the multiverse and discreetly looked for a way to deal with Chara.

He hadn’t heard anything since, causing Reaper to worry. Error usually send him silly jifs and memes to pass the time, some part of Sans that was still there clinging stubbornly to his soul. Reaper adored it, adored him, and thought it was very sweet.

It made the days go a little easier.

The mage’s compound is oddly quiet, even later into the evening, usually someone was doing something, filling the building with life, and Reaper chalks the quiet up to Sans and his current state. Everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells, waiting for either he to snap or the mage. It was a race to see who goes down the road of madness first, although Sans was trying his hardest to beat Lilith there.

The compound feels darker, grim somehow, in the same way a funeral home is. Its like someone is dying, and they all know who it is. Lilith’s body maybe able to hold out from the stress of it all, but Sans’s won’t.

Taking a breath, Reaper carefully steps through the quiet compound, frowning when he sees Nightmare leaning against the door jam to one of the living rooms. He seems oddly at ease, even his tentacles are laying along the floor lazily, the first time Reaper has seen him like this since the whole thing with Sans started, and he frowns.

His soundless steps bring him to Nightmare, his hands carefully tucked at his lower back as to not accidently touch, to peer into the living room. He stills at first, panic seizing his soul at what he sees just beyond the couch, before he eases. It wouldn’t have come to pass, if Error wasn’t on board with it.

Still, Reaper thinks he can be forgiven for being tense near humans, even one he helped, after what happened to Error _before._

He glances to Nightmare, his face impassive as he watches the living room, arms crossed as he leaned heavily into the door frame, jamming his shoulder into the wood. There’s something so relaxed, so _calm_ about him, that Reaper can’t help but be calmed and soothed as well.

Reaper clears his throat, Nightmare’s skull tilts slightly towards him, but not taking his socket from the living room. No doubt as tense as Reaper was to have Error so close to the mage when she was suffering, “What happened here?” Reaper asks mildly, tilting his head to indicate the room.

Nightmare lifts his shoulder in a lazy shrug, “Nap time.” His voice is cold and low. Low enough to not wake anyone in the living room.

Reaper blinks at him and nods, looking back into the room where Error sleeps on a couch.

He’s leaned into Lilith, his cheek pressed into her bare shoulder to smoosh against her. He’s drooling, light yellow, down the front of her shoulder and down her chest, halfway curled out of a blanket to lean into the mage.

Lilith is asleep as well, leaning into Edge’s chest, her own cheek smooshed against his hard ribs as he sprawled out at the corner of the couch. His skull angled downwards, his sharp cheek pressed into the top of her head, an arm curled under his skull as he snored softly into her hair.

On a couch opposite to them, Sin was laying stretched out, his feet propped up on the arm while his skull was pillowed under his arm. Sloan is sprawled out long against his body at the edge of the couch, her fingers gripping onto his grey t-shirt in her sleep.

Sin’s other arm curled around her shoulders to keep her in place, even in sleep. Ripper is pressed into Sin’s other side, his spine in a brace, pressed into the couch.

They’re all breathing slow and deep, peaceful in sleep following the days of horror, and its only really just begun.

Error, at least, seems peaceful.

Reaper takes a breath, “So, how’s Ripper?” he asked politely, drawing that piercing azure eye light.

Nightmare stares hard at him, searching out any untruth from Reaper before he frowns when he finds none, “Fine.” He says at length, “Sans set him back several steps in his healing, Lola set him up in a brace to keep his spine straight.” He glances to his second in command, and worry etches into his expression.

Curious.

It softens when he looks to Sin and Sloan, “My mates have been taking care of him mostly. Making sure he takes it easy and rests. He’s fond of Lilith, they’re friends.” Reaper raises a brow, didn’t think Reaper could have friends, “He’s concerned, so he needed a babysitter to make sure he behaves, and Lilith can’t do it right now.”

Reaper nods, and wasn’t that the truth. He glances to Lilith, asleep on Edge, a peaceful pillow for his own mate, “How’s Lilith?”

Any softness is gone, replaced with bitter anger, “Not well.” Nightmare admits, glancing to the mage, and it looks like he’s bitten into something sour, “Sans is going to die.” Nightmare says blandly, and Reaper flinches, “But Lilith won’t let that happen. She’ll force a soul merge before that and gain control of his vice.”

Reaper winces at that, “She’ll have to go _deep_.” He offers weakly, looking on with sympathy.

Nodding, Nightmare’s face is impassive, “She will. Deeper even then when she gave Red soul magic.” He looks to Reaper, expression grim and hinting at anger, “She will not let him die Reaper. She’ll hate herself, but Sans will live.”

Reaper winces, because the question was at what cost? If Sans reacted poorly…

There was a reason she hadn’t done it yet.

Reaper frowns, “It’s good that she’s asleep.” He said at last, glancing to his own mate, watching over and guarding, “She’s had a hard few days.”

“Its going to get harder.” Nightmare snaps back, but Reaper takes no offence.

He nods along placidly, looking back to Error’s peaceful face, “Yes.” He agrees, “It will get much harder yet.” He glances to Nightmare, “She’s lucky to have you here.” Nightmare snorts, but Reaper grins softly, “It means they have a chance.” Nightmare gives him a confused look, and Reaper grins, “If you can feel, she can save her bonded. Anything can happen.”

Nightmare snorts and returns to watching his mates, Sloan and Sin are soft in their sleep, chests moving slowly, “This isn’t a fairy tale.” He spits bitterly.

Reaper grins, “And yet, she made peace with Error, with no reason to do it. You have not one, but two loving mates, who adore you, and Edge is clearly in love if he’s willing to sleep like he is.” The azure eye light glances to the fell brother, peaceful in sleep, soft against Lilith.

“Nightmare, if this isn’t a fairy tale, then what is it?” Reaper asks softly, his mouth hiking up into a gentle smile.

As if Fate where reminding them of her presence, magic upstairs in a decimated room swirls. Heavy with fury and bitter resentment, choking the owner of said magic with grief. Reaper’s smile falls as he and Nightmare look up at the ceiling with tense, bitter expressions.

Red is silent on the stairs, feels the anger from Sans and the bitter grief from Lilith, and thinks this is a horror show. He takes a drag on his cigarette and listens in to Nightmare’s and Reaper’s hushed discussion, and knows they’re right.

Sans won’t make it another week, and Lilith will hate herself for what comes next.

Taking a deep inhale of smoke, he relishes in the burn of the nicotine and lets it out from between sharp fangs. Lilith shouldn’t bare such hate and regret, that wasn’t fair.

Guilt swamps his soul, and he knows he should have been there for her before now, but maybe he could ease the pain now.

After all, he was Fell, he could take it. Take the pain so she and Sans wouldn’t have to. He could be hated, could bare it for them. He was the dirty fucking Fell monster after all, nothing really, easily replaceable.

Red could take it, so they wouldn’t have to.

He’s got enough bad ideas and affection for them both to be stupid enough to even attempt it. 

He could bear it, take the weight of their pain for them, an apology of sorts.

And if they hated him afterwards, well…

That was the price he was willing to pay to save their lives.


	45. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red deploys his plan to help save Sans. 
> 
> It's not what the others would have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Another Saturday another update! Please read the warnings here and take care of yourselfs :) 
> 
> I want to thank Lissy once again for the help with the idea of this part of the arc, it's been a lot of fun and I think you all will enjoy the next two chapters ^^ 
> 
> Thank you to all who have stuck with the story so far, it's been a blast writing it so far! I am almost done the next chapter, but there maybe a delay in the chapter after that if its not completed. My twitter and discord will have updates if there is going t be a delay in any of the coming chapters :) 
> 
> Thank you! 
> 
> WARNING: Lemon chapter, sex as a coping mechanism, rough sex, possible dub-con as Sans is not exactly in his right state of mind but does agree to everything. Mild discussion of torture. Underfell was a terrible place.

Leaning against the door of his room, Red listens carefully to the noises in the hallway and forces his soul to settle. Anticipation and concern fill him, and worry twists his nonexistent guts, but he shoves it away. He’s just got to focus on the plan at hand.

It’s going to be fine.

He lets out a long, hot breath through his teeth, and settles against the door a little more. He licks at a tooth and picks at his collar, a self soothing habit he never broke, one he isn’t planning on breaking now. Shifting again, Red’s thick leather coat, almost too hot for the summer, is settled snuggly around his body. He’s hot, but he wants the extra protection for what he’s about to do.

He thought about leaving it behind, as the only thing that has sentimental value at all, but at least its thick and will offer some protection to the elements. Besides, if it gets wrecked, Red is certain if he asked, Lola or Edge would sew it up for him.

Unless they hated his guts too, and if that was the case, Red’ll have to do it himself.

There’s another scream of anger from down the hallway that makes Red flinch a little and he grits his teeth. Shifting at the door, he tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the twisting of his soul and the swell of grief that tries to swallow him whole, and focuses back in on his plan.

His black sneakers are tied up and knotted twice, tight on his feet so they won’t slow him down. His shorts are loose for easy movement and to be torn away, and his white t-shirt is one of a dozen Lilith had bought him. Its just a soft t-shirt, and he doesn’t particularly care if it’s torn from his body.

With any luck, he’ll be able to slip his jacket off once he’s allowed Sans to catch him, and if he doesn’t, well, it’s just one more cost he’s willing to pay.

He thinks about leaving his collar behind, to ensure it isn’t ruined, but the thought of taking it off makes Red feel anxious and bare. Like he’s leaving some part of himself behind, leaving himself unprotected.

It stays neatly on his throat.

Sans shrieks again, sending a sharp spike of pain through his skull that makes Red wince, making his left socket throb. He rubs at his socket, his fingers catching at the light scar that runs through it, a faded scar that nearly touches his gold tooth.

Asgore had given it to him, when he had given his first inaccurate judgement just to fuck with him, and sure, his scar wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Edge’s were, but it still hurt. The Royal healer had done a damn good job at closing the wound, and the scar was barely noticeable most of the time, but his vision in that socket hadn’t really come back one hundred precent.

It’s why everyone thought he was glaring at them all the time. He wasn’t, he was squinting to see a little better, and just never corrected anyone when they made the assumption.

The gold tooth was a gift from Asgore as well. When the strike that had cracked his socket hadn’t been enough to get Red under control, he had yanked the tooth out with pliers. As if that would have brought Red to heel in any capacity.

It hadn’t, nor had any of the other torture sessions he’d endured with Asgore, and it had only been when Asgore turned his sights on Edge had Red began to obey.

Everyone had a weakness, and Asgore had found his.

Red pushes the thought away, steadies himself and tries to focus on the sounds in the hallway. He can’t hear it very well, not with the noise from inside Lilith and Sans’s room, the thick, swirling magic sounds like a bad rainstorm and it makes things hard to hear.

Yet, even muffled, Red can hear Lilith’s monotone voice as she speaks to Undyne, and it sooths something in his soul to hear her. She, at least, was okay, she was still alive, and if he focused on nothing but her voice, he doesn’t see her covered in her own blood.

It doesn’t really stop the guilt from swallowing his feelings, and he knows, _knows_ , she’s going to hate him after this. She’ll hate him for what he’s about to do, and he’s accepted the fact that she will, everything comes with a price, and her distain was what he was willing to pay.

He takes his comfort where he can, even if it’s distorted like this.

Glancing to the clock, it reads eleven fifty-six, and he feels a spike of eagerness bolt through him. He takes a breath to calm himself, and knows that its almost show time.

Lilith, if left to her own devices, would have sat outside their room all day, everyday, and would not have ate or slept. She would have burned herself to the ground trying to get through to Sans, and thankfully, Felix wasn’t having any of it.

Captain Felix was back in full force, and even Lilith didn’t defy his schedule that included eating and sleeping breaks for her. Someone from the Den or the Crew where always with her to offer what support they could, and Edge made sure she slept.

Red’s relieved that she has some comfort in all this and is actually happy that she had been sleeping in Edge’s bed with him. Even if neither of them _needed_ a full eight hours, Edge made sure she got it, and Red’s only disappointment was he didn’t get to witness the conversation of his horribly awkward brother inviting Lilith to his bed.

Right now, Red wasn’t under the delusion that she didn’t need it. She did, desperately, especially in light of how Sans’s vice was eating away at her soul too. She wasn’t _unaffected_ by all this.

It also meant, they followed Felix’s schedule _carefully_ , and like clockwork, when it was twelve o’clock on the dot, Glass had come up stairs to tell her to come down for lunch. Its too easy, too predictable, and part of Red scolds his brother for allowing such consistency.

Still, Red grins when he hears their voices in the hall, hears Lilith and Undyne getting up and their footsteps getting quieter as they head downstairs.

With Sans’s door unguarded, the game was on.

Pushing himself to his feet, Red takes a minute to take a breath and stretches out his shoulders. It’s going to be a long afternoon, and he needs to be ready. He sets his expression into a slick, amused grin, a mask to hide his utter dread and fear, and steps through a short cut.

He reappears in Lilith and Sans’s room, and his grin lessens at the state of it. It’s been destroyed, _everything_ is wrecked _._ Their bed is in pieces, the blankets shredded, the walk in torn apart and shredded clothing scatters the floor like snow.

The walls are cracked and bare from lashing magic, and it looks like a sizable chunk of plaster has fallen from the celling from the storm that’s been raging in here for days.

In the centre of it all, Sans is on his knees, his forehead pressed into the ruined hardwood floor and his hand is clamped painfully at his skull. He’s trembling so hard his bones rattle, his ribs heave with every painful breath, and his right arm is curled tightly against his chest. He’s shoved his wrist into his mouth to silence the pained noises that have been coming out of him, and a fine sheen of magic coats him like he’s been sweating for days.

Even the air is musty and thick with stale magic, and it reminds Red of the barracks back in the Capital, after Asgore had found and taken him as his Judge. The tinge of fear and madness is here too, and the bad memories made Red’s soul churn with unease. 

It almost sends him fleeing just to get away from the memories that are clawing at his throat, the fear almost makes him bend and it breaks Red’s god damned heart to see him like this. It _hurts_ to hear the little distressed whimpers that make their way passed the residual limb that Sans is trying to choke himself on. It almost breaks Red, right then and there, and he feels heart sick to see Sans like this. To see him in such pain and to know that there was nothing anyone could do for him, that this is a battle he has to fight on his own.

Except, Red is here, and he’s about to do something, and that helps steel his resolve.

His slick grin is forced back into place, but its ridged and tight, nearly rictus with how fucking fake it was, but it’ll due.

“Fuck Sansy.” He suddenly says, the words rolling off his tongue easily, “Ya really did a fucking number on your room.”

The effect is instant in Sans.

It’s like wires have been pulled through him, pulling his body taunt, and Sans coils impossibly tighter into himself as he goes utterly still. He even stops breathing, chokes on his own wrist, and even the magic around them seems to stall. His body is dirty, looking so small and the magic at his joints doesn’t seem to glow as warmly, almost watery.

He pulls his wrist from his mouth, the limb soaking with drool that it sticks to his teeth, and when he speaks, Sans sounds horse from days of screaming and choking on his wrist, “Get out Red.” 

Red’s grin hikes up a little higher, its still tense and fake, but he doesn’t let it fall as he toes at a piece of debris that may have been part of their bed, “Nah. Don’t think I will sweetheart.” His words are dripping with sarcasm, “I think your being a little bitch about this whole thing, and the fact that you tried to guilt me over the fact that I was upsetting Lilith, is now hil~ _arious._ ”

Sans says nothing, but his body twists so he can glare at Red from the floor. His sockets are empty of light, dark as the void itself, and his expression is a twisted version of itself. Devoid of life and happiness, and sheer anger reflects back to him.

Sans looks like shit, the dark, purple smudges under his sockets tell a story of sleepless nights and nightmares. His bones are pale from malnourishment, a result of not eating for days, and it makes something in Red twist with agony. Something inside _hurts_ to think how much Sans is hurting.

He remembers what its like to starve, that gnawing pain that never goes away no matter how many times you tell yourself it doesn’t hurt.

“I’m not kidding Red.” Sans hissed, his fury starting to grow, and the trembling makes a come back, “I’m going to hurt you.” He warns, shuddering on the floor.

It makes Red snort as he takes a slow spin around the room, keeping Sans in his sight at all times, because despite his bravado, Sans was right, “You? Hurt me? I doubt it Centre Fold.” His grin goes slick, “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got some moves, but _I’m_ the battle-ready model. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Sans blinks at him, before his expression darkens with fury, “Red, I’m serious.”

“So am I Sans.” He said firmly, dangerously, and not backing down, “You’re being an ass, and you need to calm the fuck down.” Sans grit his teeth at his words, “And let Lilith help you.”

Sans hissed at him, his shoulders hunching up around his skull, “Red get out.”

With a bright, hot grin, Red stops by their door, and leans against it with his hand on the handle, “Why don’t you stop being a little bitch and come make me.”

Anger rolls through Sans hard, and Red can see the switch being flipped as his sockets narrow, “What did you say?”

Leaning back against the door, Red grins, and his grip on the handle tightens, “I said, come make me.” Red pauses, and tilts his head, “And you’re a little bitch.”

Sans blinks at him, like he can’t quite believe the words that just came out of Red’s mouth, and his vice _snaps_. Red grins wide when Sans shrieks with uncontrolled fury and launches himself at Red.

Red’s ready for it, had been hoping for it and Sans played right into his hand far quicker than he’d hoped. He twisted the door handle as Sans scrambles to his feet with an angry yell and takes a step backwards with a laugh. He slips through the door, cackling as he does, serving only to make Sans angrier.

Red turns and runs, his sneakers slapping hard into the steps that he takes two at a time with a deep laugh and doesn’t dare look back. Sans is at his heels with a scream, the bones of his feet slapping painfully into the wood and Red wishes he could have gotten shoes on him.

Well, he can’t win them all.

He’s down the steps with a merry chuckle, Sans right behind him, and he uses the banister to bank harder around the steps to dash down the hall. Sans, filled with rage that he can’t control, trips, slamming shoulder first into the front door.

Red laughs harder as he runs, his sneakers squeaking into the linoleum as he yells behind him, “Can’t chase worth shit Sansy.”

Sans screams behind him, sockets blank as his vice rides him hard, taring his soul into pieces.

Red laughs harder even when his soul burns at the sound Sans makes, and dashes through the compound. His hearing drowns out as the others start yelling, asking what the hell was going on, but Red ignores their frantic cries and focuses on running. Sans is screaming with blind anger behind him, and Red runs harder, leading him through the compound to the kitchen.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t dare here, and only reason he doesn’t go through the front door, is so Lilith won’t worry. She won’t worry, quite as much, about Sans if she knows he’s with him.

If she worries about Red, that’s another matter, and a non-issue.

Red, doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t look at her as he bursts into the dining room, vaults over the table, and runs for the kitchen the moment his feet hit the floor. He laughs again, higher, and more vicious this time only to rile Sans up further, when Sans ran _into_ the table rather then going over it.

His anger is making him disoriented and wobbly, and the impact makes Lola yelp as she startled, and there’s commotion as those at the table shout. He hears Lilith call for Sans as he tares around the table after Red, and he feels bad for making her worry.

Yet, this is about Sans, and Red focuses on running as hot magic surges through his bones, and it burns as if he had lungs.

Red is out the back door in a flash, Sans at his heels as they charge from the compound, and Lilith is behind him. Good, the whole point of going out the back door was so she knew where Sans was, and he didn’t worry her.

Red can hear Lilith yelling their names, telling them to stop, begging them to stand down, but Red isn’t stopping and neither is Sans. Good, it would make this easier.

Red dashed across the yard, his arms and legs pumping, and he expended energy he didn’t necessarily have to burn as he heads for the forest. He’s panting hard, and Sans is breathing raggedly from behind him, every breath is painful as they bolt.

Spinning as he stops, Red grins when he sees Sans’s right behind him, his expression twisted into an unnatural rage, and he’s filled with a sick glee that he’s already won. Sans just doesn’t know it yet.

Red stopped too quickly, too suddenly for Sans to stop or attack. He can’t deviate and Red already knows he can’t bank worth a damn and Red spreads his arms wide like he was welcoming a lover home.

Red _smiles_ , knows that this is all coming together nicely as Sans slams into his chest with enough force to knock the air from his body. He doesn’t stumble or fall as Red locks his arms around Sans like a vice, and he hangs onto him for all his worth.

Lilith is behind Sans, her usually cool expression twisted up into fear and panic, and it makes Red nearly feel guilty even as his soul feels heavy. Her crimson eyes are focused on _him_ , like she was utterly terrified that something bad was about to happen to him, but Red isn’t worried. 

His arms go around Sans tighter, and with one, last bright smirk to Lilith, Red shortcuts away. He hears her start to scream his name, yelling for him to come back, but its far too late for that and Red is gone.

Sans snarls as they reappear in the forest, deep into a random clearing, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where Sans could just let himself go and burn through some of that violent magic. Some place where they wouldn’t be interrupted, and Sans could deal with all that anger.

It had taken Red days to find this clearing, far enough away from the compound that even the hounds wouldn’t find them easily. Far enough that if Lilith got any impressions from Sans, it would only be of trees and forest, nothing special to lead her here. No, Sans and Red were all alone, just what Red needed.

Red twists around, throwing Sans away from his body with his movement as hard as he could. He doesn’t wince outwardly as Sans hits the ground, lands rough on his shoulder, but he’s up with a vicious hiss, and his empty sockets glare at Red.

“Fucker.” He hissed angrily, and its so open outside, so bright and Sans is so vulnerable. He’s so angry, angry at Red that he can’t think straight and his mind fogs with resentment.

Red shrugs passively, grinning widely as if this was some game, taking a step back to put a bit of distance between them, “That’s what your mom said last night.” He tells Sans passively, his grin wide and challenging, and when Sans’s doesn’t get it immediately, Red knows the vice is riding him hard, “Get it? Fuck~ _er_.”

Sans screams, overwhelmed and in pain, and the colour from is vision bleeds away as he throws a wall of bones at Red. Short cutting out of the way, Red gives him a slick grin, “Missed me.” He mocked.

Turning towards him, Sans mindlessly threw another wall of bones with a great bellow, sloppy and uncoordinated, and Red isn’t sure how he can keep breathing with all the screaming. Grinning, Red side stepped the attack, “Missed me again.”

After that, Sans sees nothing but threats as his vice spikes hard and the Judge screams in pain at the sheer amount of fury that burns through him. The agony Sans is forced to endure, sees even his ally, his friend, his whatever the fuck Red was to he and Lilith, as a threat.

Its too bright, so bright, and its all too much, and Sans _snaps_. He delves further into his vice, his blood thirsty fury that he no longer has to hold back, and he finally has a target for it.

Red, doesn’t disappoint.

He easily sidesteps every wall of bones, he shortcuts with a laugh at ever blaster that’s fired at him, not bothering to launch his own, and uses his own blue magic to keep Sans’s magic off his soul. Every attack is neatly dodged or deflected, and not once does Sans get close to him.

Not once, does Red stop running his mouth, giving Sans the perfect target to grind his axe.

“What’s wrong _Sansy_ , you seem _angry_.” He viciously mocked, drawing Sans’s anger out like an infection.

Red dodges again, and his words are vindictive and nasty, and maybe he’s not wrong. He is drawing the infection out, one blaster firing at a time, “The fuck kind of attack was that sweetheart? Can’t hit the broad side of a barn?”

His personal favorites are the _yo momma_ jokes, that just seem to aggravate Sans further, drawing out frustrated, angry noises. Each joke, each cheap shot more amusing then the last as it drove more and more of Sans’s anger out of his soul.

“Hey _Sansy_ , what’s the difference between yo momma and a 747? She carries more passengers.” He tells Sans with spiteful glee, laughing at San’s horse yell and Red wonders if he even remembers his parent or if Sans just thinks he should be angry.

“Hey Sans, your momma’s like mustard. She spreads ‘em easy.” Red laughs at his own joke with that one, wiping a tear from his socket as he side steps another wave of bones, laughing harder as Sans’s expression twists in rage.

Is it immature? Sure, absolutely and Red would never deny it, but it did the trick.

With every stupid, immature joke that Red lobbed at Sans with the precision of a sniper, Sans got angrier. The angrier he got, just as Red had hoped, the more magic he hemorrhaged and the more tired he got.

Red, for the last few days had forced himself to sleep, forced himself to ignore the nightmares of Lilith and Sans dying, and forced himself to eat, even when the food tasted like ash in his mouth. Red rebuilt his magic surplus, for this. _~~For Sans.~~_

Sans on the other hand, was already running on fumes, had been for days and the fight, despite all his anger, is surprisingly short lived. He’s sweating and panting, barely on his feet without swaying and finally, _finally_ , the barest hint of eye lights gleams in his sockets.

Even his Check tells Red what he already knows, _Sans is really tired,_ and Red knows that Sans is ripe for the picking.

A slick grin spreads slowly across Red’s mouth with sharp toothed amusement, “Come ‘ere sweetheart,” he mocks, drawing that dwindling ire as he opens his arms wide, inviting Sans in, “Come to Red like a good boy.”

There’s a final spike of aggression and Sans charges, physically charges Red, much to his utter delight. Red wasn’t much for puzzles and traps, that was Edge’s thing, but he’s fucking delighted that Sans walks right into his without a second thought. It makes all of this that much easier.

Sans charges him, slamming into his body as hard as he could, his bones warm to the touch, flushed with anger and the physical effort he had put into trying to kill Red. He’s so warm that Red nearly burns against him.

With a smirk, Red lets himself fall back the moment Sans’s body, hot and panting, slams into his, cushioning their fall. He crumbles easily to the ground, dragging Sans down with him and allowing himself to be pinned beneath Sans, ensuring Sans was firmly on top.

Sans snarls, pinning his wrists down into the warm earth above Red’s skull with his single hand, panting hard as he shakes, “Asshole!” Sans sneers, and there’s still so much heat pouring from his body, and Red grins, feeling victorious.

“Aww good job sweetheart.” He mocked, his voice losing its rough edge and taking on a pleasant rumble of timbre, “You caught me.” His grin goes salacious and he bucks his hips up into Sans. Even through his dwindling anger, Sans jolts at the sudden touch, and finally, he takes a tiny step away from the vice that's wrapped itself around his soul.

There is a flash of something in his nearly dead sockets, and Red feels a flash of victory, that he was _right_. He bucks his hips again, feels the warm magic in Sans’s bones, how his own are growing hot after the adrenaline of a fight, and Red _wants_.

Sans still has him by the wrists, still pinning him tightly as he leaned over him, panting hard. He’s sunk down to one elbow in his exhaustion, his mouth too close to Red’s, barely a breath away, and hot magic starts to pool in Red’s pelvis. He bucks up again, rutting his pelvis into Sans’s hard, his grin slick. Red leans forward just a little, so his sharp teeth brush at Sans’s, “Tell me Sansy, now that you have me, what are ya gonna do ta me?”

Sans blinks down at him, confusion flickers at him through the haze of anger, and Red is grateful to see anything other then irritation, “What?” Sans’s body is already responding to the stimuli as Red rubs his pelvis into Sans’s.

Just a little more, Red knows, and he’s got Sans.

“Well, ya caught me.” Red sighs, putting the lightest amount of pressure on Sans’s hand and could have broken free if he wanted to. Testing to see how far Sans was willing to let him go, and Red trembles under him. Red’s exactly where he wants to be, caught and bound, and he bucks up again, grinning when he feels hot magic in Sans’s shorts.

Sans sputters, nearly insulted, his grip on Red’s wrists tightens but he doesn’t pull away, “I could kill you!” he snaps, still with that feral rage lingering.

Red grins, wide and daring, “Could.” He agrees, making Sans frown as his words ghost against Sans’s teeth, “ _Or_ , wouldn’t you rather fuck me to oblivion?”

Sans freezes again, and more magic gathers heavily in his pelvis, “What?” he says again, a little stupidly, and it makes Red’s grin widen.

“You caught me,” he tells Sans slowly, as if he were a particularly dim-witted child, “now you can fuck me into the forest floor.” Red all but dares and fights the groan in his throat when he feels the sudden heat from Sans’s body, grins at the confusion in his expression. Still, that feral like anger blinks down at him, and Red licks his teeth.

“Or maybe,” he dares, “I could suck your dick. Would you like that Sansy?” he asks, his voice pitched low, and Sans has frozen over him, “Would you? Do you want to choke me on your dick? Hold my head down while you come down my throat?”

“I…” Sans shivers over him, and a little more of his eye lights come back, the magic brightening a little, “What?”

Its awfully hard to be angry when someone’s sucking your dick, after all, and Red can feel the heat suddenly in Sans’s shorts. He can feel how hard Sans is when his cock snaps into place, how he’s filled with desperate need, how Sans _wants_ this too. Red can feel it in him, can feel his vice standing down a little as confusion bubbles, and Sans trembles over him. 

_Good. ~~Lilith can hate Red later for what he’s about to do.~~_

Red pushes himself up slowly, giving Sans the space he needs to rear back as his anger begins to shrink and a weird mixture of confusion and want begin to rise. Sans lets go of his wrists as he pulls away, sockets widening at the words Red has said, the offer he made, so sweetly.

Sans pulls back further, pushing himself up to his knees like he was trying to actively avoid Red’s touch, but needed to be near at the same time. He’s heavy and hard in his shorts, panting hard but he doesn’t get off of Red completely. Sans’s knees press into the soft dirt of the forest floor, kneeling over Red as he trembled in sudden arousal and confused anger, and the calves of Sans’s legs still bracket Red’s thighs.

Sans’s arms are limp by his side, his hand loose as he just stares at Red with unblinking sockets, his mouth slightly agape in shock. Like he can’t quite believe Red’s audacity, that he’s this stupid and reckless, and suicidal for propositioning the monster who just tried to kill him.

Red thinks it’s a fair assessment, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

_~~And Red isn’t going to let Sans die or Lilith to do the unthinkable. Sans needs to be calmed, soothed, and all Red can offer is his body.~~ _

_~~And if this ruins any friendships, so be it, that’s the price he’s willing to pay.~~ _

It’s also incredibly fucking hot, that Sans tried so hard to beat the shit out of him, and the piece in Red that will always be _Fell_ is tickled by the near courting dance Sans displayed. The power and brutality, it turns Red’s crank, and his grin is knife sharp as he stares up at Sans.

_~~He can pretend, for just a little while, that he actually has a chance, and this isn’t just some desperate bid to save Sans’s life. That he isn’t going to be used and rutted into brutally, before the anger came at him.~~ _

_~~He could pretend, for just a little while, that they cared.~~ _

With his hands free, Red reaches to Sans’s hips to tug them towards him a little so he could brush his thumbs along the tops of his iliac crests. Pressing his mouth to the front of Sans’s shorts, nuzzling his hard length with ultra sharp teeth, and Red huffs a little pleased sigh when Sans bucks into him.

Almost sweetly, he looks up from under his brow and grins, “Wadda say Sans?” he nips at the tip of his cock so very lightly through the material of his shorts, and Sans shivers over him. His legs are bracketing Red’s legs and they suddenly squeeze around his thighs and Sans’s breathing goes unsteady.

Red coos softly, “Aww you want me too?” Sans is still staring at him in shock, stunned that Red’s touching him so softly, and his thumbs roll over the polished, ivory bones of Sans’s hips, “I promise, I’m real careful. I won’t hurt’cha.” He runs his tongue over a razor-sharp tooth before he licks a hot strip at the tip of Sans’s over sensitive cock, again through the material of his shorts.

Sans is still frozen over him, his sockets wide like he’s trying to decide if he should panic or give in. Red knows San’s history, what Oliva and Chara did to him, and Sans utters _no_ one time, Red brings him home to Lilith and she can take it from here.

Red hopes he doesn’t though, and he grins when Sans takes a shaky breath, and nods.

Red grins up at him, nuzzling into his hard length again, and almost sweetly says, “Need words Centre Fold.” He tilts his head, crimson eye lights flashing up at him, “You want to choke me on your dick?”

“Yes.” Sans even almost sounds like himself, breathless and suddenly needy in the aftermath of such a great deal of emotions. Overwhelmed in the vacuum of his anger, and he latches onto Red and everything he’s handing over so easily.

Red smirks, its all he needs, and slowly shucks his coat off, letting it pool behind him in a messy pile, “You wanna stop, or I do something you don’t like, tell me to stop and we do. I’ll take ya home ta Lilith.”

Sans nods, a confused mess of conflicting needs and wants, and he trembles over Red. Red chuckles lowly to himself, and its almost too easy, _~~nothing about this has been easy.~~_ His hands go back to Sans’s hips once his jacket is a crumpled mess behind him, rubbing in slow, frustrating circles, “Try again sweetheart. I need words.”

Sans swallows, trembles over him and his voice is nervous rough, “You’ll stop.” He swallows hard, glancing to Red’s mouth, “If I ask you too.”

Red nods, slowly tugging his shorts down a little more, “You believe me?” he asks, his voice a rough timbre.

Sans nods desperately, his hand shaky as he lays it on Red’s shoulder, and Red raises an expectant brow to him. He swallows hard, and knows what Red wants, “Yes.” He gasps, and Red lights up in delight.

“Good boy.” Red praises roughly, and Sans shivers. Interesting, a praise kink could be fun, if he’s ever allowed to touch Sans again.

Red pulls his shorts down slowly so it’s stretch between Sans’s knees, and he shivers when Red carefully grasps him by the base of his pretty blue cock.

“So lovely.” Red’s words ghost warmly over the head of Sans’s cock, making him shiver, “So pretty sweetheart.”

Leaning forward, he licks a wet, hot strip over the slit of Sans cock, and he shivers over Red, fisting his hand into Red’s shirt.

Sour-sweet, like the taste of sour patch kids, fills Red’s mouth, and he grins when he tastes the sweet magic and pre-come as he swirls his tongue around the head, “So good.” He husked, earning another shiver from Sans.

“Do-do you ever shut up?” Sans snarks, earning a grin from Red. That almost sounded like himself again, and as Red covers his very sharp fangs in a layer of magic to cushion them, he takes Sans into his mouth.

Sans gasps, his eye lights flickering as Red suddenly swallows him down. Gripping at his hips, Red holds him tightly, his tongue swirling carefully along the underside of his cock, bobbing his head as he _sucked_. Sans groaned as pleasure filled him and his toes curled, and his vice was slowly settled.

Even the Judge sighed and relaxed all the more as Red drew him down his throat, his skull bobbing back and forth over Sans with practise ease. Red makes little wet noises with each pass up and down over Sans’s dick, humming with pleasure as he tastes Sans for the first time. Sans is helpless but to hang on as he makes weak little noises with each pass of Red’s mouth, each time drawing him down further into Red’s throat. Sans’s right arm curls weakly around Red’s shoulders to press into him as Sans bowed over Red’s skull.

On his knees and his spine curled, Sans makes helpless, breathless little noises with Red’s movements. Sans whimpers and trembles over him, as Red takes him into his wet, hot mouth, his plush tongue curling around the under side of his shaft.

Sans’s left arm curled up so he could grip at Red’s skull as he swallowed Sans down, gripping onto his skull hard even as his fingers trembled. Slow, inch by inch, tightening his throat around Sans’s thick length, and Sans trembles around him. He curses softly, making a soft, wet noise as Red’s nasal structure brushes Sans’s pubic symphysis, and _pleasure_ for the first time in days crawls up Sans’s spine.

It feels good, so good, to have his cock lodged so deeply into Red’s throat, and its so wet and warm and soft as Red’s throat tightens around him, drawing shaky little noises of bone deep pleasure. Sans is feeling breathless as Red’s skull bobs up and down his length, feeling the tightening of Red’s magic around him, and Sans shivers. Sweet, soft pleasure sings through him, and Sans gasps with every small noise Red makes, every messy slurp as Red swallows him down.

“Red.” Sans whines, soft and needy, and Red smirks around his heavy cock, picking up the pace, relishing in the feeling of Sans in his throat. The taste of him, the feel of his lovely bones under his hands, and the way he trembled.

Sans tries to buck into him as his breathing goes unsteady, but they aren’t at the right angle for it. Red instead lets him pull his skull in close, holding him down suddenly with surprising strength as Sans suddenly comes hard.

Sweet magic unexpectedly hits the back of Red’s throat in a hot spray, and Sans gasps and groans as Red swallows him down easily. With a grin, as Sans continues to tremble over him, Red pulls off with a wet pop, giving the tip of Sans’s cock an affectionate lick before he pulls away completely, and grins up at Sans with a wide smirk.

It’s toothy and brimming with smug pride that Sans can’t see. Not when his body trembles from the force of his orgasm, not when his skull swims with hazy pleasure and hot need. Not when want fills his belly, and he’s still hard even now he shakes against Red.

Red holds him tight, like he’s holding Sans together, and maybe he is after the emotional roller coaster the last few days had been. Still smug and beaming with satisfaction, Red lays back, pulling Sans down hard with him as Sans buckles, his body giving out on him and he falls into Red’s chest. Drawing Sans onto his hot body, Red holds onto Sans as tight as he dares. Like Sans is the most precious thing in the world to him, like Sans would shatter without Red holding him together, and Sans isn’t sure he won’t.

Only when the burning feeling in his body has settled a little, but Sans is still panting hard, does he manage a very small, “Thanks.” He’s slowly goes limp into Red’s bones, like a puppet whose strings have all been cut and he sinks into Red.

Their legs tangle as Red’s arms go around Sans tightly, and with an affectionate bump of his teeth into the crest of Sans skull, Red gives him a little nuzzle. Its sweet, almost normal, like Red deserves this after the damage he caused, the hurt he inflicted with his words and his inaction.

Red grunts in answer, his claws careful at the back of Sans neck, and for a moment, its okay. The vice is bearable, and briefly, he can feel Lilith’s sheer _panic,_ and that makes his vice gurgle with agitation in his soul again. Sans suddenly goes tense, and Red feels it.

He stills under Sans, before he reaches to lift Sans’s face from his chest, his hands cupping Sans’s cheeks and Red is so, so careful with his claws. His red eye lights are bright and his sockets squint at him with suspicion, and Sans can only imagine what he looks like. Un-showered and tired, near starving and desperate as his vice starts to bubble in his soul again.

Yet, Red stares at him as if there are stars in his eyes, “The fuck is wrong with you?”

Sans shivers at the demand and he doesn’t dare reject it, “Lilith’s upset.”

Red’s head tilts and he hums, studying Sans’s still very dull eye lights, “’Prolly thinks you’ve killed me with that vice of yers.” He muses, his thumb suddenly brushing softly under Sans’s socket, Red’s expression is surprisingly soft, and Sans doesn’t think he realizes he’s touching his face so gently like this.

His words are rough from deep throating Sans, but Red doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Sans likes it, he thinks, wants to hear it more like that, and the vice starts to build again with an odd pulse of possessiveness.

Red blinks at him, watching him intently and sees that Sans’s eye lights are still too dull, and shakes his head no, “Nope, still not right.” He mutters with a shallow frown, his brow furrowed at the dimness of his eye lights.

Sans frowns, confused, “What?”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought as Red yanks him down hard into an open mouth kiss, pressing his tongue into Sans’s mouth. Licking into the inviting heat almost desperately, and Sans can only moan when he can taste his own sweet and sour magic on Red’s tongue, and the warm spice that was Red.

He flushes, when he realises that this is their first kiss, and Sans is laying half naked over Red, and the vice calms again. Claimed or claiming, it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment, and it eases down from Sans’s soul. Shakily, Sans lifts his hand to Red’s cheek, and slowly, messily, he kisses back.

Filled with exhaustion and hunger pains that gnaw at him, Sans isn’t as skilled or prepared as Red is, yet, Red still hums his praise and encouragement. It makes Sans sigh in pleasure, breathless and warm as his soul is gentled.

He soothed enough to send a calm pulse to Lilith, as he kisses Red, finding a rhythm between them, and feels Lilith in his bond for the first time in days.

Sans nearly sobs, but all emotion is swallowed by Red until there is nothing but pleasure. Red bucks up into him again, and for a moment Sans shies away even as his vice bubbles again, demanding that he take Red hard and fast. Take what was his and return Red back to his bonded, utterly wrecked and debauched, _claimed,_ like a cat showing off a successful kill.

Still, the fear rises in his throat, finally making its way passed the anger, and Sans reaches out to Lilith desperate and afraid, even as Red thrusts his tongue into his mouth.

He can’t get words to form, but a complex web of tangled emotions slam through the bond. Regret and remorse. Want and a confusing amount of desire. Guilt.

Oh, the guilt at what he’s done might cripple Sans here and now. He fucked Red, without Lilith, without _really_ talking to her. Sure, they talked, but they hadn’t _talked,_ and now Sans was the one who fucked it up. This was Sans’s fault, and he won’t blame Lilith for being angry at his betrayal.

The guild nearly chokes him, but that too, is swallowed down by Red, and he’s eased a little.

 _Sans?_ Sans nearly sobs to hear Lilith’s voice for the first time in days in his head, its like he’s come to the surface for air after being under water for too long, as something cold and refreshing touches his soul. That too, belongs to Red now and his ever-deepening kiss.

It leaves Sans breathless and his head spins, _I’m sorry!_ He gasps and pours out his grief through their bond.

Lilith echoes back with calm, calm, _calm_ , _You’re not in trouble._ She reassures, _Where are you?_

 _Don’t know!_ He kisses Red back harder, desperate, and needy, and Lilith’s presence fills him, his Judge purrs to feel its other half at last near by. Feels it against his soul, and it too, is calmed.

 _Its fine love. Where’s Red?_ Sans can’t help it, and the bond fills with grief and guilt, and he feels a spike of alarm from Lilith, _Sans. Is Red okay?_

It’s the first time she’s sounds upset, afraid even, and the guilt only intensifies, but Sans can’t stop kissing Red. He’s breathless and his soul is full, too full for the vice to get a good hook into him, _I’m sorry!_ He gasps desperately through the bond, only adding to the confusion as their kiss turns a little rough.

 _I didn’t mean to!_ Guild mixes with Lilith’s sudden bolt of fear, _We. I. He._ Fear from Lilith fills the bond, and he doesn’t understand why, _We fucked. We’re kissing, and we fucked, or I fucked him. Or his throat, I don’t. We’re going to do it again, and I’m sorry!_

There’s a pause, brief and choking as Lilith takes in his words, and for a moment, Sans cringes at her coming anger. Yet, relief and confusion are a weird mix of emotions from her, he can practically hear her sigh of relief, _Okay?_ She pauses again, and Sans groans when Red does something that sends a tingle through his body with his tongue, _Why are you upset? Why are you apologising?_ It seems to dawn on her suddenly, and relief so real sweeps through her that Sans sobs into Red’s mouth.

Red drinks it down and holds him tighter.

Lilith laughs in his head, but its soft and gentle, _Love._ She almost scolds, _It’s not cheating if we talked about it and we want him. Alright, you and Red jumped the orgasm a little bit, but,_ he can feel the mental shrug from her, and it makes Sans feel _better._

Sans feels _whole_ to hear Lilith in his head again, like she was the missing puzzle piece of his soul that had been slotted back into place. His soul swells and he feels heavy with affection, awed by it, relieved that she’s not mad.

He breaks his kiss with Red, a string of thin magic connecting their mouths as they both pant hard, sharing a warm breath under the hot sun. Neither dared move and be the one to ruin the soft moment as they looked into each others eye lights, near white and red, and Sans swallows hard as they share a breath.

_I lava you Lilith._

He feels her joy, her reassurance, her presents that is just _there, I lava you too Sans._ Amusement fills their bond, _Now, fuck Red into oblivion and come home._ Sans’s breath catches at that, and his hand tightens at wherever he’s grasped Red _._

Sans makes a weak noise that has Red frowning up at him, but Sans can’t tell him what’s wrong or why there’s a surge of heat through him. Lilith’s consciousness brushes his like a soft, sweet kiss, and encouragement fills him from her side of the bond. Like she figured out what the hell Red was up to this whole time, and she takes a half step away again, with the last whisper of _wreck him_.

Need and want pulse through Sans, and when he leans down to kiss Red again, he’s far more confident with her blessing. His tongue brushes at Red’s in a hot needy kiss, drawing Red in as his hand shifted to grasp harder at his shirt, anchoring himself to Red’s solid, warm body.

Sans trembles over him with exhaustion and need, and he suddenly feels too hot, his cock too hard, and Red has far too many clothes on. His vice is still running through him hard, catching on this weird ebb and flow of his arousal, spiking hard again as Sans feels his arousal building.

Heat surges through his bones, feeling like magma and he breaks their kiss again, feeling dazed and hot as he ruts helplessly against Red’s pelvis. His need is growing and again its too bright out, too hot and the world is too much.

They’re out in the open, their too vulnerable and Red is _in danger_. His vice is rumbling unhappily, that his chosen mate was out here, unclaimed and exposed.

_~~Not like his bonded, no his bonded was strong. His bonded was claimed, and he would claim their mate and return him home. Yes, he would come home with their mate, sated and marked, and he’d let his bonded see how good he did. He’d bring their mate home, and his bonded would mark their mate too.~~ _

Red blinks up at Sans as his eye lights suddenly brighten up, shining like stars down at Red, and as intense as a super nova. He shivers when Sans bucks against him again, and he feels Sans’s heavy cock pressing into his pelvis.

Excitement rushes through Red, and he grins up at Sans, “Want something _Sansy?_ ”

Sans growls as want and need rush through his bones, and he trembles over Red, “Take your clothes off.” He’s demanding and rough, and it send an excited wave through Red.

Red’s about to refuse, just to be a brat, just to start a fight, but the way Sans trembles, the way he seems to ache, and hurt, has Red relaxing into the ground at his back and giving in, “Alright Sans.” He husks with a grin, “You want me naked?”

Sans’s hand tightens on his shirt, and for a wild minute Red thinks that Sans might just rip his clothing off, and that sends another jolt of mighty _need_ through Red. Sans loosens a little, and gives him a rough, shaky nod.

Red grins, and stretches out under him, long and loose, tucking his hands under his skull, “Words Sans. Or I’m going home and leaving your ass here.” It’s a lie, but it has some clarity coming back to Sans’s eye lights.

“Yes.” He growls, and trembles over Red, “Naked.” His voice is throaty and rough, and Red feels himself go weak. He always did have a thing for being bossed around.

“Alright sweetheart.” He drawls, moving slowly to shimmy out of his t-shirt, leaving his scared ribs exposed, overly hot in the warm summer air.

Sans swallows hard, reaching for his own shirt to yank the sweaty, dirty thing off, showing off his usually glossy, ivory bones. He’s dulled with exhaustion and covered in grime from not showering for days, but Sans still makes Red’s mouth fill with magic as longing fills him. He’s going to taste every single one of those bones, if the battle mage doesn’t kill him, and a part of Red mourns that this will be the first and last time he gets to taste Sans.

He’s sad that he won’t get to see what it’s like with Lilith.

He pushes that down, focuses on Sans’s body and the way he ruts against him. Warmth and want fills him, and ruby magic has gathered in his pelvis long before Sans makes a frustrated noise and pulls his shorts off.

Red lets him, he’s not invested in any of the clothing besides his jacket, which is uncomfortably bunched up at his lower spine, but ultimately safe. In the heat of the summer and on the warm forest floor, Sans thrusts into his over sensitive, unformed magic, drawing a hiss from Red.

Pleasure, nearly overwhelmingly so, rockets through Red, making his toes curl and his body feel tingly tight as he arches into Sans’s body. He’s breathless as Sans bucks into him, thrusting into the unformed magic, heavy with his want, and Red chokes on a strangled gasp.

Sans makes a wet, pleased sound, thrusting in to hear Red make that noise again, as his pussy snaps into place around Sans’s thick, heavy cock, and Red’s walls flutter and pulse around Sans. Red groan’s wantonly and weakly, his knees falling open as he goes briefly lax into the soft earth of the forest.

He’s stretched out to his max, filled so suddenly that Red gasps, and tries to buck up into Sans, but he’s been too well pinned, too well taken for him to truly move. He’s already wet, soaking and ready, practically begging Sans to take him hard.

Sans doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stop or give Red a chance to adjust to his girth inside of him, thrusting deeply and suddenly. He sets a brutal pace, rutting into Red hard, drawing small, wet noises from his throat with every deep thrust that hilted him completely in Red’s body.

Birds sing over head, and a gentle breeze promises a storm is coming, but Red doesn’t see or feel any of it. Not with Sans over him and in him, thrusting near desperate into his body, and all Red can do is hang on for the ride.

Pressing his forehead into Red’s collar bone, Sans’s breathing goes ragged and his arms go tightly around Red’s shoulders. His wrist presses painfully into a scared shoulder blade and his left-hand grips with bruising force as Sans anchors himself.

Warmth and heat pool low in Sans’s body, and his bones sing with sweet agony and Red is sure he can see stars with every hard, brutal thrust. He’s filled with Sans’s essence, his scent, and the feel of him around him, and all he can do is cling to Sans with shaky hands, careful to not dig his claws into Sans’s shoulder blades as he’s taken roughly. For the first time in days, Red forgets about the trauma, he forgets about the blood and dust, and the fucker who nearly dusted Sans and Lilith.

For the firs time in days, Sans’s new vice is soothed and mellowed, his Judge returns to sleep, and as he comes hard, coating the pulsing walls of Red’s slick pussy, they find a measure of peace. Red spasms around Sans, tipping into orgasm after him, and as the vice in his soul finally, _finally,_ lets Sans’s vulnerable, brutalized soul go, it whispers _mark him._

It’s a feeling, a need so desperate, that he somehow thinks Lilith would understand, and he sets his mostly blunt teeth and his sharp canines into Red’s collar bone, biting down hard. Red gasps as the pain mixes with the pleasure of his release, and he cries out in pleasure as Sans tastes the hint of spilt magic on his tongue.

Red’s still writhing into the dirt, coming off his high as Sans drags his tongue over the bite mark, pressing a kiss to the most sensitive part, where his canine pierced the bone, before he nuzzles into Red.

It takes him a moment to come out of it, and Red knows he should be embarrassed by the way he trembles under Sans. He can’t find it in him to, and he grips at Sans just as hard as he’s held onto.

Glancing up, Sans almost looks ashamed of his actions, under all that exhaustion and dirt, but Red can’t help but be pleased by the satisfaction in his eye lights, and the calmness his soul pulses with. The affection that shines back at Red, he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like that before, and Red almost shies away from it.

Red holds Sans’s gaze steady, looking into the soft eye lights over him. They are back to a soft white buzz, and Red relaxes.

“There ya are.” He slurs, tired himself and drained. Sans is still buried deep inside his body, his cock going soft, but his echo remains warm against him.

Sans blinks sleepily at him, coming down from his high of rage and arousal, leaving him just weak and tired. Red smirks, thinks he’s going soft and that he’s never going to get to have this again. He hangs onto this stolen moment for just a little while longer.

He’s going to borrow what was stolen just for a bit longer before he returns Sans back to Lilith, and prepares to have his heart broken.

Not yet. Soon, after he’s rebuilt his barrier around his heart, and ready to face Lilith’s disappointment and disgust for what they’ve done. He’s going to take the responsibility, the _blame_ , for this plan, he just needs a moment or two.

Instead, Red guides Sans’s head back down to his sternum, and a fresh wave of exhaustion rolls through him, “Sleep.”

It’s an order that Sans follows, huffing out a deep sigh like a settling cat, his sockets sink shut, and slowly, so slowly, Sans drifts off to a peaceful sleep.

Red is not far behind him. Even here, out in the open in the middle of the forest, sleeping against the soft ground, unguarded and unprotected, Red sleeps. This is mage territory, Pandora territory, and this is Lilith’s bonded.

Nothing would dare hurt them here.

With a weird safety net circling them, Red lets his sockets shut and he drifts off to sleep. Warm and sated, and for a while at least, holds onto Sans for all his worth.


	46. Country Roads, Take me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red brings Sans home to Lilith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies! 
> 
> New Saturday, new chapter. :) 
> 
> Nothing bad happens here, we're just coming to the end of Sans and Lilith's bonding arc. I really hope you all enjoyed this arc, I had a lot of fun writing it ^^. The next chapter will tie this arc up, before we have a palate cleanser before the next arc starts x3. 
> 
> A big thank you to Kate who came up with the plot point for Sans and Lilith bonding, and Lissy, who came up with the plot point of Sans slipping into madness because of the vice. This was a great arc, and I had a ton of fun. 
> 
> Please be sure to read the warnings for this chapter, and enjoy :) 
> 
> And of course, thank you so much for all your support and continuing to read Haven :) 
> 
> WARNINGS: vaganal sex, echo sex, penetrative sex, smut, lemon, sex.

The sun is lower in the sky when Red woke up, a sure sign that the passage of time had marched its way onward with no regard to them and their needs. Time didn’t care that they needed more sleep, hours of it, time would pause for no one. Not a mage or a monster, battle mage or skeleton.

Time moved on, and as Red fought his way back to the world of light and the reality of what he had just done with Sans starts to crash around him. He is not awake enough yet to fully register the guilt, the devastation that he has ruined his friendship with the mage and her Judge, but with the whole Den as well. Its coming though, that much Red knows, and the passage of time marches on.

He starts to come too, after Sans thoroughly fucked him into the forest floor, and he can feel dirt in his joints. There are pine needles and some kind of foliage uncomfortably stuck to the back side of his scared ribs, and filth from the forest clings to him.

Still, despite all the discomfort and coming guilt, there’s a smug satisfaction and pleasant ache that rolls through his body. He clings to that, as best he can, as he starts to wake a little more, and bright clean light from the sun stretching over his sockets to needle him awake.

Heaving a sigh, Red tries to wake a little more, ignores the heaviness in his soul, and struggles to wake his mind. Taking stock of damage to his body is second nature at this point, so readily done that he’s not even conscious of doing it. Too many years in Underfell, too many times waking up after a beating or a fight, laying in a pool of his own marrow to kick the habit.

There’s a cramp in his lower back, he feels that first, and a pleasant ache in his pelvis, two conflicting feelings that are starting to build in pressure the more he wakes up. The annoying throb in behind his sockets comes next, too many days spent sulking in his room and not eating, despite the few days of prep he gave himself for this. It simply hadn’t been enough, and now he’s paying for not enough sleep or food.

His mouth felt oddly dry, tacky in a way, or stuffed with cotton that made his throat feel tight. There’s a sudden swell of emotion that catches him off guard, chokes him as his soul caves in. He fights it down hard, bottles it to never look at again, and tries not to think that he hadn’t fully prepared himself for the full extent of how much this was going to cost him.

Exhaustion swelled through Red’s soul, replacing the grief he quickly dispatched. He clawed his way to consciousness, and that pitch black void of fatigue sunk its cruel claws into his very soul, trying to pull him back down. It's singing its sirens call and trying to encourage him back to sleep, reminding him that there’s no pain here.

Yet, Red knows that Lilith is waiting for them, and that he has made her worry far more than he meant to.

That more than anything else helps pull him out of the blackness of sleep and his sockets itch as he forces them open. The forest around them is still quiet, peaceful with a gentle summer breeze and only the songs of birds in the air. It's peaceful where they are, and Red lays there as he listens to the songbirds, wishing he had more time.

Yet, Red rarely gets what he wants, barely gets what he needs most times, and when he returned Sans back to Lilith, wrecked and debauched, she was going to hate him. It was okay, he’d already accepted that he would never again be allowed to touch Sans like this. He accepted that fact, and with any luck, Lilith would find it in herself to not hate him so much, and would not take her anger out on Edge.

Red isn’t sure he could handle the self hatred that is already swirling in his soul, if it doubled because he ruined his brother’s chances at being happy.

Peeling open his sockets, the world around them is fuzzy for a moment before the crystal-clear blue sky sharpens overhead and the gentle sway of trees greet him. It's more peaceful then Red ever remembers, more then he deserves, and he again wishes he had more time. He wished he could hang on to the sweet, soft moment just a little bit longer. Just…steal this time that does not belong to him, and the mate that belongs to another. 

He wishes he could keep what was borrowed for just a little bit longer. Yet, his time is up, and he now has to return Sans back to Lilith. Looking down to his chest, Sans is deep in sleep, peaceful and soft, and Red is certain he would tear out his own soul to keep this moment a little longer.

Let it never be said that Red didn’t always do the hard thing, and with a deep, put-upon sigh, Red slowly starts to sit up. His slow movements make Sans stir against him, drawing soft little groans from him as his expression scrunches tightly as he’s disturbed. He still looks so peaceful in rest, finally getting some much-needed sleep after days of pain and agony, and Red doesn’t think they’ve been out in the forest long, but even this little bit has helped. It makes Red’s soul swell with affection, softening towards the monster in his arms, before bitter disappointment fills him again. 

Sans groans again as Red tries to stand, his blunt fingers curling into Reds ribs, clinging tightly to his sturdy frame as Red tries to move. Red feels a wedge getting stuck in his throat as Sans makes a soft little noise and buries his face into his chest.

Red almost breaks at the weak noise that comes from his throat, yet Red soldiers on, and manages too slowly dislodge Sans from his body. It's a slow careful effort to massage Sans’s fingers from his ribs so that Red could slowly stand, and one he takes no pleasure in.

His body is stiff from sleeping on the ground, and he swallows the groan as his joints ache in their protest at movement. Still, he settles Sans as best he can back to the soft earth before he sits up with a stretch that makes something pop back into place in his spine. He steals another moment that isn’t his to take, watching Sans sleep peacefully in the forest, his ribs moving up and down with false lungs in slow, even breaths that makes Red’s soul clench.

He swallows down any emotion that threatens to rise, and sets to work cleaning them up. He came prepared, for Sans more then himself, and pulls a bottle of water and rags from his inventory. He wipes Sans’s bones down first, slow and careful, earning little groans from the monster, wiping the grime of days of not showering and their romp through the forest away.

A bath would be better, but Red does his best.

Dressing Sans is a little trickier. Everything he had on is _gross_ , and it just seems wrong somehow to put him back into filthy clothing. It seems too much like Red doesn’t care, when Red cares far too much.

In the end, he gives Sans’s his slightly cleaner shorts and puts his heavy coat on him, zipping it up to his collar bones, over his bare rib cage. Its only then does Sans wake up, a little bit, with half lidded sockets as he stares wearily at Red, his words soft and slurred, “Wha time iz’t?”

Red gives him a broken, crooked grin and scratched softly at his skull, “Early. Go back to sleep.”

The midday sun hung high over head, bright and hot, is the contrary to Red’s words. Still, Sans sighs, muttering, “’kay.” Before he drifted back into the warmth of sleep, leaving Red alone to manage getting them home.

He wipes himself down, pulling on his t-shirt, its stained with dirt, with brown patches and grass stains at the shoulders from where Sans had pinned him down and fucked him hard. Sans’s shorts are filthy and make even Red cringe, but he puts them on and just takes the discomfort. One more to add to the list, just one more thing to tack on to his cost.

Red shoves it all down, all of it, and plasters on his self-serving smirk, and bends to pick up Sans. Sliding his arms under his knees and around his shoulders, Red lifts him up carefully, holding Sans’s limp form tightly as to not drop him.

Sans seems so small against him, despite the depth of his power, and Red’s mask slips while he cradles Sans against him, trusting in his arms. He’s in awe at the level of confidence that both he and Lilith have in him, doesn’t have the words to fully describe how full that makes Red’s soul feel.

The devastation that he’s destroyed that confidence is only beginning to creep like poison in his soul, and Red fixes his mask before side stepping into a short cut to take them home.

The void is as empty as it always is. Somehow both too dark and too bright as he crosses the great distance from one location to another, and for Sans, Red makes it a smooth ride. No different then if they were crossing the street to go to the little café that he and Lilith like to go to, and for once, Red isn’t an asshole.

He won’t make it a bumpy ride, even if Sans is asleep, a final act of kindness before Lilith comes down on him with thunderous rage and break what little of his heart is left.

The yard is bright without the trees to cool the air over head as Red steps from the void, appearing as though out of thin air and his soul cramps with exhaustion as magic he can’t spare is used up. He should have thought to bring food on this little endeavor, but he had thought what he had managed to save up would have been enough.

It wasn’t, and it will just have to do.

Red almost stumbles as he comes out of the void, his head spinning a little, but his gaze falls directly to Lilith when his vision clears and Red freezes. His soul pulses in pain, and his instinct is to _run._ His knees lock, when he sees her, like his soul is refusing to let him fuck this up again, and Red plants himself in the yard.

Lilith, sitting with her knees drawn up and her elbows pressing into them, suddenly looks up as Red stumbles from the void, her cold expression melting into surprise when she sees them. Red doesn’t say or do anything, just holds still and waits for her explosion of anger.

Her anger over him taking Sans, before he tells her the truth.

Lilith pushes herself to her feet and is trace -running across the field before Red can catch his breath, when she suddenly appears in front of them from a cloud of star dust. She’s dropped to her knees, near desperate to touch Sans as she wordlessly reaches for him, and Red with as much equal silence, hands him over.

He feels his soul cave in as Lilith takes him, pulling Sans’s limp body to her chest, sitting his hips into her lap, his legs loose at her sides, as her arms went around him to hold him tightly. She curled protectively around him, and Red is sure he heard a muffled sob as Lilith clung to him.

Red, twisting in the wind and anticipating the anger, waits for his fate like a man being held at the gallows, like he’s waiting for his turn to be hurt. He averts his eye lights, thinking he doesn’t deserve to witness such a soft showing of love as Lilith presses soft kisses into Sans’s skull, earning a small noise from him.

“Lilith?” Sans slurs a little, full of love for his bonded that makes something in Red’s soul shiver, knowing that no one would ever love him like that.

“Hey,” she says softly back to him, holding him tightly, like he was the most precious thing in the world to her, “I’m here. You’re okay.” And then, “Red brought you back to me.”

Red flinches like he’s been struck, and he can’t look at her, as her oddly soft brown eyes lift to stare at him. Sans makes a soft noise of agreement, like he’s still half asleep, and curls into Lilith’s muscular frame, trusting her to take care of them.

Red doesn’t trust it, everything in him is telling him to run before she gets angry, when she suddenly reaches out to bunch her fingers into the front of his shirt. He flinches, as if expecting to be shoved away or struck, not at all expecting to be hauled towards her.

He trips, falling to the side of her body hard, but Lilith doesn’t so much as move, her soft skin humming with magic as she wraps an arm tightly around his shoulders. She’s pulled him in tightly to a one-armed hug, and holds him just as protectively as Sans, as he was equally as precious as her bonded.

He’s stiff against her, frozen and doesn’t know what to do, when she suddenly whispers, “Thank you.”

Red’s breath catches in his throat as Lilith holds him tightly, like he fucking mattered, like he mattered like Sans did. Guilt swamps his soul when he realizes she doesn’t know about his betrayal. She shivers against him, pressing a kiss to the side of his skull softly when she whispers, “Thank you.” Again.

Sans shifts from her lap, still leaning into her heavily, his arms draped loosely around her waist, when he muttered, “Lili, Red needs a real hug.” His words are still slurred and slow, and he looks so, so tired.

Still stiff, his body craving the contact he didn’t know he needed, Lilith nods against his shoulder before she lets go of Sans to fully twist towards him. Her muscular arms have gone around him before he can pull away, and Lilith pulls him in even tighter until he’s flush with her frame.

He’s stiff in her arms, fear coursing through him so much so that it makes his hands tremble. He’s faced down monsters from Asgore to Nightmare, and never before has Red felt fear so keenly as he does now. Even as warmth radiates through him from Lilith, and everything in him is demanding he give in, Red admits his betrayal, “I fucked Sans.” Is muttered into her bare shoulder where she has reeled him in for a hug, and he cringes.

He waits for her to process his words, “Huh?” she sounds confused, and Red jams his eyes shut as he waits for the anger.

There’s a beat of silence before Sans helpfully adds, “Well, technically, I fucked you.”

Red winces as he holds himself impossibly still and waits for the hug to become too tight or for the blow that never comes. “I mean,” Lilith suddenly says, sounding genuinely confused, “semantics?” and Red just _doesn’t understand_.

“I had sex with Sans.” He tells her again, the wedge in his throat choking him, and his voice creaks.

Its only then does Lilith pull away from him, and as emotion swells in his chest, Red freezes when he finally looks into Lilith’s eyes. She isn’t angry, like he expected her to be, but her brow is furrowed with confusion and concern shines back at him.

Her brown eyes glance to Sans and that concern brightens into fear. Her hands move from around his body to cup his cheeks, holding him like he was porcelain, “Red, are you hurt?”

He blinks, a bit stupidly, at her, and its his turn to have confusion swell through him, “What?”

That seems to raise Sans a little more, and he shakes off his own exhaustion to stare up at him with the same concern, and their eyes flash, telling Red they’re talking through their bond, “Shit. Dude, I. I wasn’t always aware of.” Guilt washes through him and Sans’s white eye lights glance down to his pelvis, “Red, did I hurt you?”

Red’s tired, so very tired and he has no idea what the fuck they’re talking about, “What? No. I fucked you.” He growls angrily, but he can’t quite get his tone to the level of fury he wants.

They both continue to stare back blankly at him before Lilith slowly asks, “Red, hun, did you hit your head or something? You’re repeating yourself.”

Frustration swells, and his skull hurts from the lack of sleep, and all he can snap out is, “I fucked your boyfriend.” As if that would somehow explain it.

Sans blinks dully from Lilith’s chest, “Technically, I fucked you.” He says again, sinking back to Lilith’s chest once he was sure Red wasn’t hurt.

He lets loose a low, frustrated growl from low in his throat, but neither back off and he doesn’t try to shake Lilith’s warm hands from his face, “Why are you not mad!” he finally spits, and its only then does the light go off in Lilith’s head.

“Red.” She told him seriously, her tone returning to her normal monotone, and Red has to wonder when that became comforting, “I know you and Sans had sex.” She told him plainly, and he can hear the unspoken _duh,_ “I’m not mad. Sans told me straight up when he was thinking clearly. And yeah, okay , you two blew passed normal dating etiquette, but this is where this was heading.” She pauses, looking uncertain, “This. _Is_ what you wanted, right?”

It is, it really is, but Red feels himself hesitating, “But.” He glances to Sans, “You have Sans.”

Their eyes do the flashing thing again, and their smiles are slow to grow, “Yes.” She agrees, “And he has me. And we want you.” She pauses again as a pretty blush splashes across her face, “And your brother.”

Sans chuckles, tired and drained from her chest, “We’re greedy bitches like that.”

“Besides,” Lilith is quick to agree and cut in before Red can object, “You brought me home Sans. Red, do you realize how smart you are? How brilliant?” he squirms under the honest compliment, and he drops his eye lights, “You figured out how to manage him. You figured out how to burn through all that magic to wear him down. You did that, I didn’t even think of that. And if sex was a tactic.” She shrugs, still holding Red softly, “As long as neither of you are hurt, I’m fine that you fucked Sans.”

Sans sighs deeply, making Lilith roll her eyes, “Fine. Sorry. Sans fucked you.”

“So.” Red doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him, but he pushes on, “So you’re not mad?”

“I am not mad.” Lilith tells him firmly, and Red feels relief sweep through him, “Are you hurt?”

Shaking his head no, Red feels his knees going weak, “No.”

Lilith looks relieved as well, and nods, “Good.” She tells him firmly, and reels him back into her chest for a hug. She pulls him harder, until he was next to Sans on her lap, and her arms went around both of them. Sans instantly pressed into his side, warmer now, and sated, and finally, _finally,_ Red relaxed.

He went limp in Lilith’s arms, squeezed to her chest next to Sans, and she held them both until his hands stopped shaking. She held him, like he was precious to her, like he meant a damn and he had stars in his eyes.

Lilith held them, until their souls relaxed, and her heart slowed down, and they stepped away from the panic that clung to them all for days. Red went soft against her, and his sockets began to sink as exhaustion welled through him, and he pressed into her.

“You’re lucky, you know.” she muttered into the dirty material of Red’s shirt, and she noses into the side of his skull. Red shivers when she brushes a light kiss along his lower jaw, “Felix found you in like, a hot minute with the witch mirror. We were convinced that Sans was going to kill you, I had to call off the rescue party before they stormed in on you two fucking in the forest.”

Sans huffed into her, sockets sinking close, “Heh, thanks babe.” He sighed, already drifting off to sleep.

Red made a small noise in agreement as well, bending and giving in to his need to be held, and his own sockets start to sink shut. 

Lilith held them both until they were lax in her hold and only then did she pull away a little. Hands still on both of them, she quietly said, “Sans I need to deal with your vice.”

Red peels his sockets open at that, already a step towards sleeping, “I thought that was dealt with?” he’s surprised how thick his voice is, and how quickly he’s falling asleep.

Lilith shook her head no, briefly squeezing them both, “No, you wore it out. It needs to be contained before it can get traction again.”

She eased Red from her lap, so he sits beside her, looking tired and vulnerable, and Lilith pulls a couple of sandwich bags and two juice boxes from her inventory, “Red, your running low on magic, I need you to eat both of those and drink that.” Red’s feeling weary, worn out and drained, and he nods without a fight. She hesitates before she adds, “There’s lots of mustard on it.”

Red shies away from the kindness, not accustomed to it being bestowed upon him so readily, always looking at it with suspicion, and his shoulders hunch up a little. He still leans into her side, even as he quietly opens his sandwich bag.

Lilith brushes another kiss to the top of his skull, “Good boy.” She husks against his bones, and Red can’t understand why that sends a warm shiver down his spine and heat to his pelvis despite his exhaustion.

Stupid libido, this wouldn’t be the first time it’s screwed him over. That being said, no one else had ever praised him like Lilith did.

He shoves that thought down, settles against her side and tucks into his sandwich as Lilith turns towards Sans. She draws her knees up so he can lean back against her legs, and she cups his cheeks softly, “Sans. Love. I need you to wake up.”

Red bites into his sandwich as Lilith encourages Sans’s sockets open, listening into her words as he chews slowly. “Hey love.” Sans makes a soft noise in greeting, “I need you to give me your soul. I’m going to lock up your vice. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll show you how to control it and not let it control you.”

Sans nods with a little groan, “’Kay.” And Red is horrified that Sans just pulls his soul out for her to take while they were vulnerable and outside. Out in the open, and he chokes on his bite of his sandwich.

“The fuck are you doing!” he hisses, as Sans’s silvery blue soul is summoned out in the open of a hot summer day.

Lilith eases Sans’s soul into her hands, giving Red a sideways glance, “Red, we aren’t alone.” She tells him as she pulls her own from her chest, hot crimson to Sans’s soft blue, “Look at the forest.”

He glances away from the cascading light from their souls, sees the speck of red in Sans’s blue and the speck of blue in Lilith’s red, to look to the tree line.

Even in the day, there’s still something unsettling about the forest that surrounds the compound. Full of magic and dragons, covered in thick shadows, and its only after he starts to look, does Red see the shadows of hell hounds moving about in the distance.

“Felix and Wine are with the hounds in the forest.” Lilith tells him softly as she draws Sans’s soul into hers, “Coffee and Nightmare are on the roof. Sin and Glass have taken your brother into town to distract him.” That makes Red feel better, to know that his brother was being cared for, and the boys are good friends.

“Sloan is with Ripper in her room.” She continues, and Red gets the gist of it. They’re alone, but they aren’t _that_ alone.

He takes another bite of his sandwich, ham with mustard overflowing at the edges, as Lilith presses, fully invited, into Sans’s soul. Lilith takes a breath as her eyes go unfocused as she’s pulled into Sans’s soul, and Sans’s eye lights go fuzzy and soft.

They each take a slow, careful exhale, their souls pulsing in time with each other and their breathing synchronized. It’s weird to watch, like two halves of the same soul coming back together as Lilith took control of Sans’s vice.

Red watches as he eats quietly, can pinpoint the moment that Sans tries to fight it, or his vice does, as Lilith builds a box for it in Sans’s mind, and starts to stuff his vice into it. He can see it in the way Sans goes stiff in Lilith’s arms as his vice tries to fight back, and he can see how Lilith tenses like wires have drawn her muscles tight.

Sans’s breathing goes unsteady as his vice rears hard in defiance at being locked up, not allowed to have free rein over Sans’s soul, when Lilith _unleashes_ her own. Sans shutters at the dark maw of Lilith’s vice, the depth of her fury, the sheer amount of anger that she keeps carefully contained.

So deep, so _vicious_ , that it eclipses Sans’s vice, and it trembled before it. Lilith contained such anger, the depth of it outweighing anything a monster could contain and Sans’s vice backed down. Backed away enough that Lilith was able to shove it down into a ready-made box that she had created in his soul and locked it up tight. She’s the only one who has the key, and after Sans has rested, she’ll show him how to control it.

Then, with the practice ease born of three hundred years of war, Lilith reeled her vice back in, locking it back in to its own box and pulled her soul away from Sans’s.

Red watches it all passively, finishing the sandwiches that Lilith had made for him, the intent strong in the food, and waits for them to finish. He watches Sans slump back against her as Lilith untangled their souls and returned Sans back to him.

It’s all over within moments, over so quickly, so anticlimactically, that Red thinks the whole thing should have been more dramatic after all the trouble the vice had caused.

They both sigh as their souls are reabsorbed back into their bodies, hidden away behind bone and muscle, and Lilith sits back with a stretch. Something in her spine pops back into place when she sits up with a groan, and Sans goes limp against her.

Red isn’t sure if he’s sleeping or passed out, but he’s breathing easier when Lilith wraps an arm around him. She turns her attention to Red, her eyes filled with crimson magic, and some colour finally comes back to her face. She doesn’t look so pale now that she isn’t in a constant state of fear for Sans, and she reaches out to grasp Red’s wrist, like she was afraid of him running.

It’s a fair fear, and one he hasn’t really given her reason not to believe.

“Sans’s needs a bath,” she tells him suddenly, drawing his tired eye lights up to her, “But I’m afraid that he’s going to pass out and drown.” He pauses and the pretty blush returns, “This might be weird. But. Uh. Do you want to join?”

He should say no, Sans and Lilith need some peace and quiet together, a chance to reconnect their souls and stabilize. Yet, he’s unbearably lonely, touch starved after days of avoidance, and he desperately wants to be with them. He doesn’t want to be alone, and he wants to be with Sans and Lilith, and even if its awkward, Red nods yes, and gives in.

-

Red had been right, the bath had been weird for him at least, but Lilith seemed unbothered by it and soldiered on. She was right as well, Sans had been half asleep throughout the whole thing. Red had helped keep Sans head above water so they could scrub his bones clean of dirt, grime, and days worth of sweat and thick magic.

His joints were crusted with spoiled magic, thick and heavy, congealed in a way that made them feel sticky. It had taken time for them to clean Sans’s joints, and Lilith hadn’t seemed embarrassed by Red’s nakedness, even when she had helped wash his shoulders while he held Sans, keeping his head above water.

Now, however, they’re in his room. It’s as neat as it could have been for _Red_. Dirty dishes, plates and cups, are stacked in one corner, waiting to be taken back to the kitchen, and socks scattered over the floor. Lilith doesn’t comment on them, has known Sans long enough to not expect miracles and quietly stepped over the socks to tuck Sans into Red’s bed.

He’s not quite asleep, laying in Red’s bed, his skull pressing into Red’s pillow, wrapped in Red’s blanket, _~~getting his scent all through Red’s belongings, and fuck if that doesn’t do something to him. It sends a bold of want right to his soul and his pelvis,~~_ relaxing and limp in the bed. His sockets are half lidded, and his eye lights were hazy.

He’s soft and cozy, and safe in Red’s bed. Nothing would hurt them here, Red wouldn’t allow it. They’ve changed him into soft clothes, a white tank top and shorts, an opposite to Red’s black attire, and Lilith has taken his coat to Edge’s room with the promise of getting it cleaned for him.

It’s another kind gesture that Red doesn’t know what to do with, and it throws him for a loop, like everything else that’s happened with Lilith. He doesn’t know what to do with this kindness, or how to accept it.

Lilith corralled him into sitting at the foot of his bed with her, facing her with his eye lights dropped low, and his hands tucked firmly in his lap. He hadn’t fought her on it and he didn’t know what to say. Sans is still half asleep behind Lilith, his feet tucked into her lower back as he watched Red with weary eye lights to Lilith’s sharp focused eyes.

Red won’t look at her, and inwardly, he squirms with uncertainty. Lilith is solid across from him, looking for all the world to see, unbothered by all this, as she stares at Red with unblinking eyes. She still looks tired, but now that Sans isn’t circling the drain of madness, all her intense focus and attention is suddenly on him.

It makes him feel oddly small.

She sighs, and the soft noise makes him want to curl up and hide, like she’s disappointed in him or something equally stupid. Red’s bracing before he really even realizes he’s doing it, waiting for the strike or the cruel words that don’t come.

Instead, Lilith lays her hands on his shoulders, and gives them a very gentle squeeze, “Okay Red.” Her voice is so soft, so kind that Red feels a warmth he doesn’t think he deserves after all the horrible thing’s he’s done, “I’m sorry.” His head snaps up at that and anger broils easily, but before he can snap at her, that she’s being stupid, that she has nothing to be sorry for, she continues, “You were suffering too, and no one checked in on you.”

Red’s mouth closed slowly, caught off guard and he squinted at her. That wasn’t totally true, the others _had_ tried to check in on him, Red had just been hostile to them, making it very clear he wanted to be left alone. He looks back down with a shrug, “It’s fine.” He muttered, not used to being under such scrutiny. Even Asgore’s gaze was less intense then hers.

Or maybe, Red just gave a damn about her, so her opinion meant more.

“It’s not.” She tells him again, firm, like there was no room for argument. Like she and Sans hadn’t been the ones who almost died, _had died,_ and hadn’t almost been dragged down into insanity because of him. It was like their needs weren’t so dire, “And I’m sorry Red.”

There are so few people who have ever apologised to Red in his life, that he can count them all on one hand, and it does something to him. Something he can’t explain, it makes his soul feel _lighter_ in a way, and he squirms inwardly. This is hitting too close to home and he’s too tired to think clearly.

“You were just as,” she hesitates and chooses her words carefully, “affected by all this. Something is clearly bothering you, and, I have my guesses, but will you tell me?”

Red freezes, every instinct in him telling him to shut down and pretend everything is fine. Every life lesson from Underfell is telling him to shut up. Yet, a small part of him reminds him that, this is the mage’s world, and this is _Lilith_.

Lilith, who fucking chose him when she had Sans.

Still, he hesitates, barely breathing, sucking in shallow little breaths as he tries not to panic and run. It takes longer then he would want to admit, but Lilith is a warm, solid presence with him, with Sans just behind her, and Red eases.

His throat comes unstuck, and the first words of the dam breaking are, “You died.”

Lilith doesn’t so much as blink as her face softens into hurt, “I know.” That’s it, no excuses, nothing but an acknowledgment to the fact.

But those two, small words have yanked the wedge loose, and the words come tumbling out before he can stop them. They’re raw and small, and laced with more pain then he wanted to admit to, “You died and I can’t stop seeing it.” He told her roughly, sockets lowered to not look at her in the eyes and he licks his teeth, “You and Sans both.”

Sans startles when he hears his name, struggling to sit up when Red mentions him as well, blinking at him wearily as Red continues, “I just see you covered in blood. And Sans, covered in dust, and I…” his throat closes again, and he barely cuts off a noise of frustration, staring angrily at the space between he and Lilith.

She’s silent beside him, her hands warm on his shoulders as she squeezes them tight, and there’s a brief moment that he thinks she’s going to suggest he see the doc that everyone else has been to.

Red is ready to fight that, it’s hard enough to admit he has a problem to Lilith, he’s not talking to a stranger. He isn’t sure if Lilith can sense something in him, or if she’s just used to Sans’s bullshit, but she doesn’t say anything and squeezes his shoulders.

He’s prepared to be angry when she apologises, he’s ready for a lot of things, but Red thinks its bull shit she always seems to be a step ahead, “Red, what do you need?”

It almost startles him into looking up, but he manages to keep his sockets firmly planted, “Noth’n. I don’t need anything.”

Lilith snorts, its short and sounds tired, like she’s been running on no sleep despite Edge making her go to bed, “And you’re a better liar than this.” She informs him plainly, and he makes a face like he bit into a lemon.

Lilith sighs, “Red, come on. You need something.”

His mouth, as always, is faster then his fucking brain, “Nah,” and he gives her a slick grin, “I got fucked by Sans, I got what I need.”

In Underfell, that would have gotten him laughs that would have fed his bruised ego for hours. Here, Red suddenly wishes the floor would swallow him whole, and he groans and hides his face the moment his mouth stopped moving.

Sans and Lilith are both staring at him, and he can feel their eyes on him, before Lilith snorts and Sans yawns out, “Pretty sure that’s Red speak for, I’m touched starved, please touch me.”

It shouldn’t come out as inviting as it does, and for a moment, Red could have happily strangled him.

“Oh Red,” Lilith’s tone is soft and teasing, like they usually are with each other, “Do you want me to touch you?”

“I hate you both.” He muttered, making them both snicker again. It’s fun when they gang up on Nightmare or Edge, not so much fun when it’s him.

“Nah,” Lilith tells him suddenly, and he can’t look up at her, but he can hear the smile in her voice, “You don’t.” Its true, and Red has no fight left in him to argue with Lilith, “Now, come here.”

He looks up as she fists her hands in his shirt, urging him towards her, pulling him lightly. Lightly enough that he could have broken out, and knows that if he said no, Lilith would listen to him. She would let him go, and respect anything he said.

It’s the reason he crawls slowly to her, lets her pull him into her lap so he sat like Sans had, with his legs dangling on either side of her hips and her arms went around his shoulders. She held him sweetly as she encouraged Red’s skull down to rest against her collar bone, and for once Red lets himself be held.

Sans too, keeps quite with no sarcastic remark, and Red feels his soul soften with something for them. Knows that he’s safe here with them, that they don’t judge him for what he’s done, for the scars on his body, or even what just happened in the forest.

Lilith holds him tightly, her hand running up and down his spine, and when she speaks, her voice is unusually soft, “It’s going to be okay now Red. You’re not alone. We’re here.”

We. Sans and Lilith. Lilith and Sans. Both so far out of his fucking league, and both fucking chose him.

Red squeezes his sockets shut and allows himself to have this, this tender moment of sweetness after days of pain, terror and grief, and Red selfishly lets himself _have._

Its almost too intimate, in a way, and after they both nearly died, Red had thought that any hope of affection like this had died a brutal death. Yet, he was here in Lilith’s arms, safe and warm, despite everything, and he shivers when she brushes her mouth softly at his collar bone.

Red shivers when her soft lips touch the still sensitive bite mark that Sans left on him, and an unfair amount of arousal surged through his body. Lilith suddenly froze, and Red wasn’t sure if it was because of him or if because of his sudden involuntary tremble, but when he looks to her, she’s staring hyper focused on his bones.

Her eyes have filled with crimson magic, staring at the bite mark with a sudden heavy want and her eyes gleam. Sans chuckles behind her, like he knows something Red doesn’t, and he gets the feeling he’s been marked, _claimed,_ in someway that he doesn’t yet understand.

Weird fucking, kinky battle mages.

_~~Red doesn’t mind it.~~ _

Lilith pulls her eyes away from the bite mark on his collar bone, they’re still gleaming in crimson magic, and Red has suddenly become hyper aware of Lilith’s pert breasts pressing into his chest. She looks up at him, and its only then does Red realize how close they are. How warm her body is, she’s radiating heat like the sun, and Red relaxes against her.

Her mouth is so close to his that he can feel her breath ghosting along his teeth, and if either of them leaned forward, they would fall into a kiss. Red swallows hard when he realizes how close they are, and he suddenly _wants_.

He tries to fight it, he does, Red never gets what he wants so he shouldn’t expect anything different.

Yet, Lilith doesn’t back off like he expects her too, she doesn’t laugh nervously and make it into a joke when her eyes do that weird flashing thing, and Red knows she’s talking to Sans. Instead, Lilith leans in rather then pulling away, stopping only a hairs breath from his teeth.

Its like she’s waiting for him to pull away first, but Red stays still, waiting for her to decide when Lilith pushes forward those last few breaths of air between them, and presses her mouth to his. Her lips are soft against his teeth, unusually so. Lilith’s eyes drift shut, and Red is helpless to not respond.

He presses into her, kissing her back just as softly, just as with much gentle intent and care, his own sockets sinking shut even as his hands tremble. He fisted them at Lilith’s back, clenching them tightly into her shirt, and he sucks in a warm breath of air when her dexterous tongue lapped at his razor-sharp teeth. Magic coats them before he parts his mouth, and Lilith’s tongue confidently presses into his own as she licks into him.

The magic that makes up his skull, moves against her lips, soft and careful as she deepens their kiss, softly exploring his mouth at her leisure. Red, with a weird aching softness in his soul, lets her. He lets her take his mouth, controlling their kiss, dominate him until he’s starved for oxygen and his head spins. Let’s her tongue brush against his in a too sweet kiss, and he’s sure that no one has ever touched him with this much tender affection.

Her hands move up to cup his cheeks again, and as she ravages his mouth, their kiss becomes more intense, and she holds him like he was precious to her. Like he was fucking delicate, and behind her Sans hisses out a soft sigh. Red can feel the weight of his stare, hot and heavy against his bones, and fuck if Red doesn’t like Sans watching.

They break apart when Lilith needs to breathe, and he’s pleased that her breathing is as ragged and rough as his own, her lips kiss swollen, and he can still taste her magic on his tongue. She rests her forehead against his, they’re both panting hard, sharing the same breath, when she finally asks, “Red?” she breathes his name softly, like a question. Like she was asking permission.

He nods before he’s really conscious of the action. He’s far too needy and desperate, and he _needs_ them to touch him, and he’s nodding at his name being spoken softly, pressing his mouth back to hers.

Lilith takes him easily, deepening their kiss again, softly and lovingly kissing him back. Her hands are warm on his cheeks, her thumbs soft when she brushes them under his sockets almost tenderly, that it makes Red shiver.

He doesn’t fight it when Lilith pushes him back, still in her lap and still kissing her, and into Sans’s chest. Sans pulls him backwards, his mouth gently latching onto his collar bone again, gently lapping at the bite mark Sans put on him. Pleasure skitters down Red’s body, chasing away his fear and uncertainty as they kiss him, Lilith licking into his mouth while Sans nips at his collar bone.

It’s almost over whelming, its _almost_ too much, pressed between Sans and Lilith, and its almost unfair how they can pick him apart without saying a word to each other. Yet, when Lilith’s hands slip up his shirt, and she touches his scared bones, she moves without hesitation, like she’s touched him a thousand times before.

Her fingers are nimble and soft, even when she scrapes her nails at the back of his spine or the inside of his ribs. It makes him buck and gasp into their kiss, but his small noises are swallowed by their kiss, and when Sans whispers, “Give her something to play with.” Into the side of his skull, Red is helpless to comply.

Her hands are warm on his chest, her thumbs brushing at his sternum as magic swirls in his pelvis, and Red _needs_ to be touched. He needs to have someone touch him softly, he needs someone to really feel him, and he’s helpless as his echo spreads up his body, covering him from knees to collar bones in scared ruby magic.

The false flesh of his echo is sensitive and makes him arch as a soft, soaking mound forms between his legs, and his pussy is already wet from her careful touching. But his echo spreads over his ribs, and up to his chest to swell under Lilith’s hands and she suddenly has two hand full’s of his generous breasts. 

He freezes when he feels Lilith still, sucking in a breath that she steals from him, and Red breaks their kiss, “Sorry.” He wheezed out, trying to get his head to stop spinning , and the full, sweet feeling in his soul, under control.

Lilith has stilled over him, her hands unmoving over his heavy breasts, and Red winces when she’s staring at his covered chest in shock, like she can’t believe what she’s feeling. It makes Red feel small, uncertain, like he’s done something wrong, “Sorry.” He tells her again, and Lilith lifts her eyes to his face, her crimson orbs wide with awe, “I’ll change it. Just gimmi a sec.”

Lilith’s head thrashes no, “Wait.” She tells him, blinking at him as the surprise is starting to wear off and her face colours in a pretty blush. It’s weird, Red never would have thought of her as pretty before, when they first met, but he does now.

He wants her to like his body.

“Do you want me to touch you like this?” she asks, and there’s a wonder in her voice, rather then horror, like she wants him like this too.

Red shrugs, and her hands are still unmoving, “It’s not what you want.” He mutters from between clenched teeth, and he wishes she would do something.

Lilith rolls her eyes, “Red,” its only now that she almost scolds him, and part of him wants to be a brat and drag more of that out of her, “I’ve been with women before.”

Red curses as another flush of want runs through him, and slick slips down his thigh, “If your comfortable like this, I am too.” And she smiles, and that more then anything eases Red. Lilith doesn’t smile when she’s lying, or even walking the line of untruth, which can only mean she _does_ like this body, “Do you want me to touch you like this?”

Red nods, his voice rough, “Yes.” He whispers.

“Okay, she pulls her hands from his shirt, the tips of her fingers trailing along his bare belly, making him shiver, “Rules.” She told him as she grasped the hem of his t-shirt, “You want me to stop. We stop. You want me to slow down, we slow down. Balls in your court this time.”

Sans laughs gently behind him, soft and hazy with fatigue, “Heh, balls.” The puff of air from his breath ghosts along Red’s neck, and it makes him shiver. The fucker.

Lilith rolls her eyes, again, used to Sans bull shit, before she looks back to Red, her hands still on the hem of his shirt, her thumb brushing at his belly. Red stares back at her, eye lights bright with want, and his mouth goes dry when Sans leans back in to nuzzle along his throat, “Words Kitten.” He purrs against Red’s throat, throwing his words back at him, and Sans is lucky Red doesn’t throttle him for the nickname.

He refused to acknowledge how fucking cute that was or that Sans calling him _Kitten_ , did anything other then vex him, “Fucker.” He hissed, bucking his hips into Lilith’s hands, growling in frustration, squirming as Lilith touches his belly softly.

Sans and Lilith both hum, as if amused, and using their fucking bond against him. Which, and Red knows this to be true, would be funny against anyone else.

Sans hums against his throat, and any of his exhaustion seems to have taken a back seat to his sudden interest in his bonded fucking him, “Hmmm, she still needs words _Kitten_.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Red husks without heat, and it makes them both _laugh_. In Underfell, that threat would have sent the scum that went to Grillby’s scattering.

He gasps when Sans leans down to suck at his collar bone, arching a little more into Lilith, and she smirks when he does, watching his body move under her mate’s sinful mouth. Watches how Red’s breasts fill his tank top to the point its too small, and she tilts her head, “Not those words Red.” She tells him gently with a smile.

He arches again, desperate to be touched, but Lilith is a fucking unmovable object when she wants to be, and doesn’t give in until he gasps out, “Yes!” which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense given her question, but she grins when he adds, “Just fucking touch me.”

Sans, the fucker, snorts against the side of his throat, and even Lilith smiles at the neediness in his tone. She eases his tank top off, pulling it carefully over his head to toss to the floor with the rest of his clothes, and Red shrinks back against Sans as she stares at his body with wide eye’d awe.

For a moment, shame chokes him as Lilith’s eyes gaze over his scared echo, damaged from years of abuse and neglect. Wherever a scar crossed his bones, it was mirrored on his echo as well, leaving his echo dull looking and ugly. There’s an ugly patch of burned false flesh at his hip, where Asgore had grabbed his hip once with his hand engulfed in flames. It had hurt and Red had swallowed back his cry of agony and had laughed in Asgore’s face.

Now, its an ugly bubbled patch of false skin that he’s ashamed of.

“Oh.” Lilith gasped softly as she scanned his body, glancing up to his chest, his hips still nestled in her lap and her hands fell to his hips. He shivered when she brushed at the bubbled scar where he had been burned, before her hand brushed at his flat belly.

Starving in Underfell made him leaner than any Sans from a Tale universe, even eating at Grillby’s as often as he had, and it had taken _time_ to put on weight once Nightmare found him. He was still scared and ugly, and far too skinny, “Oh stars your pretty.”

Her words are soft and gentle, awed as she watches him and Red startles at the bright magic in her eyes, watching her watch him.

“I’m not.” He tells her gruffly, shivering at the touch, earning a snort from both her and Sans.

“You are.” Lilith whispered to him, the hand that was gentle at the scar to his hip tracing up the side of his body, drawing out a shiver from him, “You’re like a walking galaxy.” She whispered like she meant it, her eyes gleaming brightly as she looked at him, touching him softly, and he tried to see himself from her perspective.

He tried to see himself like she saw him, glancing down the front of his body to his echo, and the gleaming, sparkling magic that made it up, but he struggles to see what she sees.

“Pretty.” Sans agrees, brushing his teeth along Red’s shoulder, and he gasps when Lilith reaches up to his chest, cupping his breasts softly, rolling one of his nipples between her thumb and index finger. Red gasps, arching off Sans’s chest and into Lilith’s fingers.

Sans grins at his reaction, nuzzling into Red’s throat as Lilith fondles his breast with one hand, and explores his echo, fingers brushing at the sensitive scars on his body, with the other. Red squirms at the soft touch to his body, and it makes Lilith grin, her eyes flashing up to Sans before they come back to him, “Fuck your pretty.”

Red’s about to argue with her, even as arousal slicks down his leg, but Lilith muffles his protest with another kiss, swallowing his words down readily as her fingers trail down his middle, down between his breasts and low on his belly.

She shifts, so she’s leaning over him, dropping down to her elbow so she can lay next to him, shifting so she doesn’t pin him with her weight, her fingers trailing along his belly and past the waist band of his shorts. Red trembles under her touch as her fingers brush at his inner thigh, groaning into their kiss.

Sans’s mouth goes back to his throat as his arm goes around Red’s back, so he could squeeze at the breast that was pressed into Lilith’s. Pleasure skitters through Red and he whines into his kiss with Lilith.

It makes Lilith smile softly, breaking their kiss so she can watch Red squirm, Lilith tilted her head with a soft grin and a pretty flush on her pale cheeks, “Sans, can you do this too?”

Red groans in frustration when her fingers lightly dance around him, touching the folds of his delicate false flesh and he squirms helplessly. Sans hums into his throat, nipping at the sensitive bones, “Hmm? Oh, yeah. But I like it when you touch my bones.” He shrugs, and Lilith nods placidly along, teasing Red with her too light touches.

They’re speaking mildly, as if they were discussing the fucking weather, and they weren’t teasing him with in an inch of his life, “Y-you two are assholes.” His voice creaks and he trembles under the touches they are teasing him with.

Lilith hums an agreement and Sans laughs as he goes back to nuzzling into his throat. Lilith leans into the other side of his skull, her fingers trailing through the slick on his thigh, and she nuzzles into his skull, “True. But we’re your favorite assholes.” 

His sarcastic response is choked off when Lilith’s teasing fingers trail along the delicate folds of pseudo flesh, before she presses two fingers into his clit. She moved her fingers in a tight circle, sending hot pleasure through Red’s body, so intense that his knees press in hard into her forearm. She keeps up the pressure, her fingers gliding through the slick of his echo and Red swallows back his cry of pleasure.

Ages of needing to keep quite have Red shoving his hands over his mouth tightly, trying desperately to silence himself as pleasure builds through him. Lilith and Sans both make gentle tsking sounds, and even as she continues to touch him, continues to rub his clit in hard little circles, they reach up to each take a wrist to pull away from his mouth.

“None of that.” Lilith whispers to him, her mouth brushing at his collar bones.

“We like to hear you.” Sans adds, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he left, sending another bolt of pleasure through Red.

With out his hands clamped tightly over his mouth, Red is unable to stop the deep, filthy moan that slips out. It makes them both grin against his body.

“Oh,” Sans shivers at his back, “Lilith, get him to make that noise again.” His voice is husky with his own want, and Red is too far trapped in his own heady pleasure to realize that Sans is too tired to form anything.

Instead, Lilith laughs softly against Red’s throat at the request, humming her own approval, “So pretty.” She whispers against his skull, “So smart.” She adds, shifting her hand so that her thumb presses hard into his clit, and two fingers ease inside.

Red arches hard with a guttural, deep groan, his body trembling as Lilith’s fingers sink smoothly up to her second knuckles, before she gently slides them out. The walls of Red’s pussy flutter hard against her fingers, trying to draw them back in as they slide outwards, drawing more small, wet noises from Red.

His sockets sink shut, lost to the haze of his pleasure just as Lilith leans in, warm and her voice dropping to a possessive octave, just as Sans gives his nipple a hard twist, “ _Ours._ ” She whispers roughly against his skull as she suddenly buries her fingers deeply inside, and spreads them.

Red cries out as he’s parted, scissored, and picked apart so cleanly by this bonded pair that he has no defence against. Pleasure rockets through him, swirling with the soft feeling of affection and want, and something else entirely that he’s not ready to look at. A soft feeling that Red liked to pretend didn’t exist in his soul that made his knees go weak, and made him give into this worlds Soft Judge and the Battle Mage.

They do it again, touching him just hard enough that Red trembles and twists helplessly between them, and just as his climax builds in earnest, Lilith leans forward, presses her small, blunt teeth to his collar bone, the one opposite to where Sans marked him, and bit down hard.

The pain blurred into pleasure, and as Red cried out, he came hard. The walls of his pussy fluttering and squeezing desperately at Lilith’s fingers to keep them in place as his feet scrambled for leverage but found none. They help him ride it out, holding him tightly, as he came around Lilith’s fingers, and she licked and kissed the light bruising bite she left to mirror Sans’s.

He comes down from his high slowly, trembling between them and utterly vulnerable. It’s weird, he would never had allowed himself to be fucked, twice, like this and leave himself so open to attack. Yet, it feels…right with Sans and Lilith. Like he’s safe, as they hold him between them.

He…likes this safety, this vulnerability with them.

He’s still shaking as Lilith eases her fingers from his body, and its unfairly hot when she licks them clean with a smirk. All Red can do is blink up at her in awe, and behind him, Sans chuckles, “I think we broke him Lili.” 

She hums around her fingers, looking god damned proud of herself, before she popped them from her mouth with a smirk. She eased down next to him, so Red lay, still trembling, between she and Sans, her still slick fingers resting at the burned patch of skin, “We did.” She sounds amused, delighted even and she nuzzles into the side of his skull, “You two should sleep though. You’ve both expended a lot of magic, you need to rest.”

Red’s head is still spinning, coming down from his post orgasm high, leaning into Sans as he wraps his arms around his shoulders, his forearms resting along his collar bones, shielding his shiny new bite mark, “Right.” He snorts at his mate, “’Cuz you’re not running on fumes _at all_.”

Red blinks up at Lilith, still caught in a hazy of pleasure that he’s only just climbing out of, and the exhaustion isn’t helping. She rolls her eyes at Sans, squirming to get a little closer to him to knock her head to his, Red sandwiched safely between them, “Stars I missed you.” She suddenly whispers to him, and Sans lets his sockets sink, and Red feels like he’s been included into something very intimate. Something that maybe he shouldn’t be, but Sans holds him tightly.

“Missed you too.” He muttered back, earning a kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Missed your sass.” She teased, but there’s no heat to her tone, its playful and kind, and Red isn’t sure he’s ever heard Lilith sound so soft before. He’s never been in the safety of her space, not like this, not as one of hers, and it eases something in him. “Don’t worry. I’m going to nap with you.”

Crimson eyes glance down to Red, and she brushes a kiss along the faded scar through his socket, “Come on. Let’s get you two comfortable, and get some real sleep.”

Sans is already rubbing at his sockets, already nodding and ready to just _sleep_ , when Red shakes his head no. His hand waves desperately, uncoordinated with how tired he was, to grab onto Lilith’s forearm, “Wait.”

They both pause, waiting for him to find his voice, letting him speak. It’s a weird feeling to be respected enough to be given the space, and he doesn’t squander it, “Wha’ about you?”

Lilith’s brow furrows in confusion, and Red isn’t sure when that became cute, “What about me?”

He’s already focusing, trying to get his magic to reform into something he thinks she might enjoy, “I owe you one.” He slurs, blinking hard to clear his vision. He’s tired and she’s right, they should sleep, but he _wants._

Lilith gives him a patient smile, “Oh Kitten.” He huffs at the pet name, “Just because I made you cum, doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” She reassures him softly, nuzzling again into his skull, and Red thinks that’s bull shit.

She’s already opening her mouth to reassure him it’s fine, that he just needs to sleep and to be fair, he does, but his magic has already begun to shift. It’s awkward and tight, but her teeth snap together as his cock fills in the space where his pussy had been. Hard and thick between his legs, and still wet, a bead of magic already welling at his sensitive slit.

“Oh shit.” Sans chuckles behind him, and instantly Red feels embarrassed. Self hatred nearly choked out his arousal, and his heavy cock, ridged along the bottom compared to the smoothness that Sans had, trembles between his thighs, “I should have let you fuck me.”

Lilith is nodding, “You missed out.” She agrees, earning a shit eating grin from her mate. She’s still staring at Red, and he flushes when its with the same awe that she looked at the rest of him, “Red is that a piercing?”

He flushes harder, “Yeah?” he hesitates, and shrugs, “I can take it out if you don’t…like it.” He’d gotten it _specifically_ because Asgore hadn’t liked it. In their twisted game, Red did anything and everything to draw that ire.

“No.” both Sans and Lilith say at the same time, making Red twitch at the sudden noise around him, and Lilith clears her throat, “No, that. That’s perfect.”

She bites her lower lip, and Red ache’s to be touched, feels hot under her heavy gaze.

Lilith takes a breath, and Red can see her shoving her desire down in favor of their care, “As.” She chokes a little on her words, “Impressive as you are Red. It’s still been a long week. We should sleep.”

Red frowns, feels a weird pulse of affection and disappointment. He wanted them to want him, to touch him but he was fucking tired, knew that Lilith was right.

Sans wasn’t as agreeable.

“Lilith.” Sans hissed, scandalized that his mate was turning him down, “If I had the energy to form something, I would.” His voice deepens, and he rubs along Red’s skull, flashing his eye lights at his mate.

Lilith makes a weak expression, but Red knows that she had far more will then Sans and wouldn’t give into her own needs if it meant doing what was right by them. As the disappointment fades and warm affection replaces it completely, Red knows that if he wants Lilith to give into her baser needs, Red needs her to know its alright.

His head clears a little now that she isn’t fucking him with her fingers, and Red knows how to play just as dirty. He tilts his head towards Sans for added effect, and pitches his voice low, “Please Lilith?” and his cock is heavy and hard between his thighs, knowing that she wasn’t disgusted with him. That the only thing stopping her was her worry over him.

Sans’s breath hitches and Lilith’s eyes flash a brighter red with want, and Red knows he’s got them on the line. The pleading is dirty pool, and Sans catches on faster then she does, “Lili, he’s so pretty when he begs.”

Red presses into Sans’s head, offering his throat to her, ignoring every instinct that tells him not to show his belly. Yet, its Lilith and Sans, they would _never_ hurt him.

Lilith’s breathing catches, watching them, and when she blinks, the magic in her eyes forms small red hearts. She swallows hard, and shakes herself out as if she were clearing her head, “Your sure Red?” there’s still hesitation in her tone, like she wasn’t sure.

Red nods, arching again when Sans grasps a breast, thumbing a nipple, “Yes.” He hisses out to them both as Sans noses his way under Red’s chin.

Lilith’s resolve crumbles, and as she pulls her shirt up over her head, Sans takes Red by the chin to watch her, “She’s so perfect, isn’t she?” he sighs into Red’s shoulder, his hand still tight on his chin, as if Red would want to look away, but he presses into Sans’s hold. The hold sends a shiver down his spine just as much as Sans’s sheer love for his bonded.

Red, briefly, thinks he’s not good enough for them. Too damaged and came with too much baggage, but Sans’s hands are firm and cool on his body, and when he tweaks a nipple again, the sensation drives the thought from his mind. 

Sans’s right, Lilith, for all her rough exterior and blood thirsty nature, was a fucking goddess. Her arms and stomach are packed with hard muscle that rivaled Undyne’s and most of it wasn’t from the magic that coursed through her veins.

Her skin was soft and pale, like it had been kissed by moon light, and those silvery freckles lightly splashed down the long column of her neck and shoulders. Most of the scars over her body are light, save a few; the one at her throat a gift from Undyne and the one at her knee from a training accident, where Lilith tripped over a star grenade.

Most of the scars tell stories of close calls and almosts. When her healing trait yanked her back from the brink of death, like a mosaic of the struggle she thrived in. Red’s eye lights travel the length of her body, pausing at her pert breasts, and swallows hard.

They aren’t even as large as his own echo, but round and soft, with light coral nipples. She catches him staring, and a blush colours her face, “What?” she clenches at the shirt in her hands tightly, and Red swallows.

Sans grins up at her, nuzzling into the side of Red’s throat, “Oh nothing. Red’s just come to the conclusion that you’re perfect.”

Lilith flushes a deeper red, and Red wonders what it would taste like. Tossing the shirt to the floor to crumple among his socks, she frowns, “I’m not perfect.” She tells them quietly, hooking her fingers into her tight black shorts, and pulls them down.

Red follows their journey down her shapely legs, and feels his mouth go dry, shying away from the silky skin from between her legs.

Sans snorts, “Hmm, its all a matter of perspective Lili.” He muses, staring lovingly at her, his eyes flicking upwards to her face, and the lovely blush that’s spread up to her ears.

Red feels like he’s on fire, and there’s a heavy wedge in his throat, and all he can do is mutter an agreement. It makes Sans smirk widely, nuzzling into the side of his throat, “See Lilith, you left Red speechless.”

Red squirms as Lilith rolls her eyes, crawling over to them. She reaches for Sans first, pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth. Tired or not, he takes it readily, demanding even, as she tilts her head and kisses him. Red stills between them, terrified he’s going to wake up from this impossible dream, when Lilith breaks their kiss. “You talk too much.” She muses, grinning playfully at Sans, and Red feels another bold of arousal shoot right to his cock.

He’s never seen her so playful, so soft, and Red _likes_ it. Likes this hidden side of her.

Lilith looks down to him, and Red suddenly swallows as Lilith takes him by the chin, pressing a kiss to his mouth. Red sighs, sockets sinking shut as she climbs over his lap, settling on his hips comfortably as she kisses him soft and slow, her thumb brushing lovingly at his cheek.

She moves to sit over his hard length, ready to sink down over him, when Red jerks back, and Lilith stills as their kiss is broken.

Her brows furrow in confusion, when Red blurts out, “Yer gonna hurt ya self.” His accent comes out thicker in his sudden panic, and he knows, _knows_ , that she has the healing trait but that wasn’t the point.

He wanted Lilith to _feel_ good.

Crimson eyes blink at him and Lilith’s smile is slow to grow, “Kitten, do you really think I just got you off and I’m _not_ wet?”

Red blinks up at her and offers a half shrug. It had crossed his mind, that Lilith, unflappable as she was, had been unaffected by what she had done to him. She rolls her eyes at him, and it make Sans chuckle warmly at his back.

Lilith presses her head to his, rubbing her forehead against his, softly saying, “You’re very sexy Red.” She tells him, making him swallow hard to choke off his denial. He’s not, and no one had ever told him as such.

Yet, when she leans back on his hard length, sinking down onto him, Red can feel that she’s _soaked_. He can feel her warm heat fluttering around him, pulling him softly inward, and as he watches her watch him, Lilith gasps.

Her expression lights up in delight and pleasure, breathless and needy as she sinks all the way down to the hilt. Red makes a weak noise, struggling to stay still as Lilith makes gasping little noises, her head sinking to his shoulder.

Lilith swallows hard, her walls squeezing him almost too tightly, almost too unbearable. She’s so tight around him, so wet and warm, and she clings to him so sweetly. “Alright there Lili?” Red croaks, and she nods against his shoulder.

“Yeah.” She sounds breathless, her tone tinged with pleasure, “Just. Need a sec.”

Sans presses into Red’s skull, looking for all the world amused by everything. He’s warming at Red’s back, and he purrs lightly into Red’s bones, “You’re gonna wreck yourself on him Lilith.”

“Yep.” She agrees, shivering as her body grows to accommodate the delicious warmth in her body, the stretch in all the right places. She swallows again, “Fuck Red.” She praises him weakly, sending a shiver down his spine, before she starts to move.

Her hips move slowly up, in an agonizing slow pace that has Red whining, his piercing pressing softly into her warm body, and her pussy tries to pull him back in. When she’s at the tip of his dick, she eases back down, a little faster as she finds her rhythm.

Red’s helpless but to hang on for the ride, surrendering completely to Lilith, and when she takes one of his hands, pressing his sharp clawed digits into the soft flesh of her breast, he squeezes hard. She sighs in pleasure as he rolls a thumb over her nipple. Its softer then his own, the skin of her chest protected by a heavy chest plate and saved from the worse damage from the war.

Lilith curls over him, her hand bunching into the dark sheets of his bed, cursing as she rides him, slow and soft, and Red can feel Sans shivering behind him. He’s just as in awe, just as love struck as Red is, and would have kept staring at her, if Lilith hadn’t reached for the back of Sans’s skull, encouraging him down towards Red.

He goes willing, pressing his mouth into Red’s, pulling him into a desperate kiss, Sans’s tongue pressing into Red’s mouth, caressing his tongue. Red squeezes at Lilith’s pert breast, wrapping his arm around Sans to hold him, and Red shivers when Lilith takes his hand. _Holding it_ of all things, as she rides him hard.

Its too much, its all suddenly too much. Too wet, too hot, too _good_.

Red feels the building of his orgasm hard and fast, feels how the walls of Lilith’s pussy pulse hard against him, and when he tips over into orgasm, spraying hot cum to add to her soaking channel, he drags her into her own orgasm.

She gasps into the top of Sans skull, holding Red’s hand, breathless as she presses a messy kiss to his fingers and there is a gush of fluid over Red’s cock, slick dripping down his ruby magic. Lilith goes boneless over him, panting hard, twitching and around him as she clung to he and Sans as tightly as she could. They’re all a sweating, breathless mess, and as Sans and Lilith’s arms tighten around him, Red knows he wouldn’t be any where else in the world.

He got the boy _and_ the girl, an end he never thought he would get. He squeezes them back just as tightly, just as desperately, and clings to them, burying his face into any part of Lilith and Sans he can get to.

For now, at least, Red was honestly, truly, blessedly, _happy._

_-_

Shifting in Red’s sheets, Lilith pulls him flush to the front of her body, her legs slotting in tightly behind his, with an arm banded around his ribs so his spine pressed into her sternum. He’s breathing softly into Sans’s chest, his expression lax and peaceful as he finally sleeps.

Sans shifts in his sleep, pressing harder into Red from where Sans held onto him; Sans had pressed himself into Red’s space, tucking Red into his chest, pressing Red’s cheek into his sternum so Sans’s chin rested on Red’s skull.

They’re twinned tightly together in the hot afternoon, each touching the other in some capacity, as Lilith reaches out to curl an arm around Sans’s waist, pulling him closer to Red. After riding Red to completion, both he and Sans had started to fall asleep near instantly, the days of pain draining them both now that it was over.

The sex had helped to settled them, to calm their minds and distract from the things that hurt them. From the things that would give them nightmares, and Lilith knew they would need to talk about it, but not right now.

They had let her wipe them all down of sweat, her instinct screaming at her to care for her bonded and their chosen mate, refusing to allow her to let them sleep in wet, sweaty sheets. She wouldn’t allow her mates to sleep in the wet spot, and had changed the sheets out as well.

Red shifts, groaning suddenly as he buries his face into Sans’s chest to hide from the nightmares that plague him. Sans pulls him in tighter even in is sleep, and Lilith is quick to sooth him. She whispers sweet words of reassurance and affection, speaks of love when Red is asleep and isn’t likely to bolt when she tells him the truth.

The same soft, delicate feeling that washes silently over Sans as he dreams of the three of them, soothed by their soul songs, and Red settles with a soft chuff. A pocket of air huffed from between his teeth, and Lilith quietly smudges away the tears at the corners of his sockets before they fall.

Lilith doesn’t know what bad dreams Red is having this afternoon, she could guess that it was her and Sans’s latest brush with death, but what little she did know about Underfell told of rampant abuse by their King.

It makes Lilith’s own vice rattle viciously in its cage and she can taste copper at the back of her tongue as a phantom taste. A precursor to violence that her instinct demanded, but her higher brain functions know won’t happen.

She _doubts_ Nightmare would allow her into Underfell to cause a murder. Well, he _might_ , if Lilith really thought about it, but it would upset the girls mostly, and they were keeping enough secrets from them.

For now, she quietly scrubbed the tears from his sockets and would keep his secret. Keep it to herself that his guard only came down enough to be this hurt when he was asleep and allowed himself to be this vulnerable. It was fine, that would be her secret to keep.

Settling down with them, intending on sleeping, both Sans and Red eased and gentled, yet, something doesn’t feel right. Like something is missing here, but she can’t quite place her finger on what. Like a piece of her puzzling is out of line, she just didn’t know where it was out of placement.

The door to Red’s room creeks open, and Lilith stiffens. Even as her instinct is blessedly quiet, and Lilith _knows_ she safe, its still been a long few weeks really, and she doesn’t think anyone will blame her for sitting up a little too quick. Wouldn’t say anything if she’s a little raw, like a nerve too close to the surface, and when she pulls Red and Sans hard towards her, she’s surprised she doesn’t wake either of them.

She hovers over them, ready to get between any threat and them, when Edge’s skull pops through the door, and she relaxes. Her shoulders drop, and she loosens instantly into the bed again as a soul deep weariness swells through her, “Hey.” 

Edge frowns at her voice, crimson eye lights glancing to Red and Sans in the bed before they pin her with a look. Stepping through the thresh hold, something shifts in Lilith’s soul, like that out of line puzzle piece has been slotted back into place, and something sighs out _oh, there you are._

Sans feels it even in sleep, echoes back to her his own soft feeling towards the brothers, even on a subconscious level. He settles further, comforted by Edge’s presence as he steps fully into Red’s room.

He hesitates by the door, glancing to Red before taking a step inside, quietly closing the door behind him, “Are you alright?”

Lilith gives him a tight grin, “I’m durable, remember?”

Edge doesn’t smile at her, and continues to give her a flat look, “That’s not what I mean.” They both know it to be true, but Lilith is _tired_ , and sleep sounds like the better option.

She gives in first, only gives in to family, and looks away at his demanding voice, “I don’t know.” She admits, not wanting to think just how close she came to loosing Sans and Red.

Edge makes a hum of agreement, taking a step closer, eyeing his brothers’ bed suspiciously. Lilith rallies her courage and looks back up at him, “Are _you_ okay?”

Edge, looking unfairly good in his black t shirt that hugs his body well and pants that somehow manage to give his boney ass something to grab, looks up from his suspicious glaring at the bed to look at her, “No.” he tells her honestly, and it makes Lilith frown as his hands clench.

Edge, always afraid of hurting them with his razor-sharp claws, still wore his elbow length gloves, forced his long fingers to uncurl from his fist, and she feels her heart plummet. Had they miscalculated? Is this _not_ what Edge wanted? She knew that they didn’t get a chance to really _talk,_ but were she and Sans really that far off base that he’d be angry?

Something cold spears her soul, and it has Sans squirming in the bed next to Red at her sudden flair of upset that she failed to clamp down on. She braces for rejection, even anger, when Edge says, “I almost lost you, Sans and Red within the span of two weeks. I don’t even dare imagine what would have happened had Sans, fate forbit, died. What that would have done to you and Red.”

He glances to his brother’s peacefully sleeping face and a look of hurt crosses Edge’s expression, “You would have lived, unhappily, out of some sense of duty. But my brother? I don’t know if Red would have recovered from that. And I…” he stops, chokes himself off, and hurt pangs through Lilith.

Edge, another casualty in Akkar’s crime, another left reeling and left to suffer as they all struggled to save Sans.

“Edge…you look tired. Why. Why don’t you come nap with us?” Lilith offers softly, needing to have them all near by and safe. Just for now.

Edge glances up, looking to the bed with a frown. He isn’t stupid, he _knows_ what they did, and Lilith gives him a grin, “I changed the sheets.” She reassured with a growing, softening smile, “And our clothes.”

The effect is near instant, and Edge relaxes, “Of course you did, you _do_ meet my impeccable standards.” He informed her with a blush, glancing down, and Lilith’s soul swells.

He crosses the last few steps to the bed before he sinks to the mattress next to Lilith. “Well, of course I do.” She tells him, a little smugly, and he rolls his eye lights at the unspoken _duh_.

There’s a moment, when they both just stare at each other, feeling soft and safe, safe in Red’s room. Safe behind the walls of the compound under Den and Crew protection, and Edge felt just as soft. Just as relaxed, and he doesn’t know if she reaches for him or he reaches for her, but they pull at each other in a soft, desperate kiss.

Its softer and slower then their first one, and the taste of death doesn’t cling to Lilith. Even Edge doesn’t taste as desperate, the fear is gone from them both, and their second kiss is something sweet and kind. Loving in a way that Edge doesn’t remember from any of his past partners.

Lilith deepens the kiss, if only briefly, her tongue licking into his mouth, lapping at his tongue to taste the hot spice of his magic, before she broke it. Edge doesn’t care, doesn’t feel jealous, and is just glad to hold her again. To have the chance to hold Sans, and to know they’re all going to live.

Resting his forehead against hers, they take that sweet moment, stollen a little longer before Lilith quietly says, “Edge, we need to sleep.” He nods against her head and sighs. He knows he should, knows nightmares wait for him on the other side, “We’ll talk about this,” and she gestures to the four of them, “In the morning.”

Edge nods in agreement, and he doubts that Lilith would allow him to suffer through nightmares on his own. He’s safe here, he reminds himself, and soon things will get better.

Lilith nods, and it takes very little urging to get Edge to settle in behind Sans, mirroring Lilith’s position with Red.

Sans sighs, curling into Red while pushing his hips back into Edge, but Lilith doesn’t mind as Red does the same. Reaching for Edge, she steals one of his hands, and curling her small, thin fingers between his sharp bones they both finally, _finally_ relax.

Sans and Red sigh softly between them, safe and sated. Whole at long last, curled between the two people who love them best.

And after over two weeks of pain and misery, they finally got the kindness, the love they sought, and Lilith and Edge finally _sleep_.


	47. Building Bridges / Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is slowly returning to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> So, no update last week, and for anyone who follows my Twitter knows that the last few weeks have been hard in my personal life and I needed a break. So last weeks update is this weeks update :) 
> 
> I hope you are all well, and thank you all for your continued support on this journey. No warnings in this chapter, as we wrap up Sans and Lilith's arc up here. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment and support <3

Sans claws his way back to consciousness slowly, floating in a safe haze of tenderness, and he doesn’t want to pull himself out of the dark swell of comfort just yet. Its warm where he was, safe, pressed between bodies and in a tangle of arms and legs.

A body, taller then his own but thinner then Lilith, shifted at his spine, and a long arm wrapped tightly around his ribs. The body that shifted around him caused a ripple effect, and the smaller body that he clung to, shifted as well, and a hand tightened at his elbow.

He felt Lilith wake up a bit, felt her mind stir from sleep to awake, shaking the cobwebs off as the last remnants of her dream fade away, and Sans is sure she was having a dream about them. A sun rise, and a kiss maybe, and it made a swell of love warm Sans’s soul.

_You awake love?_ Her mind pressed into his gently, her consciousness brushing at his, and he sighs into Red’s skull.

_Mmm? Almost?_ He yawned back at her, exhaustion still pulling him down and her swell of love and affection warms him like she was holding him. He leans into their bond, eased and loved as Lilith pressed into it, and Sans sighed.

_I love you Lilith_ he tells her suddenly, his own deep love swelling, washing over her like a gentle wave, and he feels her sigh softly next to him.

_I love you Sans_ she echoes back, and for a moment, they lay curled together, soft and in love. The Judge and his battle mage, their souls joined as one, and somehow, Sans thinks its poetic.

The feeling isn’t exactly gone, but a sudden flush of amusement comes from Lilith’s side of the bond, _By the way,_ she tells him casually, _Edge is holding you. It’s pretty adorable._

Sans goes stiff, his sockets snapping open, meeting Lilith’s bright crimson eyes and the amused twist of her mouth. There’s an arm wrapped around his rib cage, the bone thick and heavily scarred, and a crimson glove has started to fall down, bunching up at his elbow.

The body that’s pressed in at his spine is long and warm, and only now does Sans realize that there are razor sharp teeth nuzzling softly at the back of his throat, at the joint where his skull meets his neck. It’s soft and warm, gentle breath ghosting over the sensitive bones at his throat.

Lilith grins at Sans, cuddling into the back of Red’s skull, and Sans feels the hot blush creep up his throat and scalds his cheeks. She feels him internally screaming, his panic mixing with the soft affection, as Lilith nuzzles into Red’s neck.

Swallowing hard, Sans rolls over in Edge’s arms, shyly looking up at him, disturbing Edge’s relaxation, and the taller skeleton stills around him as soft white eye lights meet harsh crimson. It suddenly puts his mouth far too close to Edge’s, a breath away and he really hadn’t meant to put them so close to each other.

“He-hey.” He stutters, swallowing hard, and in the safety of their room, Lilith floods the bond with her deep amusement.

“Sans.” Edge husks, his deep voice, rough with timbre, and those big, warm hands are so gentle on his tired bones. It makes Sans swallow hard as Edge continues softly, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

It sends a shiver down Sans’s spine, and Lilith’s laugh in the bond is very unhelpful.

“Uh.” He muttered, his teeth brushing at Edge’s, “Thanks.” He mutters, burning up, unable to find the words to describe his feelings or the affection he had for the taller Fell brother.

Edge’s breath ghosts over his teeth, but neither make the move to kiss the other, despite Lilith’s quiet encouragement to do it, but Sans’s mind falters into an error 404 warning. It draws a warm smile from Edge, a relief that Sans was here with them and not dead, and it makes Sans’s soul _feel_ things. Feels warmth that makes him feel soft at his core.

Red huffs, “Make them kiss.” He mutters into Sans’s back, and Lilith muffles her laughter into Red’s shoulder, her muscular arms going around his thin body in a tight hug.

It breaks the weird tension between them, and Edge smiles despite how he rolls his eyes at Red, “Thank you brother.” He tells him dryly, and Sans doesn’t think he actually means that.

Red laughs, rough and low, before he rolled over to press into Lilith. She takes him easily enough, arms going tighter around his shoulders to draw him in, brushing a kiss along the side of his skull. Lilith tilted her head, pressing the side of her cheek into Red’s skull, and Sans can feel her grin, “Well love, I thought you _wanted_ to kiss Edge?” she asked lightly, pressing her mouth into Red’s throat, nuzzling in affectionately, “You were _very_ offended that you didn’t get to kiss Edge too.”

Sans’s _burns_ , and its not fair how sultry Lilith said that, and its so not fair that she and Red are uniting against him. Yet, he can’t look away from Edge’s laser focus or hot eye lights.

“Is that so?” Edge asks roughly, and Sans is sure he’s going to die under the intensity. His mouth goes dry as his sockets go wide, and his teeth clenched tight.

“Uh. I guess?” Sans told him quietly, sounding choked and it makes Red and Lilith chuckle.

“So elegant with words.” Red chuckles sarcastically into Lilith, but Sans can’t really hear them. He’s too focused on Edge’s mouth and the ghosting breath over his teeth.

Lilith mutters something that sounds amused, something like _Sans has other skills with his mouth,_ and it makes Red chuckle, but Sans’s can’t hear them. He can’t hear his bonded and his claimed mate being brats, not when Edge’s mouth presses into his own in a soft, gentle kiss.

Sans’s eye lights flash blue before his sockets sinks shut as Edge’s sharp mouth pressed into Sans’s in a soft, wet kiss. Sans’s teeth part, letting Edge lick into his mouth, pressing his warm tongue into Sans’s.

It makes Sans moan softly into Edge’s mouth, into their sweet warm kiss, and Sans reaches out to grasp at the front of his soft, black t-shirt. His thin, blunt fingers bunch at Edge’s t-shirt tightly, pulling him tighter, and he feels Lilith sigh into their bond, delighted by them.

The kiss is short lived, but sweet and it leaves Sans feeling a little breathless. Full of affection after days of pain, and his vice is blessedly quiet, locked firmly in the box Lilith had created in his mind. Leaving him breathing softly, sharing a breath with Edge in a startling intimate moment.

“Fates, you two are gross.” Red groused from behind them, because of course he had to ruin the moment, drawing that warm eye light from Sans to glower at him.

“Thank you, brother.” Edge spat with no heat in his voice, as he sat up, helping Sans ease up as well so he was sitting against the wall at the head of Red’s bed.

Red’s sitting up next to Lilith, his grin a sharp toothy smirk, knowing just how he disrupted their sweet moment, “Yer welcome.” He yawns, leaning into Lilith’s side, still looking tired and worn out. They could all do with more sleep, but they were awake already. It seemed like such a waste to sleep now.

Lilith rolls her eyes at him, exasperated, and freely showing emotion in the safety of their room, “Are you two going to be like this the whole time?”

“Likely.” Edge tells them mildly with a grin.

“Yep.” Red leaves no room for doubt, his sharky smirk telling them more then he could with words, just how much he was going to vex his brother.

Sans relaxes, leaning into Edge a little, resting his skull on the cusp of his shoulder, and offers Lilith a soft grin. She presses into their bond with affection, that Sans drinks like a man dying of thirst, clinging to her side of the bond as hard as he can.

Sans doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks as tired as Red does. Just as worn out and exhausted, but no one says anything about it. The guilt starts to creep in then, when he thinks about what he’s done to his family, but Lilith is quick to stomp that out from her side of the bond.

_It wasn’t your fault love._ She told him softly in his mind, brushing at his consciousness softly, _Please don’t feel guilty for something you had no control over._

Still, the guilt persists, and Sans knows he has so much to apologise for. To his brother and his father, to Ripper for almost crippling him, to everyone.

“So.” He starts, looking down, drawing frowns from the Fell brothers, “Okay. So look. I’m sorry that I.” he shrugs, “That I almost killed you all.”

He can feel their eyes on him, and when Edge’s hand lands lightly on his shoulder, he gives a little squeeze, “You have nothing to apologise for Sans.” Edge tells him roughly, and as Sans goes to protest, that he _does_ in fact, need to apologise, Edge cuts him off, “You had no control over yourself. Its no one’s fault.” There’s a flash of triumph from Lilith that makes Sans feel warm inside, “Do not blame yourself.”

Sans still can’t look at him and emotion chokes him. Lilith’s conscious brushes at his again, like she’s holding his hand as he nods, his voice a little thick, “Thanks Edge.”

The taller skeleton nods, and keeps his hand firmly at Sans’s shoulder, “Of course Sans.” He shivers how Edge says his name, he likes how it rolls off his tongue, and he feels the flush of soft affection from Lilith.

“So.” Red says quietly, drawing their attention back to him, and Sans sees how he neatly side steps saying those two little words. Couldn’t, maybe, not yet when things were too emotional, but that was okay.

Lilith and Sans got the meaning in his actions, and what he was saying when he couldn’t find the words. They’d work on that with him.

“Are we like, a thing now then?” Red asks them quietly, vaguely gesturing to the four of them, still not looking at any of them.

Lilith and Sans share a look, before looking to Edge. A hot blush scalds his face, and the thought of _adorable_ floats between Lilith and Sans, and he wonders what that blush would taste like.

“Well.” Lilith starts slowly, “If that’s what we all want? I mean. I thought that’s where we were...” she trails off with a shrug, clearing her throat, “I thought that’s where we were heading.”

Sans feels a prick of uncertainty in her soul, a sudden self doubt that maybe they _didn’t_ want this, and Sans is quick to speak up, “I want this.” He says quickly, his own skull heating up, but he forces himself to look up to the three of them to see their expressions of want and hesitation.

“I do as well.” Edge ventures hesitantly, “But how would this work? With. Us?” he gestures slowly to himself and Red, and Sans doesn’t doubt for a moment that they would both hurt themselves if it means that their brother was happy.

Lilith takes a breath, and Sans leans into the bond with encouragement, feeling a pulse of affection from her, “Well. Lots of mages are with siblings. The big thing is communication. If anyone is feeling left out or forgotten, you need to speak up, and not suffer quietly for the greater good.”

She gives Red a side eye’d look, one that he shrugs blandly at. “We would need to talk to each other, especially if we thought that we were being forgotten about or left out. Or if our feelings are hurt or we don’t like how something is going.”

She looks to each of them, offering a hesitant grin, “You both would keep your own rooms, I would think, to have your own space in case you wanted to be intimate with Sans or I.” she continued.

“Or both.” Sans chimed in, making Edge’s face go impossibly red, and it makes Sans smirk, “I mean. Lilith and I are joined at the soul, so you know. One on one or group activities are fine with us.” He nearly purrs when he feels Lilith’s interest and arousal through the bond, and he’s impressed how she keeps her expression a cool neutral.

She _likes_ the idea. She _liked_ what happened between them and Red.

She nods along with his words, “Exactly.” Lilith grins as Edge goes even redder and Red tucks his face into her side, “Our room.” She pauses, and grins, “When our room is fixed, could be neutral ground. The four of us can be together.”

“Kinda already is.” Sans agrees, thinking to the times they had hung out to watch movies or comforted each other.

Lilith nods, opening up a little more with a grin, “And I would say we could take this slow, but we sort of jumped a few steps.” Red snorts from her side, but doesn’t move, “So it would be taking it easy now, and talking it through.”

She gives Red a playful nudge in the ribs, and he relaxes at her side with a huff, “Yeah, yeah.” He tells them gruffly, “Talking, feely shit. Sure, I’m in.” its an off handed comment, but no one is stupid enough to not see that Red really wants this.

Edge nods, his large hand sliding down to Sans’s, taking it to squeeze gently, “I want this as well.” He says quietly, the thread of hope in his tone painful, and Sans wonders just how many people have hurt them? How deep did their scars run that Edge sounded like that, at the prospect that someone wanted him?

Sans is certain he’ll find out the truth, when they’re ready to share, more then he already knows, and he squeezes Edge’s hand.

For now, Sans gives them both a bright grin and leans into the soft feelings of the bond with Lilith. It won’t always be easy, he knows, but for now, he can be happy.

For now, he can have this soft, loving moment before he and Lilith start to plan how they’re going to mark their other unclaimed boyfriend.

-

Sipping on his coffee, Red glances around the table, feeling surprisingly smug at Lilith’s left side, their legs brushing against each other, playing footsies under the table like a couple of stupid teenagers. Edge is on her far right, a space between himself and Lilith, San’s space.

The dining room is relaxed, _calm_ at long last, a missing piece of their family has finally been returned with Sans coming back to himself, and already there is a noticeable difference in the atmosphere. Everyone seems happier, calmer, even if its louder as Felix and Undyne laugh loudly.

It’s a return to normal, their normal, and Toriel should be dropping the girls off later that morning, and they would all be home. Something eases in Red’s soul, to know the kids were coming home, the last and most vulnerable members of their family where coming home, and maybe it was relief that was swelling in his soul. Maybe worry, that Mercy had been gone for so long, was finally eased, and Red felt better to know they were coming home.

He sips his coffee, smirking knowingly to Wine, who shakes his skull at him with amusement, his crimson eye lights flashing to Lilith with a sort of deep, delighted amusement. It seemed everyone _knew_ about their coupling in the forest and in his room, and the general consensus seemed to be _well done_.

Lilith’s foot hooked around his ankle, and when he glanced up, she was grinning down at him, smirking and knowing, and so, so warm. It gentled something in Red’s soul, warmed him as he grinned back at her, and knew that they were a _thing_ now.

His _girl._

Red takes a mouthful of his coffee, the smell of pancakes heavy and comforting in the dining room as Lola and Glass make breakfast. Red can hear Lola’s high laughter, happy and amused by whatever Glass is telling her, and it makes something shift in Red’s soul. Something _happy_ , that his teammate is happy.

Another thing that has changed for the better, changed back to the time before Sans and Lilith nearly died. Back to when they were all happy.

Leaning in at the table, with his elbows propped up on the wood, Red tilts his head towards his mate, his sharp toothed grin wide, “How’s our boy doing?”

Lilith’s grin softens at him before she looks up and left, leaning into their bond to feel how Sans was doing, his emotional status was holding as he apologised to Papyrus and Gaster.

“He’s worried.” Lilith tells him, pressing reassurance to Sans through their bond, “He thinks they won’t forgive him.”

Red snorts and rolls his eye lights, as if they wouldn’t. He glances to Ryder, and the big mage has his eyes on the dining room door jam, hyper focused as he waited for his mate to return. Unlike Lilith, he isn’t getting the play by play, but Red doesn’t doubt it’ll be fine.

He’d seen the way Papyrus loved his bro, Red doesn’t doubt that once Sansy stutters through his apology, it’ll be fine.

Lilith grins suddenly, and her shoulders loosen, “They’re hugging it out.” She told him, and Red doesn’t need Lilith to tell him that Sans is happy.

It helps Red relax, even before they come back to the kitchen, knowing that things were getting back to normal, and their peaceful existence was returning. Bit by bit after so long with everything hurting, everything was going to be okay.

They come back into the dining room, Papyrus full of his usual exuberance and life, lighting up the room in a way that only Paps could as he bound over to Ryder. He threw himself at the large mage, pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth that had Felix whistling at him, and Ryder going bright red.

Gaster is wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, giving his son’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he found his usual spot at the table. More pieces of their puzzle coming together, and Red relaxes.

Sans looks over to them, flashes Red and Lilith a smile that makes Red’s soul throb and Lilith grin. He flushes, turning that grin on Edge for the same result before Sans takes a breath and turns for the other side of the table.

He stops next to Ripper, drawing his attention with the tilt of his head, and Sans takes another breath, “Rips. I’m sorry.”

Ripper blinks at Sans before his grin goes wide, “We’re cool. No harm no foul.” He flapped his hand as if to shoo Sans away, making Red raise a brow at the sudden distress on Sans’s face.

“Yeah, but.” Sans tries again, earning a head shake from Ripper.

“Sans. No. Its’ fine. We’ve all been there.” His head tilts and his pitch-black eye lights glance to Lilith, “I stabbed your fucking girl friend in the guts,” he reminds them, earning a snort from Lilith, “And Lilith literally doesn’t hate me. So, don’t make this fucking weird.”

Sans blinks at him, and slowly nods, but doesn’t move from his spot beside Ripper. Ripper doesn’t look away, like he’s daring Sans to apologise again so he can punch Sans if he needs to. Taking a steadying breath, Sans watches as Ripper drops his chin to his fist, looking for the world amused.

Lilith snorts, and Red knows Sans is about to say some bullshit, “Well. Thank you then.” That makes Ripper frown as Sans continues, “For not letting me hurt anyone else.”

Ripper blinks at him, a smile slow to grow over his mouth before he gave Sans a one-handed finger gun, “I got’ch you. You ever need someone to kick your ass, just give me a call.”

They all know what really happened, that Sans nearly crippled Ripper and he’s still wearing the brace Lola got for him, but its another step towards normalcy that helps calm everyone. It builds the bridge between Sans and Ripper and remind them that everything’s okay.

Sans grins at him, “You’re so good Rips.” Sans tells him dryly, “That you could kick your own ass.”

It makes Ripper laugh, before going back to his conversation with Nightmare, “Fucking multiverse joke.” Ripper snickers, thoroughly delighted.

Sans gives him a grin and his own finger guns as he makes his way around the table to sit between Edge and Lilith, and Red settles. Its going to be a peaceful day, a nice day, after all the bull shit, and everything is starting to just, _ease_.

Everyone seems happier, more like themselves, and Red dares to reach out to Lilith’s hand to hook his pinky into hers as Sans leans into Edge a little. It draws her attention, her smile soft, and it’s a big deal for Red to touch her like this out in the open. This was a declaration of sorts for him, and when she smiles, he feels warm inside. Happy, like this is where he was meant to be.

Things were getting back too normal.

“So.” Ripper says suddenly from his side of the table, where he’s sitting between Nightmare and Gore, his chin in his hand and his smile as sharp as any of his knives, “Anyone wanna talk about those bite marks that are currently ringing Red’s collar bones?” its lightly said, so conversationally that it could have been mistaken for talking about the weather.

Ripper, the asshole, was grinning brightly at Red as Sloan chokes on her coffee from Nightmare’s other side as Red levels a dirty look at Ripper’s smirking expression. Red doesn’t dare break his gaze with Ripper, wouldn’t dare show his throat, but he can _feel_ the smug satisfaction from Lilith and Sans.

Sin leans forward from beside Sloan, pressing both elbows into the table, his grin wide and amused. Red is glad to see it on him, even if this is going to be at Red’s expense. Sin’s time in his home world had given him a beating and a half, and he was still feeling the effects of what they did to him. Likely would for a long time too, so to see his easy going smile on his pretty face made something ease in Red’s soul.

“Rips is right.” He tells them lowly, drawing a grin from Felix, “You got some nice bite marks there Red.” His head tilts, and Red can feel heat crawling up his face, “And, I’ve sparred with Gore enough to know what Sans’s bite radius looks like.”

Sans goes impossibly blue with a deep blush, and Lilith shakes her head, still looking deeply proud of what she had done to Red, “Why do you bite during a sparring match?” she asked Gore, drawing a shrug from him.

Crow looks up from his tea, his respirator sitting on the table while he eats, grinning widely at Lilith, “He has. He has an oral fixation.” He tilts his head back a little, and along the thin column of his throat, there is a light bite mark, clearly healing along his vertebrae.

It makes Lilith grin at him as she leans across the table to give him a little fist bump, her knuckles brushing along his, even as Gore goes red.

They’re ignored by Sin and Ripper, who are grinning widely at Red, despite how he glowers at them both.

Sin points to Red’s collar bone, grinning widely, “But that one. That one isn’t from Sans.”

Red sighs as yellow eye lights glance to Lilith’s grinning face. She’s so full of smug pride, that the embarrassment that tries to choke Red off is smothered. Lilith and Sans aren’t ashamed of him, and had made that damned well clear who he belonged to.

He needed to talk with his bro about getting them into collars. Make sure everyone knew who _they_ belonged to. The idea made his mouth water, even as the others got their giggles in.

Felix leans in too, squinting at the bite mark that Lilith gave him, frowning at it before he looked up at his sister, “You’re selfish.” He told her plainly, his grin growing.

Lilith blinked, “How am I selfish?” she demanded, raising a brow to her brother.

Felix’s grin is slow to grow, and Red knows a little brother who’s about to be an ass when he sees one, and he relaxes, “You have two boyfriends. How are you not selfish?”

Lilith blinks at him, “No I don’t.” Felix’s grin drops and he tilts his head in confusion, “I have three boyfriends. That makes me super selfish.”

Felix sputters, and Red relaxes as the battle mages devolve into childish arguing about how unfair it was that Lilith had three boyfriends, and it was selfish.

Red grinned, relaxing in his seat, knowing it was all in good fun, and when Wine said that, if Felix was lonely, that could be easily remedied, it had made Felix blush. It had made Felix go so red that even the skin under the buzzed portion of his scalp, warmed with colour and Lilith laughed.

Coffee’s long sleeved t-shirts message became garbled letters as he hid himself in his hood, drawing a wide, toothy smile from Wine.

It was…nice. It was _good_ to have everyone back together, and Red doesn’t feel so vulnerable to take Lilith’s hand at the breakfast table. Fuck it, it wasn’t like they didn’t all already know.

Not when they had left their mark all over his body, so easily seen by their family.

It was good. It was nice.

It just felt right, and Red is delighted to be home. He isn’t sure when this had become home, when Lilith and Sans had become home, but Red isn’t going to look too closely at when that happened.

No one even blinks when the sound of a portal being torn open through the space time continuum rings in the space around them, and Error walks smoothly through, like he had daily since his heart to heart with Lilith. Casual as ever, like he had a right to be there, and at ease among even the mages and monsters here. He’d been coming by daily, to harass Nightmare and give his report on the multiverses status and to check in on how Lilith was managing.

Red didn’t get their weird friendship, but fuck it, it wasn’t like Red had normal friends either.

There’s a tense moment, and Red can see it in Sans, see him tensing up, before his brother does, but Lilith grabs his elbow as he goes stiff and his eye flashes blue. The box that contains his vice holds strong, the mental walls that Lilith had built in his head don’t even waiver, but she still holds his arm down.

She doesn’t look up or seemed worried, nonchalantly drinking her coffee, “Hey E.” she calls out to him casually, and much to Red’s amusement, Sans’s skull whips around to stare at her in opened mouth shock the same time Error rolls his eye lights at her.

He slips behind them, Sans still tracking him with his eye lights, glaring hard, but Error doesn’t seem to be bothered by him, “WhY MuSt yOu cAlL Me ThAt?”

Lilith shrugs, unconcerned by his presents, “I think its cute.” She tells him casually as ever, making his eye lights roll again, handing a black folder with a skull and cross bone to Nightmare.

“ReApEr sAyS hE’s StIlL tRyiNg tO fIgUrE oUt hOw ChArA iS sIpHoNiNg MaGiC, bUt tHeSe aRe tHe wOrLdS tHaT cOlLaPsEd YeStErDaY. AlL wEak WiTh LiTtLe MaGiCaL oUtpUt. We CaN’t SaY fOr SuRe iF sHe hAd AnYtHiNg tO dO wItH tHeM, tHeY wErE wEaK eNoUgH tO cOlLaPsE oN tHeIr OwN.” He tells Nightmare, choosing to ignore Lilith and Sans’s angry cat act.

Red lets his chin fall to his fist, delighted and amused.

Nightmare nods, opening the folder, his azure eye flicking over it as he took in the information, “If this is her, there’s no rhyme or reason.” He says slowly, “Genocide worlds or mercy worlds. If this is her, she doesn’t care.”

Error shrugs, “DoEsN’T sEeM tO.” He agrees, glances to Sans and grins, shifting his conversation back to Lilith and Sans, “GlAd To SeE yOuR nOt DeAd. GoOd FoR yOu.” 

Sans cringes back, glaring hard, “What?” his voice hissed out in an angry breath, eye light still flickering yellow and blue.

Lilith grinned, “He’s okay.” She agreed, drawing Sans’s angry expression to her mild grin, “You staying for breakfast E?”

The sly grin was wiped off Error’s expression, and he cringed as he looked around the crowded room “UhHh?”

“I was being facetious Error.” She told him flatly, earning another slow blink from him, “Its rude not to eat when you’ve been offered food from a mage. Sit down.”

Rolling his eyes, Error makes a huffy noise, but does as he’s told, dropping, almost moodily into a seat next to Gaster, “FiNe.” He pouts, but doesn’t complain too hard when Gaster passes him a cup of coffee, that was more milk and sugar then actual coffee.

Much to Red’s chagrin, Sans just stares hard, “Okay, since when are you two fucking friends?”

Lilith blinks at him, “He replaced my mug.” She told her bonded, as if that were a reason to forgive someone for stripping away your will, her head tilting towards the glossy black mug that proudly declared _Meh_.

Sans blinked at her, brow furrowing, “Lilith.” He’s unusually serious, “He tried to kill you.”

Lilith frowned at him, but kept a hold of Sans’s shirt, “Love?” she sounded exasperated, “Really?”

“Oh!” Felix said brightly from the other end of the table, suddenly veering out of his conversation with Wine to grin brightly at them, “Are we doing Lilith’s greatest hits! I’ll start. I almost killed her when we first met on the battlefield before we realized we were Den mates.”

The table all stares at Felix and his bright smile for a beat, not understanding what he was getting at before Nightmare chimes in, with his rough, monotone voice, “I broke her spine when I threw her at a pillar.”

“To be fair.” Edge added in gruffly, but with a smile, “You didn’t aim for the pillar, you just threw her.”

Nightmare shrugs with a smirk as Ripper pipes up, “Oh! I stabbed her!”

“Same.” Undyne agreed from the other end of the table, scratching at her throat where she had once speared Lilith like a fish, “She’s surprisingly difficult to kill.” 

Lilith nodded in agreement, smirking at Sans, “Yes I am.”

“Brother.” Papyrus added dryly by Ryder’s side with a frown, “You eviscerated her the first night Lilith and Frisk spent the night.”

Sans winced at the truth of it, and they really hadn’t made their way around the table before Lilith comes to save him, “Point is love. All my best friends have tried to kill me a time or two.”

Twisting up to give her a look of concern, Sans frowns up at her, glancing to Error with a quick, short look before his eye lights snap back to her, “Yeah but. It’s _Error_. He…” Sans trails off, glancing to Red’s amused expression, then to Nightmare, who is arguably more dangerous then Error, before he heaves a sigh and slumps.

“Yeah, alright.” Sans sighs, rolling over faster then Red figured he would have, guessed that Lilith’s presence was calming enough that he cooled his heels in the face of someone who had done harm. Still, Red thought it was _hilarious_ in the face of all the shit Lilith had been through, and how many of her best friends had tried to kill her at some point or another.

Lilith grins at him, leaning forward to brush a kiss to the side of Sans’s skull, and that helps him ease at the kitchen table. He sighs, like a brat, like he was put out by Lilith’s weird friendship with Error, “Its not like most of you haven’t tried to kill me at some point or another.” She shrugs, telling him mildly.

Sans makes a noise of displeasure, and Nightmare can’t help but feed from it, making him grin, “Sans.” He lightly scolds, raising a brow, “Surely, you’ve noticed your mate’s habit of collecting dangerous friends that have tried to kill her at least once.”

Looking down, Sans flushes, “Well, yeah. But,” he shrugs and sighs, “Okay, yeah that’s fair.”

Nightmare snorts, and Lilith shakes her head at him, brushing another kiss to his skull, “Fates, your cute.”

It makes Sans flush harder, and Red can’t help but agree. Sans is cute.

The awkward moment is broken when Lola comes into the room with a platter of breakfast food, warm and fresh, Glass at her heels, greeting Error just as warmly as ever.

Red settles, as the others help ease breakfast to the table, and for the first time in days, life feels better and things are getting back to normal.

Red’s soul settles, and he _relaxes._

-

Looking up from reviewing the report that Error gave him, the glitch next to him enjoying the rare moment of quiet and the hot sun over head, lessened by the shade of the tree they were under and Red catches Nightmare’s eye. He blinks, skull tilting as he watches Red for a moment, something easing in his feeling soul, and some of the tension eases from his shoulders.

Red’s sound asleep, for the first time in days, and Nightmare is glad to see it. He needs the rest, just as badly effected by the whole thing with the elf as the others. Now, he’s laying heavily on Sans, his skull nestled into San’s lap while both of them are letting Sloan’s words wash over them.

They’re all outside, enjoying the hot morning sun after a delightfully normal breakfast. Normally, this time of the day most of the Den and Crew have been shooed out the door, and, much to their dismay, away from Sans and Lilith to care for the territory.

It seemed everyone wanted to stick close by, and Nightmare didn’t blame them after everything that went down, but the mages had responsibilities and all that. Everyone seemed willing and able to pick up the slack while Lilith was down, even if they didn’t like the actual _leaving_ part.

At least, Nightmare figured, the kids over in the centre of their territory, the Trillium Moon, were picking up the slack, taking orders from Undyne no different then the mages. They were doing it good too, Nadia checked in twice a day with Sloan and Undyne, giving status updates on how that end of the territory was managing and keeping everyone in line.

Felix was the worse for it, rushing to do his assignments each day so he could come home to support Lilith, and more then once Wine had slowed him down to ensure they weren’t skipping important steps. It had been especially true when Sans started to spiral downward, but Felix seemed far more chipper this morning, and Nightmare figured it was because no one had died and everyone was staying home. A day to stay close, like the tightly knit family they were, and just be together for a day.

Now, things were peaceful, a delightful contrast to the horror of the last fortnight. Things were already on the mend, contractors had been called to start to fix Lilith and Sans room, and, much to her annoyance, Lilith had been ordered by Lola herself to rest a few more days. Tomorrow, everyone goes back to the territories needs, but today, they get to spend the day together.

Still, Nightmare can see Lilith is antsy, can see the way she’s moving and the trip wire tenseness in her shoulders as she moves. He glances to where Lilith is training with Felix, Edge, and Sin, his soul swelling with love to see his mate smiling and laughing. It does _things_ to him to see his mate so happy, so at ease, at long last, and Sin deserves every bit of happiness. He pauses, just for a moment, to watch Sin dance around Edge’s attack with a laugh and feels a swell of softness for his lover.

Something he thought he was never allowed to have, and his body softens into a relaxed slump to watch Sin’s graceful movements. To hear him laugh softly, and to see that cheeky grin spread wide when he suddenly dips under Edge’s attack and flips him with ease.

It sends an unfair bolt of arousal to his pelvis and his soul pulses with a want he quickly shoves down. This was hardly the time or the place, and he can only hope Error can’t see the heat that scalds his face. Still, the soft love remains, and he clings to that, holds onto the fact that he _loves_ Sin with all his dark little soul.

A soul, that Sin found to be perfect for him.

They’re laughing, oddly having fun when they’re sparring, the four of them dancing around each other. Even from where he’s sitting, Nightmare can see them pulling their punches, not even trying all that hard.

They aren’t even breaking a sweat, but that’s not the point, Nightmare figures. Under the shade of the tree out in the front yard, Error shifts, watching them spar and laugh, his own head tilting, “WeIrD CrEaTuRes. ArEn’T tHeY?”

Nightmare snorts, glancing around the yard, spotting Undyne, Wine and Coffee stretching while they watched the others sparring. He knows that Glass and Lola are in the kitchen, baking for Sugar and Gore. Making Crow and Gaster laugh no doubt, and Papyrus had dragged Ryder upstairs for some alone time.

They deserved it, Nightmare thought, “You’ve no idea.” He tells Error with a smirk and relaxes further.

His azure eye light travels back to Red, who’s skull has settled safely in Sans’s lap, safe enough to sleep even outside, trusting them all to safeguard his back while he was vulnerable. Sleeping more soundly outside in the mage’s world then he ever did in his own bed in Underfell.

Sans sits crossed legged on a soft grey blanket across from Sloan, and Nightmare’s oddly sensitive soul swell with love for her as well. She’s perfect, he thinks, in her yellow sundress, the sun glistening in her curly hair like a radiant goddess, and Nightmare still can’t believe she allows him to touch her. She’s beautiful and smart, and her kindness still blows him away. Her strength too has him in awe, and Nightmare can still remember the feeling of reassurance he had when she came for him, when he was locked in a hospital and tortured.

Nightmare loves Sloan just as much as Sin, and he knows he would do anything for her. 

He huffs a sigh, and tries to hide the feeling before Error catches him, and part of him wonders if he’s already been caught based on his wide grin. Going back to watching his mate, Nightmare sees that she has Sans’s hands in hers, as she guides him through a breathing exercise.

Nightmare himself doesn’t get it, he figures its just a matter of breathing in and out, and be done with it, but what the fuck does he know?

Sloan says it’s a step to controlling his vice, so, fuck it. If it helps keeps Sans under control, let her teach him to breathe.

Nightmare’s azure eye light glances to her other side, the side opposite from where Red was asleep, to where Ripper lay napping next to Sloan. His t-shirt riding up a little to show off the flash of silver of his brace, and Nightmare feels a flair of concern as Ripper lays on his back, his arms tucked beneath his skull as he sleeps next to Sloan.

They had come so close to losing him as well, too close, and the fact makes Nightmare’s soul twist. It makes him feel like his heart bottomed out, and it made him heart sick to know just how close they really came. Close enough that they had all agreed not to tell Sans, that Ripper had been a step or two away from dusting after Sans’s brutal elbow to his spine.

He didn’t blame Sans, no, of course not, not at all. Not even a little bit.

Nightmare blamed the fucker who tried to kill them, and it was a cold, bitter comfort to know Lilith had taken him down with her. Not that, that would have made it any better if Sans had killed Ripper, and Nightmare isn’t sure how to express how grateful he was that Sloan was helping take care of him.

Ripper had been his right hand for so long, always there, the one constant in his long life, always there even during the times Nightmare had lost himself to the darkness of his soul. The thought of losing him had made Nightmare heart sick, grief had choked him when Sloan had held Ripper’s hand and pet his skull while Lola had desperately tried to save his spine.

Ripper had been out of his mind with pain, his sole fluctuating wildly while upstairs Sans succumbed to madness, and Nightmare had been so sure they were going to lose them both. It had been bad, after he had taken the blow to his spine, full of Sans’s violent intent, that Ripper had writhed on the kitchen table in agony, crying out for Nightmare.

He’d been helpless but to take Ripper’s other hand, held it tightly while Sloan held his other, Sin at his skull, cushioning it against the harsh wood while Lola poured everything she had into saving him. Into saving his spine, so that maybe he would walk again.

He’d cried as well, so out of it, his pitch-black eye lights guttered out to leave his sockets oddly dark, like they had been when Nightmare had first met him. They were dark and empty of emotion as Ripper tried, and failed, to protect himself. Sloan had, like she always did, seemed to know what to do, and gently wiped away his tears, whispering that he was okay. Ripper was safe, that she and Nightmare and Sin were there with him. He wasn’t alone, and to just keep breathing, her voice soft and comforting as she pet his skull with the backs of her fingers.

Lola may have saved his life and his ability to walk, but it had been Sloan that had held Ripper’s sanity together, and Nightmare isn’t sure he can ever express just how grateful he was to her. That she had helped them pull Ripper through that, without lasting damage.

Ripper, for all his sarcasm and independence, clung to that as well, and hadn’t ventured far from the three of them once Lola had cleared him from the infirmary. The brace that Dom had made on the fly, after a desperate call from Sloan, helped to. Supported Ripper to sit up straight while his spine healed, but it was flexible enough to move with him, like a second skin, another brilliant design by the battle mage and he had worked overtime to get it to them.

Another kindness that Nightmare hadn’t expected to be bestowed upon them by another mage, one that Sloan trusted with not just her life but the life of her Den mate.

Taking a breath, Nightmare looks back to the report, his soul swelling at the thought, that his lovers had put in such effort to save Ripper, and now he was alive and with them. Resting peacefully in the hot summer sun next to Sloan, and something slotted properly into place. Like something he didn’t know had been missing was back, confusing Nightmare all the more.

Ripper, for as funny as he was, no matter how well he seemed to fit in with them, already had a fling with the little Star Sans, Outer, going on. His not-so-secret lack of a discretion, that they were all supposed to pretend Ripper didn’t have. Still, Nightmare was under no illusion what Ripper was.

Ripper had the ability to mimic emotions, but couldn’t feel. Felt less then Nightmare could even before the shard had been embedded in his soul. Ripper’s soul was too broken, shattered beyond repair to ever be able to feel again, and even before coming here, Nightmare had never felt anything but numbness from him.

Pleasure, sure, Ripper could feel, and if fucking the Star Sans had brought him a measure of comfort, Nightmare wouldn’t deny him that.

He also wouldn’t be foolish enough to attempt to subject his very feeling lovers to such a mimic.

Still, it brings him a measure of comfort that Sloan is kind to Ripper. He glances over again, watching Ripper sleep for a moment, utterly soft in rest, watches him roll over onto his side, still asleep, pressing his skull into Sloan’s thigh.

Sloan smiles as she guides Sans through his breathing exercise, glancing to Ripper fondly, he’s gentle in sleep, tucking his arm under his skull. He’s breathing softly, and Nightmare buries any soft feeling for Ripper ruthlessly.

“i DiDn’T kNoW yOu tOoK a fOuRtH.” Error told him mildly, pulling out a set of knitting needles from his inventory, working on a black scarf. A tell-tale sign that Error was comfortable here, if he was willing to knit.

Nightmare’s shoulders tensed, and his skull whipped around to Error so quickly that his neck popped painfully, “I haven’t.” he spat.

Error paused, his brows furrowing as his mismatched eye lights glanced to Ripper sleeping softly next to Sloan, then back to Nightmare, “YoU SuRe?”

“Yes I’m sure!” he spat back, his shoulders bunching up around his skull, making Error roll his eye lights.

“If YoU sAy So.” Error muttered, settled back against the tree at their backs, and the soft _tic, tic, tic_ of the needles filled the gentle silence between them.

Nightmare glowers at him and his amused grin, before he turns back to the report, “I hate you.” He told Error blandly, making Error snort.

“No YoU dOn’T.” Error snapped back, and it makes Nightmare smirk, the gentle calmness settled between them again, and it was like the nights at the castle. The late nights when it was just the two of them, after hard battles with the Stars, and they laughed about the fight.

The times have changed, but Nightmare’s delighted to have his…friend back.

The sound of a car pulling up draws everyone’s eyes, and Nightmare is saved from his oddly soft feelings, and he’s going to blame this softness on Lilith and Sans for nearly dying. It’s made him all sentimental and shit, and this is clearly their fault.

A large black SUV pulls up, and its barely stopped before the side door is flung open, and Frisk’s little feet hit the ground. She runs as hard as she can, a smile spread wide across her face, and Nightmare winces a little at the sheer amount of pleasure and joy the single little girl could produce.

Lilith tenses, her eyes gleaming crimson, and Nightmare thinks she might just cry when she drops to her knees like a puppet who’s strings have been cut. She hits the ground hard, her knees jarring as her arms open, her face oddly soft as Frisk throws herself at her older sister.

Lilith pulls her in hard, muscular arms going around her sister in a tight hug, and Frisk lets out a small, wet sob. Its an odd mix of pure delight and pain, and that single noise seems to represent this painful time in their lives. Yet, the girls are home, like a breath of fresh air and Nightmare is _glad_ to have them home.

The last little pieces in their world have come home, and Nightmare breathes a soft sigh of relief.

The others laugh as Mercy makes a beeline for Edge, tears in her eyes as she runs for him, laughing as he scoops her up into a hug. Hope is behind her, dropping her bag as she ran for her guardians, her voice a breathless sob as she yells out _dad_ , throwing herself at Felix.

He catches her easily enough, freezing at the word she had just so smoothly threw at him, as if that wasn’t a direct hit to his emotions, before his expression does something complicated as his knees give out from under him. He hit the ground hard, his knees jarring into the packed earth, and Nightmare bites back a grin when he sees Felix’s gold eyes water.

He looks to Wine as he makes his way over, his sharp toothed mouth pulled into a wide grin, to see the emotion in Felix’s expression, “Babe, did you hear what she called me?”

“I did love.” Wine agreed, nuzzling into Felix’s head, pressing an affectionate kiss to Hope’s hair as she clings to Felix.

“Babe, she called me dad.” Felix tells him, stunned and in awe, tears swimming in his eyes that he refuses to let fall, making Wine laugh, nuzzling into Felix again.

Hope wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, the nine-year-old still sobbing, barely able to get the words out as she reaches out for Wine, sobbing out a garbled _dad,_ as well to him, clinging to him as tightly as she could.

Wine pats her back, warmly, taking her as best he could from Felix, struggling a bit with her height. Felix grins at them, not bothering to hide himself wiping his eye with the back of his hand, steadying Wine. He laughs a little, Hope already the same height as Wine at nine, and he struggles with her clinging to him tightly.

Still, with Felix holding him up, Wine clings back just as hard, and Felix doesn’t miss how Wine quickly puts himself between Hope and Toriel when she gets out of their SUV. Felix’s expression quickly closes off when he spots the two large monsters, shifting his own body to be between them and Wine. His arms go around the two of them tightly, his back to Toriel, but he half turns to glower coldly at them, guarding his mate’s reunion with their kid.

Coffee joins them, curling into his brother’s side so Hope can cling to him as well, hidden by Felix’s muscular body. He’s carefully positioned himself to protect his family from any threat.

Nightmare relaxes. It’s a defensive position, but not an overtly aggressive one, and it helps ease Nightmare down and his tentacles remain smooth at his back.

Movement in his peripheral draws Nightmare’s attention as Sloan and Sans take a break from their exercise. Grinning, Sans tucks his hoodie under Red’s skull while Sloan tucked their soft blanket over Ripper, so they could go get their chance to snuggle with the girls. They all seemed happy to be passed from one mage or monster to another, even Hope after she was done with clinging to Wine and Felix, each getting the chance to get snuggled.

Nightmare keeps his distance, Error watching wearily next to him, and he glances to the car, as the former _King_ gets out of the SUV. Error’s head tilts as his sockets narrowed on Asgore, and he tucks his knitting back into his inventory as a tension twists through the destroyer and the deity.

“hE WeLcOmE HeRe?” Error asks mildly, reaching to his socket to pull a web of wires to his fingers, just in case.

Nightmare sneers, pushing himself to his feet, tentacles sharpening at his back and his mouth pulls back, preparing to turn into a snarling mouth of teeth, “Nope.”

Error makes a disgruntled noise, sockets narrowing on the two larger monsters and their nervous expressions as he pulls himself up. Like a spider creating a web, more cables twine in his fingers, and he narrows his sockets.

The mages aren’t entirely unaware, even with the girls return, and everyone is giving them a hesitant side eye as they seem to wait for something. Sans especially, Nightmare notices immediately, is tense even as Frisk throws herself at him for a tight hug.

His eye lights are hot on Asgore, even when the larger monster gives him a pleasant, mild grin, his hands stuffed into his pockets in an attempt to appear casual.

It sets something in Nightmare on edge, and he can feel the hesitation, the anticipation from Asgore. The weird mix of dread and dark glee. It was a feeling Nightmare was intimate with, that dark joy one had when they were going to enjoy ruining something. It’s a feeling he knew well, and what ever was about to happen, he _wanted_ it to.

“Error.” Nightmare says his name slowly as Frisk signs something to Sloan that he didn’t catch, too focused on Asgore and his _something_ brewing, “If a fight starts, I need you to drive them back from the girls. Don’t worry about the mages, they can take care of themselves, just push them back from the children.”

Error hums an agreement, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt for a moment that he would do what was asked of him. He would drive the two larger monsters back, giving space for either himself or one of the battle mages to deal with the threat.

“cAn I tHrOw a CaR aT tHem?” Error asks mildly, rubbing his thumb against the pads of his fingers, catching wires.

Nightmare shrugs, uncaring as Sloan takes Frisk’s hand, leading her to Nightmare and Error, “Just make sure it’s their SUV. No need to make the mages purchase new Jeeps.”

Error huffs a little, dark laugh, his eye lights sharp as he watches the two boss monsters, “iF yOu iNsIst.” He grins, “BuT i ReMeMbEr A tImE wHeN yOu WoUlD hAvE lEt mE wReCk tHe HoUse.”

Nightmare rolls his eye light, “Yes, yes. I’m going soft, I’ve been told.” He sighs out, and it makes Error laugh again. 

He only tares his eye light away, watching as Sin moves in to give Mercy a hug, a soft smile on his face, and it warms Nightmare’s soul to see it, when he looks to Sloan and Frisk.

He feels the tension wind through Error the moment they get in close, and even as he keeps his sockets on the two larger monsters, he side steps behind Nightmare as Sloan brings Frisk up to them.

Nightmare offers her a sharp grin, one that she echoes back at him, glancing to Red and Ripper, before she looks back to Nightmare. She’s just as nervous of having Asgore and Toriel here as well, but hides it better then the battle mages.

“Frisk wanted to come see you too.” Sloan explained smoothly, glancing to Error briefly, “But she was worried Error would be distraught if she wandered over on her own.”

Nightmare gives him a look, earning an unrepenting shrug that makes Nightmare roll his eye light, “I’m sure it’s fine.” He tells them easily, “I’m sure we can behave.” He says to Error, who gives another nonchalant shrug.

Then to Frisk, “And we will keep our hands to ourselves?” His head tilts at the question to the girl, and Frisk lights up with a grin as she nods.

She lets go of Sloan’s hand to slowly sign to them, “ _I will Nights.”_

Error snorts behind him at his given nickname, and Nightmare purposely ignores him, but it makes Frisk giggle as she wipes her eye with the back of her hand. Her smile broad and beaming, her sheer positivity makes him wince a little, but he stays in place when Frisk signs to them, “ _I’m sorry I touched you Error. I didn’t mean to.”_

He drops his sockets, frowning, “iT’s FiNe.” He shrugs, “WhAt EvEr, It DiDn’T mAtTeR.”

Nightmare rolls his eye light, because it was a big deal and had put Error in a vulnerable position. It had only been by the grace of the angel that Lilith had taken him under her wing rather then hurt him. Another thing Nightmare is grateful for now.

Frisk smiles, bouncing on her toes as she nods, her hands moving a little quicker, “ _It did matter. I’m sorry Error.”_

The glitch shrugs, and Frisk turns her beaming smile to Nightmare, “ _Nightmare, can I give you a hug?”_ She glances to Sloan, her crooked grin bright and mischievous, “ _Sloan says I’m not allowed to hug you without asking.”_

Glancing up to his mate, Sloan gives him a pretty smile, a patient one, and Nightmare could have fucking kissed her for her foresight. His broken soul pulsed happily, with affection and love for his mate, and he gives her a crooked grin, before he looks to Frisk, “I suppose.” He told her slowly, “This once. Since it’s a special occasion.”

Frisk beams at him, but it’s the soft look that Sloan gives him that makes his inner self feel gooey and soft at just that smile alone. He opens his arms to Frisk, and with her raspy little laugh, she throws herself at his chest.

He grunts when she hits his torso, not seemingly bothered by his naturally cold body, throwing her arms around his chest in a tight hug. She’s unusually warm against him, like Sloan is, and he guesses that has to do with them being human.

He awkwardly wraps his own arms around her, giving her a pat on the back, and frowns when he realizes that Frisk is nearly as tall as he is, “Did you grow?” he asked her suddenly, frowning as Frisk pulled away with a confused look.

She tilts her head in confusion and shakes her head no as her little mouth tipping down into a frown.

Sloan laughs suddenly, drawing both of their gazes, “Love?” she addresses Nightmare gently, “Hun, the girls have always been nearly as tall as you.”

He blinks at her, sounding scandalized, “She’s nine.” His rough voice takes a higher pitch in shock.

Sloan blinks back at him, her voice softening, “Nightmare. Hun. My moon. Your four feet, four inches.”

He blinks at her with a frown, “What?” as Error laughs at him from behind.

“ShE’s SaYiNg yOuR sHoRt.” He wheezes out with laughter, drawing Nightmare’s irritation to him, and it draws out another rough laugh from Frisk and Sloan’s bell like laugh.

The intention isn’t cruel, they aren’t laughing at him, not like the villagers had at him all those years ago, but something softer. Something playfully teasing without the edge of nastiness, and Nightmare doesn’t need to defend himself.

“I’m not that short.” He sounds scandalized, purposefully so, and it makes Frisk laugh a little harder, getting them back to their normal. Easing the kids back into their normal lives.

It makes him remember a time, long ago, when another little girl would laugh at his silly voices and scandalized tone. He shoves it down, the feeling of nostalgia, and reminds himself where he was.

He lets Frisk go, even as she laughs, and Sloan leans down to brush a kiss along Nightmare’s skull, earning a gagging noise from Error. Sloan sticks her tongue out at him, making Error smirk, and there’s a brief moment of calmness, of _normalness_. Whatever their new normal has just become.

Yet, any fun banter, any softness, died a quick death with a sudden spike of volatile anger and anxiety, and Sans’s voice sharp in the air, “Fuck off Asgore.”

Frisk stiffens next to Nightmare, her little face falling into grief and hurt as she reaches out to Nightmare suddenly. She grabbed his wrist, clinging a little too hard to him as they all looked across the field as Sans storms to the house, Asgore on his heels.

Nightmare frowns, sees Sans’s eye light flashing yellow and blue in a normally rarely roused anger, little specs of crimson in the centre of his eye light as he leans into the bond with Lilith. No doubt reassuring his mate that he was fine despite how he fled from Asgore.

The battle mage is on Asgore’s heels, her hands balled tightly in real anger and her swords shimmer at her back, halfway summoned as she storms after him. Nightmare feels his tentacles sharpen at his back, ready to get between _his_ Crew mates and a threat.

If they belonged to the Den, then the mage’s where _his_ just as equally, and Nightmare wasn’t going to sit by and allow _anyone_ to harm one of his.

Sloan’s eyes narrow as she tracks Asgore, azure magic sparking at her fingers when she quickly glanced to the others, and saw them gearing up. Saw how Edge pulled Hope and Mercy in behind him, freeing up the others to reach for weapons and magic, and Nightmare relaxes when he sees that most are tracking Asgore, but Wine is focused on Toriel.

Pulling Frisk back, he presses her behind him so she’s between himself and Error, just in case, as his socket narrows, “Sloan.” He says slowly, glancing to Red and Ripper, still asleep in the sun, thinking they were safe in mage territory, “If Asgore becomes aggressive, he’s very close to Red and Ripper.”

Sloan’s eyes glance to where they slept and her expression sours, “I’ll get them.” She promises.

Nightmare nods, as Asgore tries again, and everyone tenses.

“Sans, wait!” he called out, desperate, but still, Nightmare can feel the weird sense of _entitlement._

Sans stopped suddenly, spinning around with anger in his eye lights, “No!” he snapped, and Nightmare frowns, not understanding what’s happening or what they are arguing about, but it doesn’t really matter in the end.

What matters, is that Asgore is agitating Sans, and Nightmare feels his jaw starting to split down the middle of his mandible, and the shape of his skull starts to change to something more beastly.

“Sans.” Asgore stops short, tries again, his soft, plush hands up to placate him, but that only seems to agitate him further.

“No.” Sans hissed again coldly, fury in his eyes, and his own hands balled into fists.

“Sans. I could feel him again. I know he’s back.” Asgore tries again, and Nightmare frowns, sharing a confused look with Sloan. Behind him, Error is pulling more cables from his socket.

Sans’s fury goes cold, and pure, true hatred that Nightmare fed from instantly, stared back at Asgore, “After everything you did to me?”

“Sans.” Asgore tries to placate him, but Sans’s expression scrunches in anger, not having any of it.

“You _broke_ me.” He hissed, sockets narrowing, “You _broke_ the Judge. You _broke_ my friends, you twisted Olivia into something dark and cruel, then _left_ her to hurt others.” Hurt _him_ is the words that Sans can’t get out, but the unspoken words are loud in the silence between them.

Asgore looks like Sans struck him, but Sans isn’t done with him yet, and Lilith looks like she’s about to strike him when Sans’s continues, leaning into his newfound aggression that he’s pulling from Lilith, “That’s what you do Asgore, you twist and bend until we break. Until we have nothing left to give, then you dump us to deal with it alone.”

He grits his teeth with a snarl, “You didn’t want to _murder_ the fallen children, because you’re a fucking coward. You took me, your impressionable, young Judge, and convinced me to do your dirty work. You _told me_ , that it was my responsibility to be your Judge and executioner. That I needed to _take it_ because you couldn’t handle the LV, but I could handle it. I could take it, I could handle the LV because I had none!”

“Sans.” Asgore tries, and Nightmare feels something _twinge_ with irritation at his tone, as if somehow Sans is overreacting, “I never forced you to kill those children.”

Sans blinks at him, “Never forced,” he trails off with a bitter, cold laugh, and a sharp smile that doesn’t reach his sockets, “No, of course not.” He spits, tone dripping with caustic sarcasm, “You only used the compulsion over the Judge and forced him, me, to carry out your orders. Orders that were so twisted, so cruel, that even he couldn’t keep going. Orders to harm innocent children who did nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time, until the LV and the killing wore him down too. Broke him so thoroughly,” Sans jabs a vicious finger at Asgore bitterly, “that when he shattered after that innocent patient soul, he went into hibernation in _my_ soul to get away from what he had done. You made me see too much, too young and judge those who didn’t deserve their judgments.”

Sloan doesn’t take her eyes from Sans and Asgore, sees Lilith narrowing her eyes on his back as a short blade is summoned to her hand, and she hopes this doesn’t come to blows. They don’t need the hassle, after everything that’s happened, and what they need is for Asgore to leave.

Still, she leans to Nightmare and quietly asks, “What’s he talking about, the compulsion?”

Nightmare makes a bitter, angry noise at the back of his throat, “Judges are bound to their Kings. It’s not a _choice_ for them, they don’t choose who they serve, they say the Angel does.” He glances to her sour expression, “Or, you would say Fate does. But, when the King gives an order to the Judge specifically, the Judge is _compelled_ to obey. It takes a great deal of effort for the Judge and its host to defy their King.”

He glances to Red, somehow still dead asleep, trusting in his powerhouse mates to keep him safe, before he looked back to Sloan, “Red was particularly good at defying his King. He and his Judge took great pleasure in setting Asgore off. Yet, Queen Toriel, broke Coffee with torture. King Asgore broke Ripper and made him an easier target for Chara’s influence in his world until there was nothing left.” He glances at his Crew, each one left bend and broken by their world, each one a shattered Judge left behind by their Kings.

“It’s often a staple.” Nightmare mutters as he watches Sans gearing up for more of a fight, “Or at least, the worlds I sought my team from.” 

Sloan makes a deep, annoyed noise as Sans throws his hands up, and Lilith’s face has gone as cold as Nightmare had ever seen it, and he thinks she’s getting ready to take Asgore’s head clean off, “And then! As if that weren’t enough, when I told you the Judge was gone, that I couldn’t feel him anymore but still had _some_ of his abilities, you sent me back into the streets. No more support, no more funds, you didn’t even make sure I was okay!”

“You took _everything_ from me, shattered me, damaged my soul, then left me to deal with it. Left me, and anyone else you broke behind! Then, when I manage to claw my way out of that dark fucking whole, and I finally get my shit together, and you have the _audacity_ to come here, to my home, now?”

Sans gives another bitter laugh, and it sets Nightmare on edge, “You came here, to what? Demand my loyalty now that the Judge has started to return? You felt that bond what, fucking twinge, and you think you have the right to be here? You want me to come back now, after so long of being abandoned? You _left_ me to suffer alone, before fucking Lilith dragged me out of that whole. Fuck you Asgore.” He hissed.

Sans grit his teeth, glaring hard, “You only care about yourself Asgore.” He snapped.

Sans turned to leave, fury in his soul, and acid on his tongue, when Asgore called out, “Sans wait!” he sounds desperate, hopeful, “It was for the people! We needed you, we need you now!”

Sans spins back, sockets narrowed, “Need me?” he hissed, anger in his voice, “For the people? If this was for the people, you could have taken anyone of the souls, and left. You could have gone for the other souls, but you were a coward! You made us suffer, _and starve_ , because you didn’t want to do the hard thing. So you made _me_ do it. This wasn’t for the _people_ , it was for you!” he accused bitterly as he turned away, anger practically crackling over his body, as he tried to shut off the conversation.

Nightmare glances to Asgore, feels a sudden spike of anger before he burst out, angry and equally bitter, “Sans! I order you to stop!”

Sans froze, and Asgore stares hard, expression twisted into anger.

Nightmare can see Lilith’s eyes go wide, and he can see her metaphorical hackles rise, and he can taste the violence that’s about to come as Sans’s shoulders bunch up near his skull. There’s a weird twitch in Sans’s left shoulder, a tick that makes him jerk, and Nightmare stiffens when he feels a shift in the air.

It’s like someone flicked a switch and suddenly there’s a weird pressure that fills the space around them, and the air feels heavy. Nightmare shivers, a tentacle reaching for Sloan’s wrist to pull her gently back as well, to keep her close, and he doesn’t remember the last time he felt the Judge’s presence so keenly as he does now.

Even Lilith has gone stiff, but she refuses to step back as she glares hard at Asgore, her left eye flooding with blue magic as whatever piece of the Judge that now resides in her soul answers the vicious call from Sans’s.

When he turns back to Asgore, Sans’s sockets are blank, void of light and his expression is twisted into something akin to anger. His mouth has turned down as he stares hard at Asgore, and when he speaks, even Nightmare shivers a little as something otherworldly overlaps Sans’s voice.

“ _We no longer belong to you_.” He hissed, and Asgore’s expression falls and he takes a step back, “ _You broke us, left us,_ abandoned _us. In our time of need, you were no where to be found. You sat on your throne and watched us deteriorate. You sent us away so you wouldn’t have to watch us become nothing.”_

Sloan squeezed back at Nightmare, and he can’t recall a single time the Judge spoke directly to anyone, preferring to communicate through its host.

Sans makes the show to look at Asgore’s chest, to where his soul is no doubt pulsing hard. Sans sneers, “ _And now that we have been pulled from the wreckage, you have the audacity to want us back? Once we have begun to rebuild ourselves, into something new, something better, do you return? Wanting something from us?”_

Sans tilts his head, eyes narrowing hard, “ _You’re no better then Olivia, Asgore.”_ The former King winces at that, _“Taking something that doesn’t belong to you. Judging our bonded that saved our life, because of her high LoVe, while you disregard the pain you caused.”_

Sans’s expression tightens into something more furious, and he bares his canines, “ _We would have been dead without her. She is the one who put us back together. She is the one who dragged us from the darkness and protected our body and repaired our soul. She is the one we belong to, not you Asgore.”_

Sans’s skull seems to flick to Lilith’s stunned expression, his expression softening for a moment before it hardens when Sans looks back to Asgore, “ _We belong to the mage now. Mind, body and soul, it all belongs to her. Our loyalty is hers, and unlike you Asgore, she will not abuse the privilege.”_

His expression crumples further, “ _And let us be clear, you did abuse your privilege. You may feel our awakening in your magic, but let us will be clear. We do not belong to you any longer, Asgore._ ” His skull tilts, and Sans’s expression becomes bitter, “ _And I have judged you lacking. Now leave. Before my patience runs thin and I decide to carry out my judgement.”_

No one moves, shock thick around them as Sans takes a deep exhale, and his shoulders go lax as his eye lights slowly return. The blue magic fades from Lilith’s eye and it brightens back to hot crimson, but even she is staring at Sans with open shock, and clearly Sans never told her _what_ the Judge actually was.

Sans sways a little, rubbing at his sockets, “Shit. It’s been a while since that happened.” His voice is rough and exhausted, and Nightmare _knows_ he and Lilith are still recovering. That he was still feeding from her magical reservoirs as he recovered soul magic, and that neither one of them should be dealing with Asgore right now.

He _knows_ that neither one of them deserve to be dealing with this at all.

Nightmare grits his teeth as Lilith side steps Asgore’s large frame, coming to stand next to Sans, pressing in next to him as she glares hard at Asgore. She takes Sans’s hand, the short blade still in her grip as she takes a subtle stance so that she’s slightly out in front of Sans.

Sans leans into her side, dropping his hand to peer coldly at Asgore, “The Judge doesn’t belong to you anymore Asgore. You’ve proven you are unworthy to lead, and just because you can sense his existence, doesn’t mean that you have any right over us. We will not judge for you. Now leave.”

Sans’s voice is weak with exhaustion, and he leans into Lilith tiredly, his glare weak with his dwindling energy. Lilith has no such weakness in the face of Asgore, and her eyes are hard as stone and her mouth a bitter line.

Asgore blinks at them, “This is preposterous.” He suddenly snaps, the anger that Nightmare has been feeling the whole time, finally breaks, “You are the Judge, and the Judge belongs to the King. You are my _resource,”_ and that makes Lilith’s eyes narrow further and Sans wince, “You will do as I say Sans, you are my Judge,” his voice is getting louder, all the anger and bitterness of how their lives on the surface turned out bubbling up, “You,”

Whatever else Asgore was going to say was cut off by the sharp whine of a massive Blaster being summoned over head, and everyone freezes.

Its huge, with all spiralling horns and four eyes that are narrowed into bitter slits as crimson magic gathers in its maw. The magic seems to suck all the color out from around them, draining it and bathing everyone in its too bright crimson light.

Behind them, Red has woken up, pushed up to an elbow, but his sockets are wide and afraid, empty of their eye lights as Red panics, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt for a single moment that Red doesn’t see anyone around them. He doesn’t see Lilith or Sans, only Asgore and Nightmare doubts that he even realizes where he is.

Nightmare doubts Red is seeing Asgore but is likely seeing his own twisted version of him. The one who hurt and abused him, the one who tortured him for years, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt for a moment what Red will do if pushed.

Asgore trails off, and behind him, the mage’s wisely clear a path as they scramble to get out of the way, parting like the red sea as they prepare for Red to snap and lose what was left of his mind. This whole thing had been hard on Red too, they all fucking knew it, and it doesn’t surprise Nightmare that he’s trapped in a nightmare when faced with Asgore.

Nightmare curses, is moving quickly to intercept, knows that Red doesn’t need this shit on top of everything else. He doesn’t need the extra XP on his soul when he struggled to cope as it was, and Nightmare shoves Sloan behind him hard, hissing, “Stay here.”

He dissolves, his body falling into shadows after he gives Frisk’s hand a quick squeeze before he’s gone, stepping into the cold void of shadows, stepping back out under Red’s massive blaster. Magic is gathering in its maw, and Asgore makes the smart choice and freezes, although Nightmare isn’t certain if its because he’s smart or if he’s panicking.

If Nightmare was a betting man, he would have put money on it being the ladder.

Shaking the thought away, he focuses on the blaster, his tentacles twisting and thrashing like that of an angry cat’s tail, ready to thrust upward to tip the blaster skyward, just enough to save the life of the coward before him.

Asgore deserved this fate, Nightmare thought, feeding from his utter fear, but Red didn’t.

Glancing back and over his shoulder, Nightmare’s grim expression tightens when he sees that Lilith and Sans have clustered in close to Red, one on either side of him as they desperately try to calm him down. Their voices are smooth and soft as they talk to him, gentling him as they try to bring him to the hear and now, and not trapped in what ever nightmare that Red was caught in.

Their voices are soft, and they gently pet his cheeks and his shoulders as they talk to him, telling him he’s safe. Its okay, and to stand down.

Nightmare bites back a laugh when Sans calls _Red_ kitten of all things, but this isn’t a laughing matter. Over head the Blaster’s maw pools with near unbearable heat and light, and full of Red’s killing intent.

Beside them, Ripper has finally woken with the chaos around them, sitting up straight, sockets wide as he stares at the blaster as well, his mouth open in shock as he stares in awe. The black hateful tar slips down his cheeks thicker, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt for a moment that if this came to blows, Ripper would back Red in a heart beat.

Even if his spine was broken all over again, and the glint of a knife being pulled from his inventory only confirms it.

No one moves, focused on the Gaster Blaster that continues to pour magic into its maw, and the only two that speak are Lilith and Sans, reassuring Red he’s safe.

Time has no meaning as they try their best, speaking in low, hushed tones, until finally, _finally_ , Red’s voice breaks through theirs, “Lilith?”

Nightmare doesn’t dare move, staring back up at the Blaster, ready to tip it upwards if Red lets it lose.

Lilith pauses, before she’s quick to reassure, “Hey babe, yeah. You’re okay. Why don’t you dismiss the Blaster huh?” her voice is the same monotone as ever, no inflection and Nightmare knows that she isn’t stupid enough to put any inflection in it right now.

Not when Red is so close to the edge, and he clings to the normalcy.

Red blinks at them, confused and tired, and _afraid,_ before his eye lights glance to Sans. His voice is shaky at best, thick and Red blinks slowly at them again, while the Blaster doesn’t move, “Sans?”

Sans grins at him, despite the light over head strobing in crimson, “Heya buddy.” He greets his mate good naturedly, as if Red’s mind wasn’t on the verge of breaking, “You uh. You wanna do what Lili said? Dismiss him?” he nods upwards, drawing Red’s gaze up, and his brow furrows in confusion, as if he didn’t realize that the Blaster was hot and violent over head.

Nightmare doesn’t move, doesn’t dare to as his mates talk him down, and Red frowns before he dismisses the Blaster. It dissolves into glittering star dust, unfired and everyone is unharmed, breathing a sigh of relief. Nightmare still doesn’t move, a wall between the four at his back and Asgore, his tentacles thrashing angrily now that the immediate threat has changed.

Lilith and Sans look at each other, eyes flashing with magic of their mate, communicating with the bond, and whatever Sans has said to her, has Lilith nodding in agreement. She doesn’t look to Asgore, her focus is on Red, who’s still breathing too hard, who’s body is trembling and still looks painfully confused as he blinks around them.

Lilith doesn’t look at any of the others, only has eyes for Red as she encourages him up, pulling him to his feet. He’s shaky and unsteady, leaning into Lilith as she guides him inside with an arm around his shoulders, holding him tightly.

With a half-broken sob, Mercy tares herself away from Edge to rush past, to catch up as Lilith takes Red back inside.

No one else moves, and when Sans turns to Asgore, his eye lights are bright, shining yellow with fury, “You need to leave Asgore.” He hisses, still comfortably behind Nightmare, his fists balled tight, and Nightmare doesn’t doubt for a moment that if this came to blows, Sans wouldn’t need his help. Not with the anger that’s currently leaking from his soul with a newfound vengeance.

It seemed Sans would tolerate Asgore treating him poorly, but not his mate.

How fucking typical, and seeing this in Sans, help makes a lot of different thing suddenly make sense.

“Are the girls safe here?” Toriel asks suddenly, glancing nervously to Frisk and Hope, earning another hiss from Sans.

Sloan and Felix have pulled them both close as magic dances at each of their fingertips, ready to be pulled in for their preferred style of fighting.

Yet, Sans puffs up, angry and bitter when he sneers, “Don’t even fucking try it Toriel.” He hisses, making her startle, “Of course the girls are safe here, don’t even suggest they aren’t.”

Anger leaks heavily from Sans, still raw and near the surface, and Nightmare catches him easily by the shoulder when he tries to stalk forward, his vice rattling in the carefully made box in his mind.

Sans stalls as Nightmare grabs him, but he can still feed from the fury Sans is throwing off in waves, “You two need to leave.” Sans tells them coldly, glancing from Asgore to Toriel, and back again.

“After everything the mages have done for us? This is how you treat them? Question their ability to protect-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head angrily, “Just get off my property.”

Toriel looks stricken, but as Asgore opens his mouth to say something else, to argue or to give an excuse, Nightmare doesn’t care, but the sound of magic suddenly humming around them makes his teeth snap shut.

All around them, everyone has summoned something, whether a bone or pulled a weapon from inventory, there isn’t a single person or monster who is unarmed. Even Undyne, looking stricken and upset, stands shoulder to shoulder with Felix, a spear in her hands.

“Its time for you to go now Asgore.” Nightmare agrees coldly, his narrowed eye lights glaring at Toriel briefly, “Now. Before one of us looses our patience.”

There’s a long, awkward pause, the tension so thick that Nightmare was certain that even Ripper’s dullest knife could have cut through it.

It does the trick however, and Nightmare smiles, sharp and cruel, as Asgore backs away, his hands still up. Smart, to not give a larger predator your back.

_Everyone_ tracks him, his slow movement back across the yard, no one jumping even when Glass bursts from the back door, eyes narrowed and angry, focused with bitter intent on the two boss monsters. No one moves, no one dares, as the monsters move across their yard, slipping back into their SUV without another word, the Den and the Crew’s gazes hot on their backs.

Still, no one moves, doesn’t dare too, until the taillights disappear around the bend, and the threat is gone.

Its only then does Sans loosen under Nightmare’s hold, his shoulders relaxing, but his expression is still bitter and angry. He turns away with a curse, ducking under Nightmare’s hand to storm into the compound to check on Red.

Ripper pulls himself to his feet, taking his position to Nightmare’s right elbow, wiping sleep from his socket, “Well that was fun.” He says bitterly, quietly to Nightmare, who can only nod as the weird spell is broken, and the others filter into the house. Frisk and Hope rush by, chasing after Mercy, leaving the others to filter in until its only Error, Ripper and himself standing outside in the ashes of their happy afternoon and the unfairness of it all.

“yOu LeAd A fUcKeD uP lIfe.” Error muses as he stops next to Nightmare, raising a brow at him with an amused smirk.

Nightmare sighs, staring flatly after the SUV, his tentacles thrashing with annoyance, “I’m well aware, thank you Error.”

Error and Ripper make little chuffs of laughter, and yes, Nightmare knows that he’s going soft. That he feels things he shouldn’t feel anymore, that his entire world had been turned inside out and he was painfully, stupidly in love with Sloan and Sin.

Nightmare isn’t stupid, he knows that his new vulnerability is a weakness, makes him a target to be hurt, and that makes him all the more dangerous.

Nightmare has something to lose now, and understands what loss feels like. It was that sparkling new vulnerability, made that territorial thing claw in his chest, and already it was demanding blood for the distress they have caused.

This newfound vulnerability made Nightmare a more vicious combatant, despite the softness to his family.

Nightmare sighed and glared after the SUV, “You’ve no idea.”

-

Stepping into the living room, Nightmare’s eye light slips around the tightly packed space, seeking Red first and foremost. He’s pressed into Lilith, sockets half lidded and he looks like he’s already falling back asleep, the last few days as hard on Red as the others.

Mercy is leaning into his side, pressed in tight to him, hanging onto his arm as they watch a movie. Lilith had an arm around Red’s shoulders, her fingers trailing gently at his collar bone, where his t-shirt now hid the hard bite mark from her.

Sans and Edge are on the floor in front of him, Frisk pressed into Sans’s side, mimicking Red and Mercy, all clustered in close to Red. Sans is leaning in heavily into Edge, and the taller Fell brother has his arm around Sans, pulled in tight and clustered together.

Nightmare relaxes, sees both Sans and Red at ease and gentled, held by their taller mates, safe in their home. The others are clustered around as well, pulled in tight and close, even Error hanging out near the far wall, away from everyone else.

Nightmare takes a breath, and relaxes, that territorial thing that’s been clawing at his throat is finally soothed and eases, to have all of _his_ people near by and safe.

His tentacles smooth out, becoming rounded and rubbery rather then sharp and vicious as he steps around Glass and Lola, folding neatly next to Sloan, leaning into her side. Her arm goes around him as she leans into Sin, pulling Nightmare to her side to cuddle in with their mate.

There’s a collective sigh of relief, and after a fortnight of pain and uncertainty, of being separated, they’re all back together.

Right where they all should have been from the start, and Nightmare, despite all the calm happiness around him, relaxes.

With the girls return, the final pieces of their puzzle have slotted back into place. The girls have come home, everyone is safe and for a while, at least, they were happy.


	48. A Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie gives Lilith and Crow an update on how things are going outside of their territory. 
> 
> Someone interrupts their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovlies, 
> 
> I hope you are all well and enjoying your Sunday! 
> 
> New update today, a little world building chapter and the last palate cleanser before we move onto the next arc. I've been waiting to write this one for a long while, and it's super unforchunate that its while I'm struggling with my writing. Even still, I'm pretty happy how it turned out, I think it's funny so I hope you all enjoy it :3 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still reading and supporting this story! It means a lot to me :D 
> 
> Enjoy!

Wandering the halls of the compound, Crow scratches hard at the side of his skull, the tips of his fingers scoring into the bone, leaving shallow claw marks near his socket. He knows Nightmare is going to be cross with him for not coming to him first, for taking his anxiety out on himself, but Crow can’t find it in himself to care.

Not today, at least, he can’t _care_ about himself in the weird post traumatic bull shit they’ve been faced with in the last near three weeks. It had been long and exhausting, taking a toll on everyone in some form. Crow knows that Lilith and Sans suffered the most, Red not far behind them with Edge, but they hadn’t been the only ones who had suffered.

The others _had_ suffered, and now in the weird aftermath of all that trauma, Crow’s head was too silent. His head is too quiet with emptiness that the lingering threat had left with him, leaving him feeling uncertain and not sure what to do with himself.

Leaving is skull empty enough for it to be filled with _other._

The voice is loud in his head again, taking up the space left behind by the trauma of their last few weeks, and no matter how much Crow cranks up the aerosolized feeling of love from his respirator, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that has sunk its cruel, vicious claws into his mind.

The voice, as familiar to him as his own, whispers in his head, telling him what a pathetic loser he was, how weak he had become, that he was a parasite leaching off the kindness of others. Telling him they were weak, and how pretty the compound would look with them dismembered and their entrails draped around their home.

Its all lies, Crow knows, utter bullshit, and the respirator helps him separate reality from the crap in his head, but its not stopping the voice today. Its too quiet still, and Crow would _kill_ for a distraction.

Yet, everyone else was out.

Ripper was still recovering, asleep in his room and utterly useless as a distraction. Gore’s asleep in their bed, tired and weak, storing magic for their upcoming heat, and Red was asleep in Sans’s bed.

They were probably fucking, now that Sans and Lilith had seen the size of his cock, and good for them. Not a great distraction for him.

Lilith was around, _somewhere_ , but Crow knew she wasn’t with her mates, something about a meeting or some bullshit. Lola and Glass had taken Sugar out on a hike, walking one of the easier trails and it was only because Glass was with them that Gore could sleep well.

The others were _around,_ somewhere, but Crow really didn’t know where, and the main crux of it was, they weren’t with him. Nothing to distract him from the voice in his head that told him that he should take a knife and slit Sloan’s pretty, thin throat.

And that was fucking stupid, wasn’t? First of all, Crow _liked_ Sloan, she was as Crew as the others, and Crow wasn’t going to hurt her. Second of all, Sloan was Nightmare’s mate and despite what others may think, Crow did not have a fucking death wish.

Crow doesn’t doubt for a single fucking moment that if he laid a single finger on Sloan, Nightmare would remind them all very quickly just how dangerous he was and just how vicious he could be. Crow doesn’t doubt that, no matter how soft Nightmare may _appear,_ if someone hurt Sloan, Nightmare would rip them apart.

Sin too, he doesn’t doubt that, but the voice isn’t telling him to slaughter Sin today.

That being said, it had taken Crow a long _time_ to accept the newer Crew mates and for the voice to stop threatening violence constantly. It particularly liked to pick on Wine, it still did, and liked to talk about how much fun it would be to break his spindly little legs.

 _Would._ The voice says, delightfully agreeing with the intrusive thought, and Crow rolls his eye lights.

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed at it, finishing his third lap of the lower floor, swinging slowly into the kitchen, pausing with a frown when he saw Lilith and the Coven leader, the one who was okay with Nightmare butchering mages at the table.

Lilith looks up from the report she’s reading when Crow shambles into the room, blinking at each other and there’s a puff of pink smoke from his respirator.

She frowns at him, her head tilting, “You okay Crow?”

Crow blinks at her, even as the voice whispers, _She would be a challenge. We could take her. Think of the XP brother._

“No.” Crow hisses, to both the voice and Lilith, and a tension suddenly has her shoulders hitching up.

The Coven leader, and Crow struggles to remember her name and wishes he could, freezes as well, staring at Crow with wide eyes and an open expression. She seems soft compared to Lilith, easily slaughtered, and the easier of the two targets.

Lilith reaches slowly out to her, grabbing the Coven leaders arm to keep her in place, and she gives Crow a hard look. She’s unafraid and moving slow, and somewhere in Crow’s skull, the part that’s still sensible, he sighs in relief that Lilith has the frame of mind to not be afraid or to move quickly.

No different then the others, as unafraid as Nightmare is, and when the voice whispers, _Take her down_ , Crow ignores it and focuses on Lilith as she moves slowly to pull the chair out next to her, “Okay.” As if it was that simple and he was anywhere near okay, “Do you wanna come hang out with Evie and I?”

He glances to the Coven leader, and yes, that was her name. Evie, the one who fed Nightmare souls when he was weak, and he shrugs. His sockets drop, and he wonders if he should leave, he’s unwell and unstable, and he could hurt them.

Yet, Lilith’s head tilts and she gives him a crooked grin, the one she only gives to family behind the walls of the compound when they were safest, “Evie is just going through what happened with Akkar and the elves response.”

That makes Crow pause, and there’s a thick puff of smoke from his respirator. That sounds important, that sounds like something he could help _fix,_ and that feeling of being important helps sooth the sound of the voice scoffing in his head. He was Nightmare’s heavy hitter, more unstable then Glass or Red, so he wasn’t suited as a guard, but he could help protect the others. He could help protect Lilith when she was still recovering magic and stabilizing Sans. When she was still guarding over Red and Edge, Crow would make sure she was safe.

He blinks at her, ignores the voice in his head that tells him Lilith is pathetic and he should kill her. He should gut her and Evie, and he rolls his mismatched eye lights at it, shuffling forward in socked feet.

She holds his gaze, seeing the tension in his shoulders, remembers a time, not that long ago, when Crow was like this and snapped, very nearly killing Felix. “You with me?” she asks him quietly, and beside her, Evie is incredibly quiet.

She’s smart, and Evie, is very still.

Crow drops into the empty chair next to Lilith, and folds his arms over the table, sinking down low so he lays his skull over his crossed arms, “Not really.” He mutters to Lilith, kicking his feet out under the table.

Lilith nods, shifting so she’s in front of Evie, and that’s smart, Lilith is a battle mage and can take a hit for her spell caster Coven mate, should Crow lose control.

She pulls in close, unafraid of him, unafraid of her _Den_ mate, and she draped a light arm around his shoulders, “Okay. Its okay Crow. Its okay.” She reassured quietly, squeezing him lightly, giving him a super light half hug.

Sighing, Crow’s sockets dropped to half mast, warm as he leans into Lilith’s side, relaxing bit by bit, regardless of the dark, dirty voice in his head. His Crew mate had him, and he was okay now.

“Where’s Sans?” he asked, slurring a little and redirecting the conversation away from him.

Lilith hummed softly, her thumb brushing at his shoulder, “Upstairs. Napping with Red.” She told him, paused and there’s a soft flash of blue when she leaned into their fresh new bond. She smiled softly, a little crooked and surprisingly soft with Evie around them, before she added, “Though they aren’t napping.”

It makes Evie sigh, and Crow laughs softly next to her, and some of the edge eases from his soul, like Ripper taking a knife from his body, the tension letting go. The voice is still cruel and nasty, its words aiming to hurt, but they lessen with his Crew mate pressed into his side.

“If we may?” Evie asked, and Crow narrowed his sockets to slits, glancing to her, leaning his skull into Lilith’s side, watching Evie.

Still grinning, and Crow doesn’t doubt for a moment what’s happening up in Red’s room. Still, Lilith quietly pulls away from the bond, lets Red and Sans have their time, waving at Evie, “Sorry Evie. Go ahead, we’ll behave.”

Evie, stern as ever and her hair folded neatly up into a bun, shakes her head a little at Lilith and Crow, and neither of them bother to hide their smirking grins. She rolls her eyes with at them and clears her throat, “Of course.” She sounds almost amused, despite her flat look.

The grin fell from her mouth, becoming serious, and Crow watches the hard won and rarely seen joy drain from Lilith’s expression like water draining from a cup. She became cold and hard, her eyes like dark chips of black ice and Evie slid over an open folder.

Crow lifts his head a little, tilting it as much as he could, to try to look at the report from under Lilith’s arm. Lilith is warm and comfortable, and she’s helping loosen the choking hold on the voice in his head.

“Well.” Evie says quietly, frowning at the report, “There is a little bit of good news in all this, amongst all this horror.” She glances up to Lilith, her eyes flicking to Crow before she looks back to Lilith, “And its going to get so much worse Lilith. So much worse.”

“She fucking died.” Crow hissed from Lilith’s side, and hurt crosses Evie’s expression briefly.

“I know she did.” Evie sounds small and uncertain, upset, “But there are going to be a lot more dead mages if we aren’t careful.” She glances down to the report and her expression crumples, “I’m sorry Crow, but this is bigger then just Lilith.”

Crow growls, and the voice whispers sweet, cruel things he would like to do. Lilith squeezes him against her side and nods for Evie to keep going. She clears her throat, “This has the potential to be a large issue.” She says quietly, and she takes a breath, “So let’s start with the good news.”

“Lilith’s not dead.” Crow tells her plainly from Lilith’s side huffing out dark, oily smoke from his respirator.

Evie blinks at him, her eyes glancing to his respirator before meeting Crow’s angry sockets again, “Of course.” She says softly, offering him a grin, “More good news then.”

Crow grunts, pressing into Lilith’s side, even when the voice tells him to summon a bone and ram it between her ribs. Tells him that it would feel so _good_ to feel the blood running down his hands, hot from her body, and won’t that be fun?

Crow ignores him, lazily looking to Evie, waiting for her to continue, “So, the good news is that Akkar’s younger sister, Aleana had nothing to do with the attack.”

Lilith gives her a flat look and Crow snorts, “Ya sure?” he growled at her, his agitation soothed by having a Crew mate nearby.

Evie, undaunted, nods, “She voluntarily underwent two separate inspections with a spell caster with the soul seeing trait and came out clean.”

Lilith’s expression is unchanging, so Crow snarls, “Was one Sloan?” not caring that Evie was supposed to be something to him, she wasn’t Crew.

Evie’s grin falters, “No.” she tells them slowly, “Sloan was indisposed.”

Crow huffs like a dog who wants to bark but knows they aren’t allowed, “Its shit then.” His mouth pulls into a sneer under his respirator, “If Sloan didn’t do it, how the fuck we know they ain’t lying.”

Evie frowns, and Lilith tilts her head in question as her Coven leader scrambles, “Well.” She sounds almost offended, “They’re Coven mates. Allies.”

Crow snorts, “Akkar was an ally.” He shrugs from under Lilith’s arm, bitter and his voice gravelly, “And look how that turned out.”

Evie blinked at him, her eyes flicking back to Lilith’s impassive expression before she slowly says, “We also had a truth serum brewed. Just in case. It.” She paused, “It all checked out Crow, I promise.”

Crow’s sockets narrow, his left one igniting briefly in purple magic before its quickly smothered. Evie flinches and Lilith squeezes him tighter.

He glanced to Lilith, “Why didn’t Sloan brew it?”

Lilith’s mouth ticks up the slightest at the corners of her lips, only enough that only Crew would have seen it, “Sloan can’t brew truth serum worth shit. It’s a skill she, nor I, nurtured.” She glances to Evie, “Did one of the Nightshade do it?”

Evie nodded, “They did. Angelina’s younger sister, Samantha, brewed it.”

Crow’s eye lights glanced up to Lilith, who nodded back at him. That was enough for Crow to relax back at her side, and nodded for Evie to continue.

“Well,” Evie took a breath. “Aleana is very distraught by the attack, as are the Elven elders.” It almost makes Crow want to snort in disgust. They’re distraught? Crow could show them distraught, he could…

He struggles to listen to Evie. This was important, he could report back to Nightmare. “Things have been very tense with them, they are anticipating war with us. We have been reassuring them that, we do not intend to, that this was an isolated incident, but they have called back all their ambassadors.”

Evie sighs, and Crow mildly notes she sounds tired. “Well, all but Aleana. As it turned out, Akkar went missing about eight months ago, she’s been trying to find him ever since, and she’s furious at his choices.”

She gives Lilith a grin, “She served under you and Felix, yes?”

Lilith nods, still holding Crow, letting him guard her flank, “Yeah,” she says slowly, “Under Sloan too. She didn’t make a great spy, so she never worked with Ry.”

That set something at ease in Evie, even if it did nothing to cool Crow’s anger. “I thought so.” She agrees, “Well, she’s doing you proud at least, and has refused to go home. She’s sent a blasting message to her Elders, called them all cowards. Calling out her kin, demanding they go back to their posts.” Evie shrugs, “Some have, and Aleana has been very vocal that the Elves should be doing more to assist our Coven in tracking down the Spell Caster that sold the soul shatter spells to Akkar.”

Shaking her head, Evie gives the report between her and Lilith a dark look, “Unfortunately, whoever sold the spell to him, covered their tracks well. Or once they realized who Akkar attacked with them, they went underground. Thus far, witch mirrors and scrying spells are coming up empty. Either way, the black market is rife with Spell Caster’s who will sell dangerous spells to anyone who can pay for them. Even shatter spells it seems.”

“Yeah well,” Lilith rolled her eyes, “the penalty for creating a shatter spell is death. So, I’m not surprised they’ve gone into hiding. Whoever they are.”

Evie winces, “Lilith,” she says Lilith’s name like she’s said _duh,_ “I feel as if they ran because of who it was used on rather then the penalty of summoning it. I mean, if their name ever surfaced, anyone of your Den mates would rip their intestines out and make them eat it.”

Crow nods, his respirator puffing with lighter smoke, and the voice lowers its hold on his soul. Slowly, letting Lilith and Evie’s voices wash over him, just listening and the pressure in his soul lessened.

“That’s true.” He shrugged, and slowly his sockets drooped half shut.

Lilith huffs, and inch by painful inch, Crow feels better. Crew is near by, so things can’t be that bad.

“Aleana, at least, is mortified by what has happened, and I think she wants to come talk to you, but she’s afraid of how your Den will react.” Evie explains in a small voice, and it makes Lilith’s mouth tip down, “She’s offered to leave Ebott ands settle else where, should you not be amicable to her return.”

Evie winces, and hesitates, “She’s been working with our bounty hunters to find those responsible. She’s been very vocal in doing so as well.”

Lilith sighs, and Crow watches a dozen micro expressions cross her face before she settles into neutral, “Alena hasn’t lived anywhere else since the war.” She said neutrally, but Crow can feel the tenseness of her body at his side, “She shouldn’t have to suffer for something her brother did. I’m not going to force her out.”

If Evie can sense the tenseness in Lilith, Crow can’t be sure, but he watches her nod, “She will be relieved to be able to stay.” The mage then frowns, and her look darkens towards the report, and inwardly, Crow straightens up to listen.

This is the important part, and he needs to retain as much information to report back to Nightmare his findings. Just in case. Like he used to do on the field, before they came here.

“The bad news.” Evie said, her voice growing cold, “Aleana reported her brother missing eight months ago. She said a few months before his disappearance he was acting odd. Angry all the time and lashing out. Aleana tried to get him help, but he refused.”

Evie flipped a page, letting Lilith read the report and Crow tried to _focus_ as Lilith’s cool, monotone voice echoed through the side of his ribs from where she held him, “I bet he went squirrely right around the time I punched him in the face, after he told me to leave Sans.”

Evie winced, “Yeah, that timeline would match up.” She agreed softly, flipping the page again, Lilith’s eyes scanning the new document as Evie went on, “Right. So. Aleana makes the report, and Akkar is MIA until he pops back up home just before he attacked you.”

“He was unstable, talking nonsense, and angry. From what our investigation of your attack has shown, was that he always planned to attack Sans, but not at the baseball game. That was an unplanned assault compared to what he had planned.”

Evie flips another page, and Crow can feel the spike of anger from Lilith at the images on the colored-printed page. It’s a cold, vile thing, as vicious as he is, and Crow tries to see the page that Lilith is looking at. “This was photographed from Akkar’s journal.” Evie explains, and from his angle, Crow thinks he can see the photo of Sans with his eye lights gouged out with a black marker.

Crow winces, and cringes into Lilith’s tense side. She’s still, far too still, like a dog who has frozen and is making the decision to walk away or bite.

“He had actually planned to attack in a few months, during the Gala, when most of us would have been busy with preparation. He was expecting you all to stay home, and his intention was to get close enough to Sans to kill him. Sans was the target, you were collateral. The second spell, it was a back up.”

“I know.” Lilith says quietly, too quietly as she glares at the page, and Crow presses into her side, fighting down the surge of magic, as his LV flairs hard.

He shoves it down and finds it weird that he doesn’t hear the voice.

There’s a flash of red in his peripheral vision, but he can’t crane his neck from where he’s pressed into Lilith. He frowns at what he can see, or more specifically, what he can’t see, and there’s nothing but the kitchen around them.

“The attack at the game was a hasty decision based on convenience.” Evie looks bitterly down at the folder as she flips to another page, bringing Crow’s attention back to the report. “However, this is the bigger issue.” Evie tells them evenly through clenched teeth.

Frowning, Lilith’s head tilts, “What is the Coalition of United Non-Mage Magical Creatures?”

Heaving a tired sigh, Evie tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear, “The CUNMC.” Lilith and Crow blink at her, Lilith biting her lip as Crow’s voice fades into a rusty giggle, and Evie sighs again, “Yes I know. It’s almost cum, please focus.”

Crow chuckles and before he can stop himself, “Heh. Don’t worry Evie, my attention is _cumming._ ”

The Coven leader sighs, and Crow almost has the giggles under control when Lilith adds, “Yeah Evie, don’t _spank_ on us not paying attention.”

Crow dissolves into giggles, helpless and unpracticed as Evie gives Lilith a flat look, “Really?”

Lilith shrugs, her expression cool neutral as always, but Crow can see how her eyes sparkle, in the way they do when Sans is really happy. Crow settles back into her side, looking expectantly to Evie.

“Are you two done.” Crow is delighted when neither of them move, and he offers a weak shrug to Evie, drawing out a put-upon sigh, “In any case. The CUNMC is a group of Fairy Tale Folk who believe that the mages should step down as the protection class. They think we are too blood thirsty to hold the positions we do, and we should surrender all our territories to be divided up among the different species and groups.”

The amusement died in Crow’s soul and his grin fell. As did Lilith’s and her eyes grow cold, “What?”

Evie nodded, looking bitter and grim, “Yes. They have no actual plan for the territories, which will dissolve into more fighting, even if we did agree to give up our positions. Which, we are not.” She adds quickly at Crow’s angry hiss, “But they’ve been picking up steam lately. They really focus on the monsters as well, trying to get them to join, but I think most of them see how well you protect them, they aren’t playing ball. But who knows?”

“Why not just destroy them?” Crow muses, glaring at the paper as if it offended him personally, and it draws another sigh from Evie.

“A number of battle mages have said the same, to destroy the threat before it gets any traction, but its such a one-sided fight it would be more of a slaughter then anything else. It would only galvanise everything they are saying about how we should not lead.” Evie tells him bitterly.

“Funny, how quickly they forget what the humans did to them without our support.” She adds just as cynical in her words, and it makes something angry twist in Crow’s soul. He knew _his_ mages suffered so much, and for what?

Lilith clenched her teeth, glancing to Crow, “More and more enemies, never does stop does it?”

Evie snorted, “You taught me the war never ended. Just the battlefield.”

Lilith huffs a bitter laugh, knowing the truth as Evie continued, “Akkar ended up joining the CUNMC, and they funded the attack. Akkar’s attack may have been personal for him, but for them it was about weakening Pandora. Even if the attack had, Fates forbid, killed only Sans, I don’t know how you would have faired Lilith.” Evie winces, “Without him.”

Lilith’s gaze is steady and cold, and Evie continues, “It would have weakened Pandora. And like many others, this group is afraid of you.”

Crow snorted, “You mean it would have pushed her into an LV induced rage, and they would get the slaughter they wanted.” His words make Lilith’s face go tight, and they know the truth of it.

The truth of what would have happened to anyone associated with Sans’s death had Akkar succeeded, and what Lilith’s reaction would have been.

“So they saw this as an opportunity?” Lilith asked bitterly, her grip on Crow tighter as her eyes gleam crimson.

Evie nods, “And an escalation. They have never outright attacked. Always trying the political angle or the public interest.” Evie gives them a bitter look, “Yet its hard to get the public on your side to do away with the old guard when they are the only thing standing between a Wrathe and your town.”

Lilith licked her teeth and frowned, “Well yeah. We care for the people in our territory. Keep them safe and well. Why would they turn on us?”

Evie shrugged, “They _are_ gaining traction though, mostly in settlements around only human encampments where mages are rare or hated. It seems most of the funding they are receiving is coming from humans.”

Lilith rolled her eyes so hard that Crow could see the underside of them, “And once they’ve done away with us, the humans will turn on them.”

Evie nodded, “And history repeats itself.”

“This _is_ a conundrum!” A voice came from between Lilith and Evie, high pitched with sugary sweet false happiness, and it’s painfully familiar to Crow.

Odd, he usually hears it in his head.

The two mages still, blink at each other in surprise at the new voice in the room, one that clearly did not belong to either of them, before they both slowly turned to the empty space between them. They move slowly, cautiously, like they were in a god damned horror show, much to Crow’s amusement, and he looks up with them.

It floated between them, eerily crowding in tight enough that if either mage had shifted even a little, they would have touched it.

Its Papyrus’s face that stares back at them, bobbing in a non-existent air current, his skull nestled into a transparent, coiling crimson scarf that floats in thin little whisps around the skull that was not attached to a body. A pair of hands with no forearms floated limply just beyond the skull, each finger tipped with a sharp claw, and unlike Papyrus’s soft eye lights, this _thing_ stared at the two mages with vicious crimson.

Crow grins at the sight, even as he feels Lilith take a sharp breath, felt the tension pull through her body as her eyes went wide. Evie did the same, eyes wide and stunned, and unlike Lilith, her breath caught.

Lifting her hand, Lilith slowly stretches out, as if she were going to touch the sharp looking claws, her blunt fingers passing through them, “Evie?”

“Yeah?” Crow grins when their voices creek, and he presses harder into Lilith’s side.

“You see this right?” Lilith asks slowly, her voice oddly quiet.

“Yeah.” She agrees just as quiet, just as choked.

Lilith nods as it’s face lights up in delight, the curling tail of its scarf vibrating in excitement like that of a cat, before it shoots forward with sheer glee and excitement. Its sockets go wide, gleaming crimson with excitement and moving in an unnatural way, jerky like only a ghost could, it got into their faces, with a bright cruel smirk.

The mages freeze, tensing up and Crow can smell the stench of rot that his brother tended to carry when he manifested himself. It’s heavy and smothering, like rotting flesh, like the world _knew_ it was wrong that he was still here, and he _grinned,_ “Hello.” He purred.

Crow is expecting Lilith to tell him off, or swat at him or ask Crow what the fuck.

What he is not expecting is for Lilith’s eyes to go wide as Evie grabs onto her arm and shrieks like a child. It was loud and piercing, like the wail of a terrified kid, that it had Crow jerking harder into Lilith as if they were attacked. He looks around wildly for an assailant, his hand bunching into Lilith’s shorts, his left raising and ready to summon a blaster.

Even his brother jerks away, sockets widening, as he muttered, “ _Rude._ ”

He opens his mouth to say more, crimson sockets narrowing, when magic flows over Crow like warm water of a bath, and he’s dragged into a trace. Its not like stepping into a short cut, like stepping into the void, where you know your whole body is in one piece.

Its like his whole body has been stripped down, like magic pulled apart the fabric of his being, and he knew that his hands simultaneously did and did not exist. Just like he knew Lilith never once let go of him, but she too, was nothing but magic and star dust.

He didn’t like this method of travel, couldn’t see how the mages could do this _constantly_ when it made his nonexistent guts twist.

They come out of the trace staggering and barely on their feet just near the front door, and Crow sways even as Lilith holds him up. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, or why Lilith and Evie are panicking, but they’re both scrambling.

Lilith makes for the front door, her grip on Crow is like iron, so strong that he isn’t sure he could break from it when he’s suddenly _picked up_ from under his arms like a teddy bear and held to Lilith’s chest. She’s turning for the door, hauling Crow off his feet, and he can feel her heart pounding against her ribs when Evie grabs for Lilith and hauls her the other way. The battle mage stumbles, and she’s suddenly yanked towards the coat closet.

Crow isn’t even sure how it happened, just one moment they were screaming in the kitchen, the next Evie was hauling Lilith into the closet and slamming the door shut. Darkness envelops them as they pant hard, backing away until their spines hit the wall, crushed together in the tiny closet side by side, with only Crow’s mismatched eyes to light up the darkness.

He’s been pressed hard into Lilith’s front, and her grip on him is iron tight, like she would, in a heartbeat, put herself between any threat and him, if she needed to. It makes him feel a weak twitch of affection for the mage, even if he was confused as hell.

He reaches up, his hands finding her wrists, holding on tight and hopes this is how your supposed to comfort your friends. This was right, right? He saw Nightmare’s tentacles holding Sloan and Sin’s hands like this lots of times.

He’s doing this right, he’s sure.

Evie is trembling next to them, and Crow’s mouth tips up into an amused laugh. “What the fuck was that?” she hissed to Lilith.

Lilith, calm as ever, despite how quickly she _ran_ , swallows hard, “A ghost.”

“Ghosts!” Evie hisses back, despite the fear, “Are exceedingly rare!”

Lilith is nodding, her grip on Crow not lessening, “Well aware thank you Evie.” She pauses, and Crow bites back the snide comment that this is at least the second ghost they’ve dealt with, as Evie makes an annoyed noise by how calm Lilith is, “Why the fuck did you take us to the closet?”

“I panicked!” Evie hissed back, and it makes Crow huff a small laugh, leaning back to listen to the mages bicker, confused by it all.

“The front door was right there!” Lilith hissed back, her head whipping around to glare, “Why the closet!”

“I said I pan-“ Evie’s teeth snap shut when the voice from outside the door calls, “Where did everyone go?” in its high-pitched sugary joy that makes the mages cringe back.

Crow blinks at the door, head tilting as Evie’s breath hitches again, and she grasps for Lilith’s arm hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t understand why they’re afraid, its just his brother, after all.

Still, they seem keen on playing hide and go seek, so Crow keeps his mouth shut and clings a little tighter to Lilith. 

Slapping a hand to her mouth, Evie bites back a whimper, keeping quite as Papyrus continues to call out in his sugary sweet voice, coming closer and closer to the closet like something out of a god damned horror movie. Evie cringes into Lilith’s side, and the battle mage clings to Crow a little harder, both still enough that Crow doesn’t think they’re breathing.

Seconds tick by, and no one breathes. No one utters a noise, except his brother that continues to call out for him.

“Sans?” he calls making Crow blink and frown, and he’s sure he’s told his brother that Sans isn’t his name anymore. He huffs an annoyed little sigh, and a puff of pink smoke curls up from his respirator.

“Sans stop being pathetic and come out.” That sugary voice called, and Crow rolled his eye lights hard.

He was right, of course, he was being pathetic, hiding in a closet. Yet, this is where Lilith, a member of the Crew that was higher in the hierarchy then he was, had decided this was where they were hiding. So, he stays quiet and holds on to Lilith hard.

He hears his brother huff an annoyed sigh, and they feel his presence leave again until there was nothing but silence.

It’s Evie who breaks it first, quietly whispering from behind her hands, her voice muffled, “Do you think it’s gone?”

Lilith shrugs, still glaring at the door, her arms tight around Crow, “I dunno?” she whispered back.

“Why are we all hiding?” a sugary voice asks from between them, and Crow grins as Lilith and Evie turn, eyes wide and gleaming with magic as they stare at his brother suddenly between them.

His grin is wide and delighted and the stench of death is suddenly thick in the small space around them, and Evie’s pupils dilate in fear. She takes a shuttering breath as Lilith goes for the door handle, her sweaty hand slipping on the doorknob as she tries desperately to push it open, and Evie shrieks again, making them all wince.

The door is yanked open from the other side, and bright hot light fills the space again, making them squint in the sudden light as they all fall forward, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Lilith is still carrying Crow when she trips _over_ Nightmare, her feet tangling in his low hanging tentacles as Evie slams into Felix.

He tries to steady her, but he’s tipped off balance and into Sloan, who, Crow knows, doesn’t have the size or ability to keep her much heavier brother upright. They _all_ go tumbling to the floor in a heap, with Lilith and Evie struggling to stand to no avail, before Lilith is dragging the _lot_ of them through another trace and back into the kitchen, where the pandemonium continues.

Crow feels his head loll on his neck, feeling sick and disoriented at the feelings of existing and not existing at the same time, and swallows down bile when they land on the kitchen linoleum in a heap. He doesn’t want to vomit into his respirator, but if Lilith keeps pulling him into a trace, the choice is going to be taken from them both.

Landing in a tangle of limbs and tentacles, they hit the ground hard, and Crow is jostled into Lilith, accidently elbowing her hard in the ribs. It knocks the air from her lungs, causing her to wheeze, as Felix struggles to get Evie off him.

Nightmare’s tentacles are still wound around Lilith’s ankles, as she tries to frantically pull them loose and to catch her breath, and Crow can only watch as she tangles them further. Nightmare is hissing for Lilith to stop struggling, while Sloan tries to shove Felix off her leg, but Evie’s body is blocking him, and Crow can only watch the madness with wide, unbelieving eyes.

“What the fuck is going on?” Felix hissed trying, and failing, to dislodge Evie, grunting when she accidentally kneed him in the inner thigh as she tried to wriggle her way out of the pile.

Lilith made a frustrated noise, trying to push off Nightmare with one hand while clinging to Crow with the other, “There’s something in the house!” she snapped, sounding angry at last and that’s something Crow can understand.

Felix huffs, “What thing!” he grunts, getting a leg free, “And why the fuck where you in the closet.” He snapped.

An awful-sweet voice called from above, cruel and nasty, “I’m sure you’ve spent your fair share of time in the closet, _lover-boy_.”

Crow frowns, tipping his skull up to glare at his brother, his husky voice lost to Evie’s new shriek, “That’s rude Phantom.”

Felix’s eyes narrow on his brother at the jab, not moving as Evie turned to hide into his side, and Crow can feel Lilith tensing again to trace away. Reaching out over Crow’s head, Felix manages to grab Lilith by the shoulder, holding her back, “Lilith stop, it’s,” he heaves a sigh, “Evie, _stop_ screaming. It's just a fucking ghost.”

Lilith’s eyes go wide, like she was offended, and she kicks her brother’s ankle, “It’s _a fucking_ ghost.” She snaps back.

 _That_ , makes Felix roll his eyes, “Oh Fate help me.” He snapped at her, urging Evie up, “Ghosts can’t hurt you! Watch!”

Scrambling to his feet, Felix manages to free himself from both Evie and Sloan, the former quickly stepping back as Felix stepped forward.

“See! Look!” he snapped, swatting at Phantom’s face, causing him to hiss as the image was distorted, like a reflection in a pool of water, “It fucking smells like shit, but it can’t hurt you.”

Lilith makes a noise like an angry cat when she finally frees herself from Nightmare’s coils, scrambling to her feet with the iron grip on Crow still strong. She’s still holding him from under his arms, and he’s as limp as a teddy bear as she steps back, and he hopes she doesn’t trace again, “You can’t beat a ghost Felix!”

Rolling his eyes again, Felix makes another show of putting his hand through Phantom’s face, “Girl.” He snapped at her, “So what if you can’t hit your way out of this one! You faced down Chara, how the fuck are you freaking out?”

Lilith’s face goes red, and whether it was with embarrassment or anger, Crow wasn’t sure, but he stays limp in her hold. She seems to need him near by, and this is what Crew mates did when one of theirs were panicking, “Sloan dealt with Chara. I just kept Sans from panicking! So, I couldn’t.”

Phantom’s threats of death and dismemberment fell on deaf ears, and Felix made another frustrated noise, “Oh my _gods_ , you can not be serious.” Felix snapped, his arm passing through Phantom again, earning another hiss.

Crow thought, by the way Lilith held him so tightly, as if she thought Phantom was a threat to him, that yeah, she was fucking serious.

Pulling herself to her feet, Sloan smooth’s out the folds of her skirt, “I will fucking deal with it.” She huffed, angry and annoyed, her eyes shimmering blue while magic sparked at her fingers.

“Thank you!” Felix huffed again, side stepping to get out of the way, eyes narrowed on Lilith as he stepped next to her, helping pull Nightmare to his feet, “I can’t believe you hid in the closet.” He hissed to her.

It earned him a glare, and Lilith punched him in the shoulder hard enough to make him wince, and Crow huffed a laugh. It makes Sloan roll her eyes at her siblings, before she turned back to the thing before her, magic at her fingers.

A thick, heavy tentacle shot out, wrapping gently around her wrist, easing Sloan back, “Sloan.” Nightmare’s voice is soft and raspy, like leaves blowing over the sidewalk, “Please do not harm Phantom.”

Everything suddenly stills, although Crow doesn’t know why, still limp and along for the ride with Lilith, blinking slowly at the space around them. It only dawns on him then, that the mages may have seen his brother as a threat, without any prior warning.

“What the fuck is a Phantom?” The sheer irritation in Lilith’s tone tells Crow he’s probably right, and he’s guessing by the too blank expression on Nightmare’s face, he may have _forgotten_ to mention his little quirk with his brother to them.

“Phantom.” He explains slowly, and behind Sloan his brother gives them a broken, toothy smile, “Is Crow’s brother. His _Papyrus.”_

Lilith shook her head no, squeezing Crow just a little tighter, “No, his brother is dead.” She snapped, making Crow chuff a laugh.

Nightmare nods, “He is. He is very much dead. You see, in Crow’s world, in this particular rendition of Sans falling into madness after too many genocide runs, and turning his world to dust, his brother loved him very much.”

Behind them, Phantom grins, broken and a mockery of Papyrus’s grin, but a grin nonetheless. “And Papyrus refused to move on without Sans. His magic, his _soul,_ or what was left of it, clung to Crow.”

“Like a virus.” Lilith spat, glaring hard at Phantom, and it earned her a darker grin with his mouth turned up cruelly.

“More like a symbiotic relationship.” Nightmare gently corrected, easing Sloan back to the group. “Phantom can not live without Crow, and,” he hesitates, an azure eye light flicking to Crow himself, “I doubt Crow would live without his brother.”

“So.” Nightmare shrugs slowly, “When I found Crow, Phantom was more addicted to LV then he was, was the one to push Crow harder into collecting it. To help stabilize him, I forced Phantom into hibernation, hidden within Crow’s very essence. Crow could feel him, but the constant nagging of his brother would be gone. It was the more optimal solution for all involved.”

“So.” Sloan started slowly, her fingers playing with the top of Nightmare’s tentacle, “We can’t get rid of him then?”

Shaking his head no, Nightmare shrugs, “I fear the shock would kill Crow, and drag him down.”

There’s another beat, before Felix asks, “So. It was probably Phantom that made Crow snap then. When he tried to kill me?”

There’s another pause, and Nightmare’s mouth parts as if to say, _ah,_ “Yes, that would make sense. If Phantom had awoken, even partially, he would have beaten Crow’s mental walls down until he didn’t know where he was.”

“ _Nightmare!”_ Lilith finally hisses, eyes gleaming crimson, drawing a small uptick of Nightmare’s mouth in amusement, “This is _critical,_ need to know, _information!”_

“An oversight.” He told her gently to placate her, his grin no less amused.

“An oversight!” Lilith hissed back at him, her arms still tight around Crow, even as her brother’s expression tipped into amusement.

“And now you know.” He reassured, earning another noise of frustration from the mage.

“Nightmare!” she hissed, and it makes him grin a little wider.

“Yes well, now you know. And its time for Phantom to return to sleep.” Nightmare told them easily enough, earning a hiss from Phantom, and a whining that he didn’t want to go to sleep yet.

Phantom was having fun acting as the resident spook.

Lilith too, pulled Crow away from the reaching tentacles, glares hard in her hesitation. It makes Nightmare frown, and his head tilted, “I understand your hesitation Lilith, but this is for the best.” He pauses before adding, “For both of them.”

Felix snorts and nudges his sister, “Come on Lil. It's time to put the Genie back in its bottle.” He laughs, earning a scathing look from Lilith that could have peeled paint. Felix’s expression is bright as ever, making Lilith huff at them.

She looks to Nightmare, searching for any hint of a lie before she tips her head down to Crow, as if asking him what he wanted.

That makes him feel squishy inside, and light pink smoke puffs up when he pats her arm, staring up at her with her bondeds face, “So’kay Lilith.” He swings his legs a little, tilting his head into the side of her arm, laying on what charm he still had, “I won’t let Phantom hurt ya.”

That softens her a little, and her shoulders slump even when she looks back up to glare at Nightmare, “Fine.” She spits, “But I’m staying with him until Gore gets up.”

Grinning, Nightmare nods, stepping back as she storms from the kitchen so she can stomp to the nearest living room, Phantom on her heels, giggling in his weird, mean spirited way, “As you wish.”

Felix, still laughing follows along, and Sloan brings up the rear, leaving Evie to follow along helplessly. Shaking her head, their Coven leader mutters, “This is the most fucked up Den.” Before she moves to follow along.

No one disagrees, and the kitchen is left blessedly silent.

-

Peeking into the living room, Sans tilts his head, feeling the pulse of _annoyance/concern_ from his soul bonded mate, and frowns when he sees the back of Lilith’s head, her ponytail pulled high into a loose rope.

The television is on, but the volume is a low murmur, and the soft blue light washes over Lilith gently. Sans’s white eye lights glance to the arm of the chair, where her head had dropped into her hand and magic sparked at her fingers.

Red eases up to Sans’s side, pressing into his back, his chin on Sans’s shoulder, “She okay?”

Pressing into the bond a little harder, Sans feels the outer annoyance but there’s a layer of fear hidden beneath it, deeper then concern, worry _for_ rather then of. Sans shrugs, “She’s worried.” He muttered back to their claimed mate, pressing back into Red’s hips.

Nodding, Red presses his mouth into the back of Sans’s shoulder, humming softly, his hands landing on Sans’s hips, pulling him back towards Red’s body, “Whadda we do?” he husked against the back of Sans’s neck, drawing a pleasant shiver from him.

Sans smirks, “Come on.” He bumps his hips back against Red’s, drawing out his own shiver and it makes Sans grin, “Lets go cuddle.”

Rolling his eye lights, Red makes a disapproving noise, but follows along mildly, his socked feet scuffing into the carpet.

He shuffles along behind Sans, coming around the couch to find Lilith glaring holes into the screen, Crow and Gore in a tangle of limbs as they clung to each other, mostly asleep on Lilith then off of her. She’s got them both tucked into her torso, and an arm wrapped around them both tightly, her hand clinging to Crow’s sweater a little tighter then normal.

Still, Sans manages a grin, despite the unease he feels from his mate, “Heya Evil Mage.” He sing songs to her, his soul singing out to hers, and as her crimson eyes tip to his, he feels her soften and relax instantly.

“Hey love.” Her voice is low, yet, Crow still stirs under her hand, muttering incoherently before settling down.

Sans grins, Red at his heels as they climb onto the couch, Sans first to press himself into her side, and Red hesitating, eye lights darting around as if he didn’t belong before following. He pressed himself into Sans’s side, taking his position to guard his flank, and, as Red saw it, the outermost position from Lilith, leaving Sans to be closest to her.

He knows that Underfell hierarchy won’t fly with the mage, but some habits are hard to shake and as Lilith’s first chosen mate and her fucking bonded, Sans gets the closest position. Its fine with Red, just means more bone on bone action for him, and he presses into Sans’s side.

They relax, pressing into the mage, and Lilith shifts so the arm that once held her chin was now secured around Gore and Crow, allowing the other to curl around Red and Sans.

“Where’s Edge?” Sans asked quietly, trying not to disturb the others.

It makes Lilith sigh, “Out with Sin. They’re looking at something in the territory.” The _for her_ is unspoken, but Sans knows its there.

He hums an agreement, shifting to better accommodate Red against him for optimum snuggles, “Soo,” he starts, glancing to the back of Crow’s covered skull, “How’s Crow?”

Lilith’s eyes harden and she makes a noise at the back of her throat, “Nightmare told you?”

“Nah,” Sans smirks, “Red filled me in.”

His words make Lilith nod, frowning as she looks down at Crow’s sleeping form and there’s a pulse of concern again from her, one that’s echoed back from Sans with love.

“Nightmare got Phantom back to sleep, but not before Felix dared him to jump in his body to _prove_ that ghosts aren’t dangerous.” She rolls her eyes hard, huffing a sigh, “Phantom lasted ten seconds in Felix’s fucked up head before the demon chased him out, which only agitated Crow more.”

That makes Red snort and Sans grin, but the sudden blurt of anger from Lilith makes him hesitate. She’s watching Crow too intensely, her eyes are too hard and her mouth pulled into a hard angry line as she watches him sleep.

Red notices it too, looking up from where he’s tucked himself into Sans’s side, looking up at her from under his brow. When she speaks, its quiet and angry, her eyes narrowed and hard, “Its not fair.” She said suddenly, anger in her tone and in the bond.

Sans shares a quick look with Red, confusion in both of their expressions and Sans shrugs. Lilith continues, not seeing the exchange, knowing she’s safe with her mates, “None of this. Not what happened to Crow. Or Gore.” She hissed angrily, the color of her eyes dropping into a deeper crimson, “Or Sin. Or Red. None of it is right.”

“It’s not fair, that the multiverse turned their backs on you all, on others _like_ you. Then condemned you. Condemned _him_ ,” she nods to Crow, still asleep, breathing deeply, “and for what? Its not _fair_.”

Sans squeezes in tight to her, pressing his thinner body into Lilith’s as he presses support and affection into their bond, but it’s Red’s rough, even voice that answers, “Its not.” He agrees quietly, “The deaths that Crow endured until it broke his mind and killed his bro, aint fair. The years of starvation that Gore endured _aint fair._ Ripper driven to madness until he destroyed his own world, _aint_ fair. Whatever the fuck happened to Nightmare, _aint_ fair.”

He looked up at her, his words stilling both Sans and Lilith, “It’s not fair. The multiverse is a cruel, savage place, and there are fates worse then ours. That doesn’t make it okay. Or right, and we had to be cruel and savage to survive.”

“But angel dust, you have us now. And I aint lying when I say, no one else in their right fucking mind would do for us what you did.” That makes both Lilith and Sans snort, and Red grins, “You have us now. You gave us someplace safe to stay, and heal and,” his face goes red and he stumbles over his words, “And shit.”

He presses his head back into Sans’s shoulder, leaving them to stare at him, his face pulsing in time with his soul as he suddenly feels too hot, “So, don’t fucking discount that.”

Sans laughs softly, clanking his teeth into his skull in a quick kiss before he settled back into Lilith’s side, “Wow Red, that’s gotta be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to us.”

Red snorts, “Your welcome.” He yawns, “Now stop bitching about the past.”

Lilith blinks at them, watches them press into her side and _relaxes_.

Glancing to Crow again, she settles into the couch letting them nap on and around her, and Lilith knows Red is right.

She can’s change their past, but she sure as fuck can secure their future.


	49. It's a Little Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Red go into their heat.
> 
> They have a great time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> New week, new chapter, and this chapter is the HEAT chapter. I know a few of my friends have been waiting for this one for some time, so I do hope you all enjoy it >:3 
> 
> As always, thank you all for your continued support of this story, I appreciate it so much. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> WARNING: Sticky sex, smut, this is a smut/heat chapter. Some light bondage, reflection of past abuse, mild but there.

Swinging into the dining room, Red pauses with a frown, his skull tilting at what he’s seeing, and blinks hard to make sure what he’s seeing is real.

At the table, Lilith and Sans are side by side, stacks of paper carefully laid out before them, Lilith’s neat block like writing indicating that she had, unsurprisingly, done the work. Sans is looking over a list, making little check marks next to each word that Lilith has carefully written out, focusing really hard on his task, his tongue caught in his teeth as he focuses.

He’s fucking adorable, and it suddenly catches up with Red that Sans is _his._ Not his alone, but something better, part of his family, his mate and his brother’s mate. Red bites his tongue lightly, careful of his teeth as he glances to Lilith. 

The mage is sitting tall in her chair next to Sans, lean and utterly perfect in Red’s eyes. She’s beautiful, with the sun shining through her bright reddish hair, illuminating it like fire, and making her silvery freckles sparkle.

He needed to chat with his brother about getting them both in collars, they’d both look so damn lovely in their colours, with delicate leather adorning the slim column of their throats.

Shoving the thought away, Red glances to Crow, who’s pressed into Lilith’s side, and Gore, who’s pressed into Crow. Red frowns at them, but not out of jealously. No, he has no reason to be, he already won the girl and the boy, and these were Lilith’s Den mates as much as they were Crew. Lilith, who was a battle mage and bonded through touch, was snuggling with her Den mates.

That was all, no harm, no foul.

Still, what the hell where they up to?

“Watch’ya doing?” Red asked casually, shuffling to the table, drawing the gazes of his mates to him, and his soul pulses happily when they both smile at _him._

It’s still a weird feeling for him, to be wanted, to be _kept,_ and not just someone’s plaything or dirty little secret. Red was cherished with them, adored, he was lo…

Red was liked, and that was more then he would ever have asked for.

A grin curls at Sans’s mouth, and his eye lights sparkle in that way that tells Red that the hamster in his head was running full tilt on that wheel of his. No doubt, Sans was going to say or do some bull shit that’s going to affect Red.

It surprises him still, how easily he fit in with them, how readily he slotted into place with Lilith and Sans, like he was always here. Or always meant to be, but Red isn’t sentimental enough to believe in Fate like Lola does, or that anything other then dumb luck brought them together.

Still, even someone as cynical as Red can see how easy he fit in here with them and how happy they made him. How happy they were to have he and his brother. How they never hesitated to drag either of them along for what ever bullshit they were into at that moment, and Red already could read both Sans and Lilith to know when they were up to no good.

Sans looks back to his paper with his wide grin and sparkling eye lights that seem to make Red’s knees go weak, “What month is it Red?” he asks mildly, maybe a little too mild.

He pauses, thinking hard as the tips of his mouth fall a little, “Uh. July?” he wonders allowed. The girls had gotten out of school for summer break not long after their triumphant return home and Lilith had told them about the Coalition of United Non-mage Magical Creatures. It meant security was tightened and for now at least, the girls couldn’t play with Asriel.

Not at his parent’s homes at the very least, and knowing the truth of it, Red was fine with that.

Sans, the asshole that he was, and Red plainly ignores that fact that Sans is his favorite asshole, smiles wider, “Anything, _special_ happening in July?”

The mildness in his voice makes Red frown, like Sans is expecting Red to know what the fuck they’re going on about. He racks his non-existent brains for the answer, but stares back at Sans’s smirking face with wide sockets and a shrug.

“We’re planning for our heat!” Gore suddenly says brightly from Crow’s side, and Red is caught off guard that he said it so brightly, so smoothly without stuttering or his voice catching, that it takes a minute for his brain to catch up with what he just said.

Then it catches up with him, and Red’s breath catches.

It feels like his soul was dunked in an ice bath, and he can’t quite get his words passed the lump in his throat. He curls his hands into tightly packed fists to hide their trembling, but he can’t stop his eye lights from guttering out.

“Red?” Lilith’s voice is hesitant as she calls to him, drawing Sans’s sockets back up to him and his mouth tips in a frown, “Are you okay hun?”

Red takes a shaky breath, trying to unwedge his throat, aiming for nonchalant, “’m fine.” He mutters, dropping his gaze and forcing his eye lights back.

Lilith and Sans share a significant look and Red isn’t stupid enough to think they weren’t talking about him when Lilith’s eyes flash blue and Sans’s flash red. They both pin him with a look that sends a shiver down his spine and he wonders if this is what prey feels like.

He isn’t stupid, they know about some of his hang ups, knows about enough of them in any case to make a guess that his heat, wasn’t always the most enjoyable thing in the world. Not when he was at Asgore’s beck and call, not when Asgore could demand things of him. Asgore could demand things of his body, that the King took as his due, as if he had any right to Red’s body.

It had…

_Don’t think about Asgore._

Red looks back to his mates and grins, but he knows his smirk doesn’t reach his sockets and its tight. Too tight to be anything but a rictus near snarl, and Red knows his mates _know_ he’s got some trauma when it comes to sex, and know they now know he’s got some with his heat.

Neither of them, however, make mention of his expression or the sudden aggression in his stance, and he swears he fucking loves them _both,_ when they stare back at him neutrally as if he weren’t falling apart. Treating him as if he weren’t fucking broken and that something that should be so easy to him, _hurt_.

“I’m going over the supply list with Gore and Crow. They’re mimicking what I usually get for Sans and I.” she speaks plainly, as if this was second nature to _her_ despite not being a monster. She doesn’t look away from Red, giving him her undivided attention, and he eases at it.

Red knows that Lilith and Sans would never, ever hurt him, even when he was in a vulnerable position.

“We’re going through snacks, what juices have the most bang for their buck,” and Sans snickers at the word _bang_ , but Lilith ignores him with just a smile, “what needs to be kept cold and what canned goods will give the best energy.” She explained, and it slowly clicks in Red’s panicked brain that they’re talking about how to ride this out without having to leave the rooms as much.

Lilith is in caretaker mode, and that helps ease Red as well. If he’s trapped in his heat, Lilith wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, or take advantage. Lilith wouldn’t take advantage of him, even if he told her it was okay.

He takes a step towards them with a frown, “A supply list?” Gore grins from Crow’s side, and nods, “Like water and food?” he asks slowly.

“Yes.” Gore tells him roughly, tracking Red as he takes another step, moving to go sit on Sans’s other side, “Food…to keep us…stable. While we work our…” Gore still struggles with his words, but they come slowly to him and he concentrates hard, “Work out…our heats.”

He grins brightly at Crow, before adding, “I’m going to…fuck Crow…until he can’t walk straight.”

It makes Lilith snort as her eye’s tip back towards the paper as Red eases into the seat next to Sans, and he leans into his mate with a frown. Gore’s words bring a scalding blush to Crow’s face, and he hides himself in the ruff of his hood.

“And Lilith…Lilith is going to. Going to talk to…Sloan. She’s going to get…a sleeping draught for. My brother.” Gore added brightly, “So he…won’t suffer.”

That more then anything helps ease Red, and he relaxes. Of course Lilith was going out of her way to make sure Sugar would ride his heat out comfortably. The mage nods, handing the list to Crow, and offers them the slightest upturn of her mouth as a grin, “I will. Papyrus’s heat is usually a few days after Sans’s. I’ll be able to make sure Sugar is resting comfortably while you rest, and I’ll check in on him until your up.”

They both nod, and Red isn’t sure he can remember a time that Gore looked so honestly, truly _delighted,_ “Thanks Lilith.” Gore added, shy in his words.

Lilith nodded, “Of course Gore. I’m hoping to talk to Edge too, before Sans’s heat but he’s being cagey.” Red doesn’t doubt that for a second, no doubt his brother knew exactly how many hours until his heat started and was probably freaking out.

“Okay you two, why don’t you go pop into the kitchen and get your supplies. The cooler’s in there already.” Lilith told them, and they both give leering looks to Red before they both grin and thank Lilith.

“Have fun Red.” Crow calls over his shoulder as they shuffle to the kitchen, and Red glares at them both as they shuffle out, and Crow’s grin widens when Red flips him off.

“Okay kitten.” Sans purrs softly next to Red, drawing his gaze back to his mates and to stop glaring at his Crew mates, and he feels another sense of dread when he looks to them.

Sans seems to see his sudden spike of anxiety, his deep unease, and softens, bumping his shoulder into Red’s, “So. We’re sorta wondering what your plans are for your heat.” He asked Red lightly, and Red’s sockets dropped, moody and standoffish to hide his fear.

He doesn’t think about how, when his first heat hit just at the cusp of adulthood, and before Asgore sunk his claws into him, Muffet had tried to ruin him. The things she had done….

Red shakes the thought away and presses harder into Sans.

Lilith stood to switch seats, so he was between them, safe and warm, and when she speaks, her words are slow as Sans presses back into him, “You don’t need to spend it with us Red.” She reassures as an arm goes around his narrow shoulders, and that _choice_ eases something in Red.

“It’s like with Sugar.” She promises, “If you would rather be asleep for your heat, I’ll get a sleeping draught from Sloan and put you in your room and lock the door. I’ll come check up on you when I’m done with Sans, and make sure your safe. No one will touch you, I promise.” It’s a promise, a fucking vow that Red believes full heartedly from her. If Lilith said no one would touch him, then no one would fucking lay hands on him.

That eases Red further, and he gathers his waning courage to quietly, embarrassedly, mutter into the table, “I wanna spend it wit’ the two of you.”

He can’t bare to look at their expressions, but he manages to bite back the grin that nearly sparks at his mouth when their souls both sing back to his with affection and excitement.

“Okay.” Lilith tells him gently, her fingers running up and down his shoulder soothingly, “We’d like to have you with us too.”

There’s no lie in her voice, not with how loudly her soul is singing to his, a steady hum of acceptance and affection, and it makes Red feel warm with fondness he wasn’t used to feeling. He relaxes, and knows he’s safe.

“What about Edge?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain. If it came down to it, Red would spend the time asleep if that meant that Edge got what he wanted and had a chance with their mates.

Sans knocks their skulls together, “Don’t worry, Lilith thought about that too.” He reassures, and Red tips his head up to her.

Leaning down, she presses a kiss between Red’s sockets before she goes onto explain, “Edge _should_ follow Papyrus’s heat cycle. Typically, Paps starts a day or two after Sans’s finishes.” She shrugs, “When we first came to the surface, Papyrus was a little early and Sans was late, so there was a lot of overlap, but the last two haven’t been.”

She shrugs, “Sans will be down and out, but I’ll be fine with a restoration potion. I won’t let your brother suffer Red. I’ll take care of Edge, and either see him through it or give him a sleeping draught.” She reassured, “Whatever his preference is. I just need him to talk to me.”

That helped Red relax, to know Edge would be cared for and not left to suffer. He manages a slick grin, “Ya really sure ya can handle all that Lili? That’s a tall order.”

She grins at him, “Well it’s a good thing it's not in short supply.”

Red blinks at her as Sans snorts, and he knows she’s poking fun at his height. It makes Red grin up at her, and the gentle teasing is as much as flirting in Underfell as flowers were here.

“I’ll be fine.” She reassured, adding, “And Grillby has agreed to take the girls for the week. They’re very excited about their sleep over with Fuku. Ryder is going to drop them off tomorrow.”

Red relaxes, and at least the kids won’t be going to Toriel’s any time soon, “So it's all taken care of.” Red said slowly, glancing between them.

“Almost.” Sans chimes in from his other side, snuggling into the line of Red’s body, “We just need to talk about you now.” Lilith nods as Red freezes up.

“Me?” he asks slowly, the tension returning to his body, winding him tightly.

Sans nods, “Mhmm.” He gently slides the list he was looking at over to Red, “See kitten, Lilith and I have _rules_. Things that we are and are not allowed to do to each other. We know where our lines are before my heat even starts, so there’s no question once its in effect.”

Lilith nods, “I know exactly where my line is, and I don’t cross it when Sans is in his heat. I know what he likes, and what we agreed on when he’s in a clear frame of mind.”

Red looks down at the paper, “So.” He says slowly, “It’s a list of do’s and do not’s?”

Sans shrugs, “Basically.” He agrees, all soft and pliable, and it makes something warm touch his soul, “Now we just need to know what you like. What, uh,” he hesitates and blushes, “What do you want?”

Red glances down at Sans’s lists of what he likes, what he was agreeing too, going into his heat, _praise, marking or claiming, begging, vibrater_ and some things Sans didn’t like, _wax play, objectification, being tied down._

Things they had talked about, and things Sans didn’t want, and Red can appreciate the openness between them. Nothing was off the table for discussion between them, and Red tries to be as open.

He struggles with the words to tell them what he wants. What he would like to happen, and they’re both very quiet while they wait for him to sort out his feelings.

“After care is not optional.” Lilith tells him suddenly, glancing at Sans’s list, leaning a little more into Red, and he nods. He didn’t doubt for a second that battle mage instinct wouldn’t let her rest until she was certain they were both okay and well taken care of.

Swallowing hard, Red gathers his courage and speaks in a hushed, nearly ashamed voice. Lilith and Sans pull in close to listen carefully, pouring support in from both sides, when he finally mutters, “I always wanted to be tied down.”

Lilith nods as Sans reaches for a new page in their book, looking at him with an encouraging smile. It makes Red feel unfairly hot, totally supported and _listened_ to. Like they would take his word as gospel, and they wouldn’t do a goddamned thing to him that he didn’t tell them was okay before hand.

Encouraged, Red speaks quietly, if a little hesitantly, and only with the secure knowledge that Sans and Lilith wouldn’t laugh at him or use this against him, “I ah. Like. I like. I want my nipples to be teased but uh. I don’t like, being.” He doesn’t know why he’s so hesitant, and maybe it's because Lilith and Sans are so understanding. So caring that Red knows they lo…

They really like him.

“I don’t like to be humiliated or degraded.” He admits, and any shame is quickly washed away by Lilith’s arm around him and the supportive squeeze.

He’s okay here. He’s safe here.

He knows he is when they don’t tell him he’s being stupid or to suck it up. He knows he safe when they pull in tight to his sides, and _listen_ to him. Red knows he’s going to be taken care of when Lilith nuzzles into the side of this throat, pressing a kiss to the tip of his shoulder affectionately, and Sans keeps writing down everything he says.

Red _knows_ he’s going to be alright.

-

Red’s anxious when he comes to his own room, pausing outside the door with another rush of nerves, and already he can feel heat crawling through his bones.

He knows it's going to be fine, he knows Lilith and Sans won’t go back on their word with the things they’ve promised not to do to him when he was vulnerable. Its still hard, to allow himself to be in a vulnerable position when his whole life being vulnerable meant being hurt, and that meant hiding it.

Too many years in Underfell, too many _experiences_ where Asgore or Muffet or one of their lackeys had been given the upper hand and allowed to hurt him. Heats became a thing to be feared, hidden away from sight and if you were lucky, no one would find out.

Red wasn’t that lucky, and Asgore, the bastard that he was, kept careful track of his heats, only to summon him at the start of everyone. Asgore saw it as his due, his right to Red’s body, his right to claim his _Judge._

Too bad the other guy hated Asgore too, just never had anyone to swear loyalty to in his place like Sansy had, and they both suffered for it.

Red pushes the thought of Underfell away and takes a breath, long and slow, through his teeth before he reaches for the brass doorknob, and lets himself in.

Lilith and Sans are already there, setting everything up, and Red feels an unfair bolt of arousal when they both look up at him and _grin._ Sans already has a pretty blue blush splashed over his cheeks, and his eye lights are already brighter then usual.

The heat has already sunk into his bones as well, and it sends a shiver down Red’s spine. He can _smell_ Sans from where he was, and it sends a bolt of arousal down to his pelvis.

“You okay Red?” Lilith’s voice breaks his hyper focus from Sans, drawing his own overly bright eye lights to her, and Red nods.

She’s by his bed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, standing lose and ready, not concerned at all. He glances downwards, his face heating when he realizes she’s not wearing a bra and her pert breasts are heavy in her shirt. He swallows hard when he sees her nipples are already hard, tenting through the thin material of her shirt.

Red swallows again, and looks up, “Fine.” But it doesn’t come out nearly as confident as he wants it too, and he winces when his voice creeks.

This is stupid, he knows. They’ve already had sex, he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous already.

Still, Lilith and Sans grin at him, safe behind the walls of their home, and its Sans who slowly meanders his way to Red, threading his arms around Red’s waist. He lowers his skull, nuzzling into the side of Red’s, his rusty purr making his voice thick, “It’s okay, come on.”

It helps put Red at ease, and his shoulders loosen as Sans nuzzles into the side of his neck, pressing a kiss into the space between where his shoulder and throat meet. Red sighs into the touch, his sockets sinking shut as Sans’s hands go up to his shoulders and urges his jacket off.

It falls to the ground in a pool of leather and fur, and Red moans when Sans rocks his hips into Red’s, Sans is already hard in his shorts and it makes Red smirk into their kiss. He breaks it only to mouth off, “That a banana in your pocket or you happy to see me?”

No one makes mention of the gentleness of his voice or the sweetness in his tone when Red grins down at Sans, earning him a bright smirk.

“I fucking should have shoved a banana down my pants.” Sans sighs, pressing his body into Red’s, his bones already hot to the touch, “What a wasted opportunity.” He sighs into Red’s neck.

Huffing a laugh, Red’s arms go around Sans’s shoulders, pulling him in tightly, pressing his nasal aperture into Sans’s shoulder, taking a deep, slow breath, breathing him in, sending a rush of arousal to his already hot bones. Magic swirls heavily in his pelvis, and Red can’t help but rock against Sans.

It causes a full body shiver to run down the length of Sans’s body, and his grip on Red tightens, “We should,” his breath is hot on Sans’s bones, and his mate shivers in his arms, grinning up at Red with a too wide smile as the heat starts to take hold of them, “We should go see Lilith.”

The suggestion makes Sans shiver again, and he bucks weakly into Red’s pelvis. It makes Lilith laugh softly from where she’s perched on the end of his bed, drawing their attention to her. She’s leaning back on her hands, her long legs crossed at the knee as she watches them with bright ruby eyes.

Her grin is surprisingly soft directed at them, a little sly as she watches them from the safety of their room. Lilith’s head tilts and she glances to Sans, “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve got great seats. But, you should kiss him more.” She tells Sans casually, the leg that’s crossed over bounces lightly, and Red can see the flush of arousal in her cheeks.

Reaching down for him, Sans guides Red’s mouth back to his, pressing into Red’s in a hot kiss, licking into his mouth. Red sighs into their kiss, coating his razor-sharp teeth in a cushion of magic so he didn’t cut Sans as he parts his jaws, letting Sans in. He tastes like something sour-sweet, like sour patch kids, or some kind of soft candy that makes Red’s head spin.

As cheesy as it sounds, as stupid as it sounds, Sans tastes like what Red always thought freedom would taste like. Soft and sweet, warm under his hands, something that melts in his mouth and oh so pliable.

Already the heat is making his head fuzzy and soft, way too sentimental, and he leans into it way to easily without a fight. Red doesn’t have to fight it, not with Sans and Lilith, and when Sans takes a fist full of his shirt to drag him across the room, Red goes willingly.

Leading Red across the room, Sans backed up, his mouth still hot on Red’s in a kiss that was becoming more desperate with every unsteady step. Sans tugged him across the room until the backs of his knees bumped into the bed next to Lilith, and her hands went to Sans’s shoulders first. 

Her hands travelled up around the apex of his shoulders, up and over his collarbone and down his chest. Already, a fine coat of sweat made his bone sheen with slick, but Lilith doesn’t care as she noses her way under Sans’s chin, pressing an opened mouth kiss to his throat.

He gasps into his kiss with Red, who delightfully takes advantage of the situation; with a grin his tongue slips between Sans’s teeth, deepening their kiss until it has Sans panting and moaning between he and Lilith. His heavy length already beading with fluid and Sans again rocks up into Red’s hot pelvis.

More magic gathers heavily in Red’s pelvic girdle, and its hot to the touch when Sans reaches for the space between his legs, pressing in carefully with the heel of his hand, earning a startled gasp from Red. Its enough for his echo to snap into place, his cock heavy in his pants, straining against the material of his shorts.

He feels a flush of embarrassment when he feels his soaking pussy snapping into place behind his cock, empty and wet already, and Red flushes at the feeling of having both. He had never thought of using both in a heat, Asgore had only wanted his cunt, and it had been a moment of expanding his mind when Sans told him they would play with both, if he wanted them to.

The sensation of being heavy and empty at the same time is odd, and he rocks into Sans’s hand even as the rest of his echo forms over his bones. His breasts, heavy and full, are back, earning a pleased noise from Lilith as she reaches up to grasp one, perfect for her hand and she rolls her thumb over an already hard nipple through his thin shirt.

Red trembles as Sans breaks their kiss, and he takes a moment to just _stare_ , appreciating how impossible this all was. How he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve _them_ and yet here he was.

Lilith was leaning over Sans, draped across his back, her legs spread so that her knees were on either side of his hips. Red swallows when he sees she’s not wearing panties, her shorts giving an unfair hint at the silky skin between her legs, and it makes him feel stupidly nervous.

It doesn’t make sense, they’d already seen each other naked, and their heat shouldn’t make it any fucking different.

He lifts his gaze to their faces, soft as they stare up at him, Lilith leaning into Sans’s shoulders, pressed into his spine as she tilts her head into his. They’re doing that weird bond talk thing again, and their eyes flash with conversation.

It should make Red feel nervous, unwanted, but the thought never gets the chance to be allowed to take root, not with Sans’s hand teasing him through his shorts, and Lilith reaching for him.

They’re tugging him into the bed, his bed…their bed, and he goes willingly with them. He’s safe here, he knows.

Lilith pulls him down into the bed between her and Sans, he goes willingly with his spine against Sans’s front while his breast presses into Lilith as she leans down to kiss him.

Red is trembling between them already, and he blames his damn heat as Lilith slides a hand up his shirt to touch his echo directly. He gasps into their kiss as she thumbs a nipple again, as behind him, Sans reaches around his waist, pushing his hand down his pants to wrap it around his heavy cock.

His thumb plays with the piercing in the head, making Red tremble and jerk in their hold, and Lilith makes a delighted sound when he hesitantly slips his own hand up her shirt, mimicking the touch she’s doing to him.

His hands are unsteady and unpracticed with a human body, but Lilith sighs into their kiss, sending another bolt of affection to his soul and another gush of fluid down his thighs. Its slow and easy, nothing’s forced to quick, and its nothing like his time spent with Asgore, as they roll him over onto his back between them. Sans has his head dipped down to Red’s collar bone, licking and nuzzling the long-gone bite mark, murmuring against Red’s bones how lovely he was.

Its unfair, Red thinks, that Sansy gets to say that while he and his bonded are touching him at the same time, using their damned bond to pick him apart easily, until he’s trembling between them.

Its unfair, that Lilith helps Sans ease his shorts down and off, allowing his heavy cock to pop free of the fabric. Its unfair how they work as a unit, their gentle hands making quick work of Red’s shirt before they’re laying him back, naked against the bed. It’s very _unfair_ how they can work in tandem to kiss him and nip at his jaw line and down his throat while they each take a wrist, easing his hands into the padded cuffs at the head of the bed.

Unfair, but Red certainly isn’t complaining, even if he was handcuffed, naked to their bed. His legs were sprawled obscenely wide when Sans pets his cock, his grin wide and lazy, at ease with his bonded and his mate. Shivering, Red bucks into his touch when Sans’s thumb circles the ring at the head of his cock as Lilith nuzzles into the side of his skull.

She’s pressing kisses into the bone she can reach, her fingers soft on his belly when she pets him, “This okay?” she asks him nice and soft, her fingers trailing down the midline of his body, and Red sighs with a nod.

Sans keeps mouthing at his collar bone, licking and nipping, and Red arches into his touches desperately. He nods, and remembers, abet, shakily, that Lilith needed verbal confirmation, “Is fine.” He gasps out a little breathless moan when Sans’s bites a little harder at his collar bone.

Lilith hums, as if this is some stellar entertainment, and fuck, for her it probably is. Yet, even now, they’re respecting his wishes, going slow, being fucking _nice_ like he asked them to. Bound him, and it had been Lilith who had paused on the gag for their first heat. Best to ease into these sorts of things.

Her fingers trail the length of his body, brushing at Sans’s hand around his cock while her fingers traveled down to his soaking channel, already begging to be used. Red shivers, swallowing the moan when she slips two fingers into his body, moving slowly until they’re hilted up to the first knuckle.

Leaning in close to Red, Lilith whispers, warm against the side of his mouth, “Tell Sans to take off his clothing.”

Red bucks at her order, shivering at what he’s being told, and he can’t swallow the whine when Lilith eases her fingers out of his body, only to push them back in, “T-take off yo. Your clothes.” Red tells him, drawing Sans’s too bright eye lights back up to him. 

Grinning Sans sits up to do as he’s told, leaning back on his haunches to watch Red with bright white eye lights, and Red’s sure Sans has never listened so fucking well in all his life.

Lilith makes a pleased noise, nosing under Red’s jaw, making a noise of encouragement for Red to add, “Touch yourself.”

Sans shivers, “Bossy fucker.” He tells Red affectionately as Lilith sinks her fingers down to the second knuckle on her third pump, and Red gasps softly, arching with a whine when there’s no one over him to arch into.

Yet, Sans is pulling his shirt over his head, his hand trailing down his scarred ribs, his souvenirs from his time with Chara when she siphoned magic from him in an attempt to stay in this world. Something in Red shivers, delighted by them, a sign of Sans’s strength, when so many others would have given up.

Red’s mates are strong, he knows, a Judge and his Battle Mage, and they chose _him._

And right now, Sans is listening so well to him.

“Good.” Red shivers, still bound by his wrists, and Lilith added a third finger into his soaking cunt, making him groan loudly, earning a delighted noise from his mates. Red fights to keep his knees apart, and he knows if he tells her to stop, or slow down, she will.

He doesn’t doubt her, doesn’t doubt Lilith, or even Sans in his heat, that they wouldn’t not listen to him.

Sans is still touching his ribs, panting hard and his cock is tenting in his shorts, and Red grins at him with a sharp smirk, “Take off your pants.” He manages to make it an order despite how throaty his words are when Lilith spreads her fingers, and another moan swallows his words.

Laughing, Sans does as he’s told, his heavy cock springing free of his shorts, “Fates your bossy when you’re in a _bind._ ”

Lilith snickers into Red’s throat and before he can process what Sans just said, pressing her fingers into his body deeply, her lips brushing against his throat, “Red’s being very _knotty_ , tonight.”

Pleasure is hot and heavy through his body, and Lilith is touching him gently, kinder then anyone else ever has, and Sans is fucking _obeying_ him so prettily, and they’re fucking _punning._ Heat washes over him, low and warm, and it makes his toes curl.

He gasps and arches, his hands fisting overhead into empty air as he comes. He comes hard around Lilith’s fingers with a gush of ruby magic, the fluid slick between her fingers, and she’s working him through it, stretching him open.

Her fingers are still easing in and out, as he rides out his orgasm with a choked groan. Its only when he’s left limp and panting in their bed do they still around him, and he whines when Lilith eases her fingers from his body to lick them clean.

Red can’t see it, his mind is too fuzzy with heat and pleasure, but he can hear her gently licking her fingers.

“Did we just make you cum with a pun?” Lilith asked, far too nonchalantly, far too conversational, and it does nothing to cool his arousal.

“Think we did.” Sans says over him, his own magic hot and hard between his legs, his upper body bear of his echo as Lilith pets his sternum.

Red wants to tell them both to fuck off, but their warm and soft on either side of him, leaning in to watch him with their heads together, looking far too pretty. They grin, despite how Sans’s face is flushed with heat and magic, and yet, Red can’t be offended when they fucking fist bump over his chest.

Lilith turns into Sans’s skull, nuzzling a kiss into his throat that has him sighing at the touch, leaning into her. Red watches, his brain still fuzzy and his pussy feeling empty, as Lilith nuzzles Sans. All he can do is watch her soft tongue lapping at Sans’s throat before she bites down hard enough to make him sigh, his sockets sinking shut in pleasure.

He watches, drunk in his heat already, as Lilith whispers something into Sans’s throat with a grin, as she watches Red, her mouth moving slowly against Sans’s throat, and it makes Sans nod almost desperately.

He moves slowly, breaking apart from Lilith to spread Red’s legs apart, the head of his weeping cock brushing at the pleasantly swollen lips of his pussy, “You okay Red?”

Red finds himself shivering, arching into them, and a small, hidden part of him purrs in delight that they keep checking in on him. Asking if he’s okay, if he’s alright.

He nods, “Fine.” He slurs, his eyes overly bright and his bones too hot.

Lilith stretches out next to him as Sans purrs, soft and delighted, as he slowly, achingly slow, sink’s into Reds body. It draws out a groan from them both, the walls of Red’s body fluttering wildly around Sans’s heavy cock, and Red is already cursing softly under his breath.

Lilith pulls out their next toy, and Red nearly comes again as a delightful mix of pleasure and pain mix as she carefully sets the padded nipple clamps onto each one of his. Red arches again, bound and helpless between a bonded pair of mates, gasping softly as Lilith’s fingers brush at the midline of his body, tugging lightly at the chain that connected the clamps.

“Okay?” she asks softly, petting him carefully as Sans takes him.

Red nods, desperately needing Sans to go faster, “Yes.” He gasps, but he doesn’t have the words to ask her to get Sans to fuck him harder.

Still, Lilith looks delighted, and dips down to kiss Red slowly, pressing her tongue into his mouth, laying as much a claim on him as Sans, who was fucking him slow and deep.

They wring another orgasm from him in no time, bringing him to completion with shuttering, breathless moans as Sans’s spurts thick magic into his slick channel. Sans’s coats him inside, _claiming him,_ and Red _knows_ this will be the best heat he’s ever had.

He _knows_ Lilith and Sans will take care of him. He’s trusting them too.

After that thought, Red loses himself to the feeling of pleasure and trust, and lets his heat take over.

-

Waking with a deep sigh, Lilith forces her eye lids open with what feels like a herculean effort.

She’s _tired_ after working through Sans and Red’s heats for two days solid, and her body feels heavy with exhaustion. They had gotten little rest after their heat really started, and she had to force them both to stop to eat and drink something, then get what sleep they could. The twelve hours of solid sleep after their heats had finally dissipated was equal parts not enough and perfect, putting them somewhere around the three-day mark after their rest.

Her body, sore as it was, in all the right ways, was still tired and could do with several hours of sleep still. Her deep well of magic however, was demanding she get up. The sun was up, and the magic in her mana lines were still thick and full of life, energizing her mind and gearing her up.

Her eyes shift up to Red’s clock. It blinked down 7:43AM in bright numbers in the colour of his name sake, and she groaned. Her internal clock kicked her again, urging her up, and instinct reminded her she should shower and dress, that she needed to find Edge and talk to him about his upcoming heat.

His should be a few days out yet, plenty of time to recover, and its for _Edge,_ that Lilith eases up to her elbows with a sigh.

Her body aches in a pleasant way, a reminder of what they had done, and she smirks when she looks down to Red and Sans still asleep. Curled together, Red is between she and Sans.

He’s still raw about the whole, they almost died thing, and when he had settled against her front to sleep, insistently tugging Sans to him, neither had argued. If Red wanted them around, surrounding him tightly, Lilith was fine with that. There was plenty of time for her and Sans to cuddle before they went to help Edge cope.

Groaning softly, Lilith starts to carefully untangle from them, earning a whispered groan from Red as she eases her arm out from under him. Red stirs, a little, his sockets barely open to a slit and the magic in his eye light is diluted to a murky ruby.

There’s a flicker of some other colour, but its there and gone before Lilith can fully catch it. She leans down, pressing a kiss to the side of Red’s shoulder, nuzzling into the bare bone when she whispers, “Go back to sleep Red.”

He blinks slowly, lazily at her, clinging hard to Sans, who had wrapped himself around Red like a koala. It makes Lilith smile, her soul swelling with affection and love, and she feel’s Sans’s fuzzy contentment in his sleep.

“You’re safe hun.” She adds softly, knowing that was likely what Red needed to hear. That he was safe, that she was there, and no one would hurt him.

Red huffs out a long sigh as his sockets sink shut, and he slips back into a peaceful sleep. Curling up with Sans, he presses his nasal ridge into Sans’s skull as if he was huffing their mates scent, and eased fully back into sleep.

Its only when he settles does Lilith slip from the bed, pressing a kiss to both of their skulls, nuzzling in at the bite marks she had left on both of their right shoulders. The one they each lay over her left feels oddly hot, but she’s sure that’s just the flush when she remembers them giving it to her. Red’s mouth had followed along behind Sans’s with those sharp, shark like teeth piercing her shoulder after Sans had bit down hard enough it drew a little blood.

Red’s teeth had let the mark stay a little more stubbornly after her healing trait, and they had both looked so fucking smug about it too.

She whispers good morning to each of them as she stands, only then does she _really_ feel the pleasant ache between her legs when she pulls on her track shorts and tank top. There’s only one place in mind to go this early in the morning.

The hallways are empty on her trip to the bathroom to shower, and that’s not unusual this time of day. Ryder had taken the girls to Grillby’s already, and he was likely getting ready to work through Papyrus’s heat.

The house was quiet, and she figures that she’s the first one awake, and as she gets into the delightful spray of hot water, she wonders how the others faired.

She _knows_ that Gore and Crow are fine, she saw to that herself by setting them up, she would check in on Sugar once she was finished her shower, make sure he was ready to bunker down for the week with the sleeping draughts. 

She wonders how the conversations with her siblings went, and doesn’t doubt for a single moment that they spoke with their mates. After all, they all knew about Sans’s heat, knew he went through it twice a year and that Lilith saw him through it.

She doesn’t consider that they haven’t spoken, as she tries to wash magic out of her reddish hair. Lilith doesn’t even consider the thought that the Crew would allow themselves to go without, in exchange for a week in pain rather then simply deal with the heat and work through it.

Instead, she focuses on getting the thick, purple magic from her hair, and wonders how the hell it got there.

The shower, Lilith decided, was what she needed. Feeling better and _clean_ , she intends to go make breakfast before she wakes up Red and Sans, and then its off to find Edge. He’d been acting squirrely, weirder then usual, before Red and Sans’s heat, and she figured it was because his own was coming up.

She remembered Sans’s first heat, how he had forgotten about it and how he had panicked with it, the trauma too fresh for him to cope, and wonders if that’s why Edge was acting so cagy.

She hoped Sin was okay but didn’t doubt her sisters resolve to protect him and she knew Sloan would get Sin through it.

With any luck, Sin was asleep between her and Nightmare and would wake with the same pleasant ache.

With Edge’s needs in mind, Lilith goes to pull open the bathroom door, and with a spring in her step, is set on making breakfast for her mates.

Pulling the door open, she pauses when she sees Felix. He’s across the hall from the bathroom, arms crossed as he leans back against the wall. Lilith pauses when she sees him, his eyes gleaming bright yellow, but it’s the expression on his face that has Lilith stilling.

His eyes lift when the door opens, and his expression is tight with stress and anger. His eyes crinkle with worry, and he clenches his jaw so tightly, Lilith can see the muscle twitch.

She frowns at him, “Are you okay?” she asks slowly, glancing up and down the hall as if that would have the answers.

She steps slowly out of the steam filled bathroom as Felix pushes off from the wall, his face pinched and Lilith can’t decide if he’s full of fury or worry. It makes tension pull through her, and there’s a snap of magic at her fingers.

Something’s wrong, her instinct sings, somethings not right, Felix is too tense, and he’s here and not with his very vulnerable mate.

“About fucking time.” He hisses, stepping forward, grasping his sisters’ upper arm, and yanking her towards the stairs, “Thought you were going to sleep all fucking day.” He snarls, and now Lilith can hear the anger.

Beneath that, she can hear the panic, the fear and uncertainty, and it makes something twist in Lilith’s belly as magic makes her eyes gleam crimson. She’s gearing up for a fight, and her shoulders come back as they square up, like she’s readying for an assault.

“Why are you not with Wine?” she asked slowly, eyes narrowed, and her question makes Felix growl, yanking her towards the stairs.

“Felix.” Lilith digs in her heels, eyes narrowed as she stalls him.

Felix makes a noise, low in his throat, full of anger as his face goes red. He turns to Lilith, eyes more gold then yellow when he finally says, very slowly, his voice tight with barely restrained anger, “I don’t fucking know where he is.”

It doesn’t compute in Lilith’s head what the fuck he’s talking about, she understands his words on their own, but not strung together like that. All Lilith can do is stare at him and ask, “What?” then her own anger flairs, and something twists inside of her chest, “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know where he is?”

Felix makes an angry noise at the back of his throat and holds her gaze steady as her magic boils under her skin. Any pleasure or happiness is burned away, “Felix.” She says his name through her gritted teeth as unease creeps through her, “Wine is in heat Felix.” She tells him carefully, “Wine is vulnerable as fuck Felix, _how do you not know where he is!”_

Felix takes a deep, slow breath to calm himself and his eyes go to molten gold, “Thanks Lilith.” He hisses, angry and scared, “I had no fucking idea.” his words are sarcastic and caustic, acidic enough to burn, and it makes Lilith _afraid._

The thought of Wine, defenseless and needy, likely in pain after two…she pauses and realizes it’s really been three days since she disappeared into Red’s room with her mates. All that time, Wine has been _somewhere_ , probably writhing in pain. Vulnerable to attack or assault, and probably looking for Felix.

“Felix.” Lilith hissed, planting herself in the hall, eyes narrowed on her brother as her anger flairs, “What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know where he is. He’s in heat Felix, do you have any idea what could happen to him.”

Felix takes a breath, and he holds Lilith’s gaze with the same intensity of a hunting dog, “Yeah, I’ve thought about it, thanks Lilith. Panicking a little. Lil, can we please get to the kitchen where everyone else is waiting for you to wake the fuck up.”

Lilith holds his gaze, and Felix sighs. He bends first, glaring hard when he slowly says, “Sans and Red went into heat, but the _others_ didn’t think it was fucking important to mention to us that hey, they were going into heat too.”

Lilith’s brows furrowed, and her mouth tipped down at the corners, “What?”

“Yeah.” Felix tells her slowly, “You’ve been having wild heat sex for two days with Sans and Red, the rest of us have been looking for Wine, Coffee, Nightmare, Sin, Edge and Glass. We have no idea where they are. Papyrus came early, so Ry is with him, but so did they other Papri.”

Lilith freezes when she hears that _Edge_ is missing along with the others. That Edge, _her mate_ , was somewhere, alone and in pain, and no one knew where he was.

“Paps told us that you dealt with Crow and Gore, they’re still asleep. Sloan gave Sugar sleeping draught and he’s still out. The others? When their heats hit, they fucking scattered Lilith.” Lilith is certain she’s never seen Felix so upset, so distraught as he is now, not even in the war, “We have no idea where they are, if they’re okay, or if anyone has hurt them. We have been scouring Ebott for them, and we can’t find them. Right now, Sloan is cursing herself for showing Nightmare how to hide from a witch mirror, and she’s pissed, because he’s the one who had to have shown the others how to avoid it.”

Lilith felt her eyes widen and her mouth fall open as Felix continues, “We have no idea where to start looking for them, or where they would have gone.” Felix falters, and Lilith tenses when his breathing catches.

For a moment, tears, _real tears,_ well in his eyes before he blinks them away with a hard swallow, “Now, my mate is missing Lilith. Your mate is missing, all of our mates are missing. Can we please get a fucking move on?”

Lilith blinks at him, mouth tipped down into an angry frown, and mutters the only thing she can to express her discontent, “ _Fuck_.”

She charges past Felix, grabbing his wrist and dragging him down the stairs.

She had a report to get and a group of skeletons to fucking find before they got themselves hurt.


End file.
